Chapter Ninety-Two
"How come Mummy's not eating with us?" Grace asked with a frown, sitting opposite Harry in the Bistro, at a long table that had been transfigured – one of two which were filled with all the underage residents of the Foundation – that resembled those of the House tables at Hogwarts.
"Because kids eat first now," Harry reminded her, as he eagerly tucked in to the small plate in front of him – delighted to see meat, as well as potatoes and gravy upon it, today – as Grace eyed hers looking less than impressed.
"But if we eat now, we'll be hungry tonight," Grace pointed out, "And we don't get food again until the morning!"
"If you're not hungry, feel free to pass it round, Potter," Malfoy remarked from a few seats up.
Harry glowered at him, before nodding his chin at his sister, "Come on, Grace."
"Hey, there's a bit of bread, see," Malachi pointed out, lifting it from her plate and holding it to her, "Keep it in your pocket for before bed. That's what I do."
Grace did as Malachi said, giving him as smile, as she wrapped it in a napkin before tucking the small slice of baguette into the folds of her robes.
There was none of the excited chatter that filled the Great Hall of Hogwarts during these times – not that these tiny offerings were comparable to those feasts – as everyone at the table eagerly devoured the food on their plates in almost complete silence, most done within five minutes of sitting down.
"Alright, everyone coming back to the Learning Center, this way!" Mrs. Gillan called the younger kids away and, when they departed – Grace giving Harry a smile of farewell – it left just Malachi and Harry at the top end of their table.
"Did you bring it?" Malachi whispered.
Harry nodded, glancing around them, before he tugged out the end of the Invisibility Cloak from where it was stuffed into the satchel he'd brought with him.
Malachi grinned and the two of them got to their feet, making their way to the Research Center – tailed closely by their respective Security Personnel – to the Herbology workshop that they'd decided would be the perfect cover up for their planned afternoon pursuits.
They stepped through the door to the lab, stopping to quickly sign in their names, and were pleased to see there were a good number of other kids in there – so it would be easy to slip away – while the two men who followed, stopped and waited outside the door; each of them shaking out a newspaper and a magazine, respectively, clearly preparing to just settle down for the next couple of hours and enjoy the break.
Harry followed Malachi deeper into the room, mulling over what a dull job that must be – just following a kid around an almost-totally safe place, waiting for someone to attack all day.
"You're sure you saw them in your dad's office?" Harry asked, quietly, when they reached the back of the room, "The stuff about horcruxes?"
Malachi nodded, "Yeah. I saw it a few days ago, there was a box with some stuff in it. I didn't really look – just caught it when I saw your mum go in for something – but there's definitely some stuff about them in there."
With a glance at the door – confirming the guards were happily engaged int their own extra-curricular reading - they slipped into the corner, and Harry quickly shook out the cloak and flung it over them both in one swift motion.
And then they headed from the room, the Security Personnel none the wiser.
"Okay, we have two hours," Harry said, once they were out of earshot of anyone and they found themselves nearing the offices.
"We're not gonna need two hours," Malachi rolled his eyes, stumbling a little when their ankles knocked.
They were at the door Mr. Black office within minutes, Malachi easily lifting the wards to get in with the password – his own name – and they quickly stumbled inside.
Malachi threw off the cloak when the door shut behind them, heading up to the cupboard at the back of the room.
Harry stepped up behind him, just as Malachi turned and raised an eyebrow; "It's warded."
"Well, obviously it's a secret or something. Whatever I – whatever a horcrux is," Harry said, even more certain about the fact now, in light of this recent event; "Come on, try some passwords; it'll be easy, right?"
Malachi sighed, giving a careful glance in the direction of the door before he lifted his wand and pointed it, trying first; "Julia."
Harry tugged on the door handle, knowing it wouldn't work, and shot Malachi a look; "It'd obviously be your name."
Malachi sighed, trying again.
"Malachi."
The wards held.
Malachi shared a look with Harry.
"Try Slytherin."
"Slytherin."
The cupboard door wouldn't budge and the two of them carried on trying, becoming more impatient and anxious as time went on – "Foundation"; "Aurelius"; "Orion"; "Sirius" – until Malachi shook his head, stepping back and lowering his wand.
"This is mad, Harry, I'll just ask him."
"No, don't. I don't want him knowing I used legillimency against him –"
"He won't care –"
"And the fact he's got this thing warded so tight just shows how big of a secret it is," Harry said, determinedly, before he looked at Malachi, imploringly; "There must be something else. What about the baby's name?"
"The baby doesn't have a name; it's not born."
"They must have talked about it."
"Mostly my dad just calls it 'Little Sprout'."
Malachi looked thoughtful, then, before he lifted his wand.
"Beansprout."
The cupboard door clicked open.
There was a second of stillness, before the two of them shared a look, and then hurriedly pulled the doors open fully and looked inside.
"It was in one of these boxes," Malachi said, indicating the three along the bottom and they knelt down, reaching in to pull some things out.
Malachi hesitated on the first thing he pulled out of the box – a silver mask – and went still as he stared at the item in his hand.
Harry reached by him, pushing aside the folds of black cloths that he knew were old Death Eaters robes – the ones Mr. Black had worn the night they'd been attacked at the Foundation – and pulled out some parchments, turning to Malachi eagerly.
"Here –"
He leaned back, shaking them out a bit, and frowned.
"They're blank."
Malachi frowned, putting the mask aside, and looked into the box Harry had pulled them from – finding it the same for all beneath – that aside from the Death Eaters garments the box was just filled with piles of seemingly-blank parchment.
They looked into the other two boxes and – aside from finding some old sketches of a crown and a withered map of somewhere called Little Hangleton and a torn out page from a book about Inferi – everything else they came across were just blank pieces of parchment and empty journals.
"They've obviously been charmed or something," Malachi said, while Harry felt his shoulders drop in disappointment.
After raiding the shelves of the Research Centre for weeks for any titles that might mention them – horcruxes – without any luck, when Malachi had come to him with this he'd thought – finally – something was going his way for once and he'd finally have some answers.
"Oh, wait. Look," Malachi frowned, pulling out something.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," Malachi shrugged, "Just…a sketch of a snake or something. But –"
Harry reached for it and Malachi handed it over. Harry stared at it, at the sketched image that so perfectly resembled the one that Harry had seen almost two years before, now; of the snake that slithered at Voldemort's feet.
Of the snake that – Harry was sure – he, himself, kept seeing through the eyes of.
There were voices outside the door then – far earlier than they'd expected Mr. Black to be back – and they quickly put the things back into the boxes, drawing back and closing the door to the cupboard, just managing to scramble back to their feet as the door to the office opened and Mr. Black came inside.
Malachi's dad stopped, getting a frown when he noticed them.
"Malachi."
Malachi smiled, easily; "Hey, Dad."
"What are you doing in here?"
"Snooping about. Obviously."
Mr. Black rolled his eyes, before glancing over his shoulder.
"Why isn't your assigned security outside?"
"Don't worry. We left them together; they've got each other for company."
"This isn't a joke, Son," Mr. Black said, seriously, looking entirely unimpressed with the both of them, before he lifted the Invisibility Cloak that Harry had chucked over the chair on his way up to the cupboard; "They've been assigned to you boys for a reason – reasons you both ought to be aware of by now – and we don't have the resources to be playing cat and mouse with you two, when there's very real threats to be dealing with right now."
Malachi lowered his eyes, looking suitably cowed – as Harry felt – by his dad's remarks.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Yes?" Mr. Black called, seeming to push down his irritation, and he turned in its direction.
As he did, Harry noticed a sheet of parchment at his feet – a blank one that must have fallen out of the cupboard – and he quicky snatched it up, stuffing it into his robes.
The door opened and Kingsley Shacklebolt – whom Harry hadn't seen in weeks – appeared, giving Mr. Black a nod; "Regulus."
Mr. Black's eyebrows lifted, before he nodded and headed back to the door, speaking to someone on the other side of it; "Wilbur."
The Security Supervisor – the one assigned to Mr. Black – appeared, eyebrows raised; "Yes, Sir?"
"You mind escorting these two back to their own assigned personnel? They're in the –"
"Aw, Dad, we can get back down to the labs by ourselves, it's fine –"
"The labs, apparently."
"Certainly, Sir," Wilbur Rankin nodded.
Mr. Black turned back to them, inclining his chin that they follow him, and Harry and Malachi reluctantly approached, making their way from the office.
"If we take your guy, who'll be protecting you?" Malachi pointed out as they reached him.
Mr. Black grinned and raised his eyebrow; "Not nice to worry, hm?" he gave a nod at Kingsley, "I'm in good hands, Son." He leaned a little closer; "We'll have a talk about this tonight."
Malachi looked exasperated already – the scolding having not even taken place yet – but nodded and headed out, while Harry waited, expectantly, with his eyes on the Invisibility Cloak Mr. Black was holding.
Mr. Black chuckled, glancing down at the now-neatly folded cloak in his arms; "I'll give this back to your mother, shall I?"
"What? No! It –"
"- spares you the temptation of using it unwisely," Mr. Black finished up for him – with a firmness in his stance that Harry wasn't used to – and Harry's hands curled in frustration but, when they did, he felt the little crinkle of the parchment that he had stolen – borrowed – and was suddenly eager to just get away.
Harry headed out after Malachi, the door clicking shut behind them, before the two of them made their way back in the direction of the labs with Mr. Black's Security Supervisor close – much closer than the others had walked – on their heels.
"The Foundation's defences continue to hold, I see," Kingsley remarked, when they were alone.
Regulus nodded.
"As yet, all still remain in ignorance as to Alastor's passing. Did you find Eugene Hopkins?"
Kingsley gave a nod; "We did. He came far more willingly than one might expect, considering he was giving himself up to be apprehended. Needless to say, that man is no friend of yours, Regulus. I doubt you're going to have much success with him."
"Where is he?"
"In the prepared unit – as I said, he came willingly – and he is currently under guard by Dedalus and Emmeline."
Regulus nodded.
"Thank you, Kingsley," he said, as he put the cloak he held on the desk; "There's been in change in the dining schedule – adults eat at five – you're just in time."
Kingsley glanced at the timepiece; "So I am." He looked back at Regulus; "Good luck."
Regulus smiled, as Kingsley made his way from the office.
"As all within the school are entirely aware, Minerva, group meetings of more than three students at a time are strictly prohibited. I do hope that the Head of Gryffindor House is not so foolish as to encourage the students within her own care to disobey these rules."
Minerva glowered at Severus where she stood opposite him in the Tapestry Corridor – Lupin at her side – with just as much loathing – if not more so – as she had demonstrated on his return to the Castle some months before.
"I wouldn't dream of it, Headmaster," the title was ground out, as she eyed him, "It would be a great injustice to them, if I were to take credit for the demonstrations of determination and bravery that the students of my House are so eager to present in these times."
"Ah. Determination and bravery, you call it?"
"Traits that may just be entirely foreign to some – I dare say – cowardly individuals who do not appreciate the value of acting with honesty and integrity."
Minerva's look was scathing – the intended slight not missed by either Severus or Lupin at her side – and Severus fought down the flicker – which threatened to become a surge – of hurt but he quickly found it easy to push down.
For Lupin, it seemed, had decided that now – now – was the moment to intervene – eyeing Severus with a look of obvious pity, which made his blood boil – and opened his mouth, as if to say something that might dared have been a defence.
"Well, let us put that determination and bravery to the test, shall we?" Severus said, calmly, before Lupin could say anything foolish, touching his fingertips to his lips as if in thought; "I believe a stroll around the Forbidden Forest after dark this evening just might teach those fearless students of yours a lesson; that, often, it is far better to rely upon – perhaps even take time to consider – ones wits, if they should be so blessed to have them, rather than rush into things foolheartedly and follow whatever imprudent impulses that may just take their fancy in any given moment."
Minerva's stance relaxed – ever so slightly – at the suggested punishment – for the Carrows' methods were become far more frequent and notorious within the walls of the Castle – as Severus turned his eyes upon Lupin.
"I trust one of you can make the arrangements with Hagrid?"
At Lupin's nod, Severus swept by him, and made his way back to his office.
Never lingering outside of it for any longer than he needed to.
Severus strode into the Headmaster's office upon reaching it, ignoring Dumbledore's portrait which immediately sprung awake – as it always did – upon his return when he noticed that the wooden box on his desk was aglow.
He touched the tip of his wand to his finger, drawing blood, before he touched it to the top of the box to open it.
He pulled out the piece of parchment inside, reading the small scribble upon it.
Any night, as soon as you can.
Severus frowned, eyes going back to box, and he reached in, pulling out another item that he realised had been placed within it.
Severus grasped the fabric and shook it out.
Realising as he did what it was.
Harry's Invisibility Cloak.
The slightest sound was enough to jolt him awake.
Regulus' eyes flickered open – having not really been asleep, anyway, these past few nights since he'd sent the Invisibility Cloak through the blood box to Severus – and he wondered if he had been dreaming or just thinking, when those images of Eugene Hopkins, and Anchor Ridge, and Evelyn and Andromeda all passed through his mind.
He sighed, eyes glancing to the timepiece that read past three in the morning, before he curled in more closely to Julia who slept soundly in his arms, facing away from him.
He had never truly thought deeply about what he would do or say when faced with Eugene Hopkins again – knowing what each of them had done to the other – far too wrapped up in thoughts – dreams, as Severus put it – of the great successes they could achieve if they could actually work together.
Perhaps, even, the defeat of Voldemort, himself.
A foolish wish, perhaps, born out of sentimentality; out of a longing for when things were far simpler. The future before them both unknown and entirely unthinkable to what it had become.
Their old mentor who had once guided them all – himself, and Severus and Andromeda – along with his own contributions to the Foundation, to accomplishment and prominence within the Wizarding World.
Now, though, with Eugene comfortably settled and easily within his clutches, Regulus faltered; Severus' warnings and assertions suddenly seeming far more prudent than they had done, before, when this all was merely a dream and an answer.
Because, now, whenever he lingered on the other side of the door to the quarters that had been prepared for him – determined to go in and just ask him everything he knew about blood magic – the thought came to him with a jolt, stilling his hand upon the doorknob.
This man had killed Andromeda – she, whom Eugene was so fond of – and Evelyn – Malachi, almost, along with her – all for the simple underlying motive that to do so would destroy Regulus.
Had attempted to wipe out the entire Black bloodline all in the name of vengeance; his loved ones – his son – the innocent, all to be killed for Regulus' crimes.
And then, shaking and furious and remorseful, he'd turn away.
Knowing that, in order to get anywhere with Hopkins, he'd need to be steady - thinking clearly - for with nerves as frayed and emotions as high as they were – the Foundation on the brink of collapse – Regulus knew they had only one chance at this.
One chance to convince Eugene to help them and he couldn't – in all honesty – trust either himself or Eugene to react rationally when faced with one another once more.
Which – under the current circumstances and so many depending upon this being a success – simply would not do.
They couldn't blow this chance now.
A flash of light suddenly filled the room; a silvery doe floating up and suspending itself above the bed for a moment before vanishing without a word and plunging the room back into darkness.
Regulus almost leapt out of bed – at the signal of Severus' arrival – but, before he could move at all, Julia stirred, turning to face him with an endearingly bleary frown.
"Did you turn on the light?" she murmured.
Regulus smiled, cuddling in closer, his thumb gently stroking against the large bump of her stomach where his hand rested and whispered; "Sorry."
Regulus held her until she fell back asleep, hand remaining where it was, and he smiled again – warmed with a little flutter of love and longing – when he felt it; the tiny little thumps of the baby – their child – kicking against his palm.
The life they'd created, that would soon – just a few weeks from now – be born into this world.
Regulus became sombre, almost instantly, at the thought.
Of the reality that their baby would very soon be coming into and, with a gentle brush of his lips to Julia's temple – a quick peek to ensure she was asleep – he carefully pushed himself out of bed and made his way from the quarters.
"Albus was deluded if he actually thought this was sustainable," Regulus said, while Severus stood opposite him in the basement of the Foundation with his fingers pressed to his eyelids – as if he could press hard enough to erase Regulus' idiocy from existence; "This is not a school. These are grown men and women, fearing for their lives. They cannot be kept in line by threat of detentions and fear of howlers from angry parents!"
Severus scoffed, dropping his hands and shaking his head.
"You are the one who is deluded, Regulus, thinking that Eugene Hopkins will in any way help solve this problem."
"Why wouldn't he?" Regulus turned to face him, "He's here, now, he's not going to want Death Eaters raiding the place any more than we do."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Hopkins is no doubt more than aware of the Dark Lord's wish to have you skinned alive; I rather think he'd enjoy the show."
"Eugene is not a fool, Severus, far from it. And he's also one of the very few people on this planet who actually knows how to utilize Blood Magic. If there's any way of manipulating these blood wards to protect the Foundation, Eugene will know how to do it."
Severus glowered at him; "And that is the only reason you have summoned him, is it?"
Regulus glanced away.
"No," Severus smirked, "Of course not. I am no fool, either, Regulus; I know very well what you are up to. A happy coincide that Hopkins just so happens to be in your clutches, after you were so adamant of the need to involve him only months ago in your ridiculous –"
"Ridiculous, is it, that I should want to exhaust every avenue available to us to eliminate Voldemort?"
"Ridiculous fantasies and delusions of grandeur; is it not enough for you, that you have taken up the mantle of leader of the Resistance? No. Of course not. Instead, you seek to orchestrate events so that you can heroically sacrifice yourself in the name of a better world. Is that what it will take, Regulus, for you to finally find absolution?"
Regulus lifted his chin, eyeing him, not even bothering to hide that the comments stung.
"Ancestral magic will not work," Severus said, enunciating each word; "Aside from our previous exhaustive endeavors to find a way to utilize it –" Severus ignored Regulus' unimpressed look, belying his scepticism that Severus had even looked into it at all, and went on " – with the soul fragment still residing inside of Harry –"
"Voldemort has fallen with horcruxes binding him to life before," Regulus finally snapped, interrupting him; "It could give us years, Severus, the last time it gave us five –"
"It would give 'us' nothing, for the entire concept is contingent upon your own death!"
Regulus sighed then, glancing away, before he met Severus' eyes once more, speaking more calmly – with irritating assuredness; "Five years, Severus. And, even then, only if he has any followers left foolish enough to resurrect him. I rather imagine after this, support from his own Death Eaters is not quite as strong as it used to be."
"Well, I will play no part in another of your –"
"There is a price on your daughter's head, Severus!"
Severus eyed him at the unwelcome truth.
"There is a price on my son's, my baby's; and we have them in amongst people whom I no longer trust. I'm not having another member of my family – my children – die for this war. After what happened with Harry –"
"What happened with Harry?"
Severus frowned.
Regulus hesitated, looking uncertain for a moment, before he cleared his throat; "Chesney. He attacked him; tried to ransom him a few weeks ago –"
"He what?"
Regulus said nothing, just stared back at him; with the unconcealed, grim truth of what was going on within the Foundation.
Severus flexed his jaw.
"Where is he?"
Regulus rolled his eyes and held up a hand.
"It doesn't matter where he is," he said, as if entirely aware of the various means by which Severus was planning to make him suffer for it; "Chesney is not the problem; we've got him under control. The problem is Voldemort. And so long as he continues to maintain his stronghold, incidents such as this are only going to keep happening. Eugene just might have the answers that we've been looking for."
Severus' lips twisted.
"And I suppose you summoned me here to put to use the great bond of friendship that Eugene Hopkins and I share?"
"Actually, I was hoping that you might be a little more intimating in your approach; warm and fuzzy as you always tend to be. Eugene would not negotiate with me."
"Ah," Severus raised an eyebrow, "And what is to be our terms of negotiation, Regulus?"
"You know well enough what. Otherwise we wouldn't be standing here wasting our time having this conversation. The Blood Wards. And if he just so happens to know a way to severe the bloodline –"
"Impossible –"
"Then, from there, we can work out how to utilize the ancestral magic that was successful implemented by the Longbottoms and defeat Voldemort."
"Subdue him."
"Fine. Subdue him. Either way, our children will eat for a few more years and not have to be tailed by bloody security escorts whenever they need to use the damn bathroom!"
Severus shook his head, storming past him towards the door.
"There are no words to convey what an utter fool you are, Regulus," Severus ground out as he stopped at the door, shaking out the Invisibility Cloak and throwing it over his head; not taking any chances of being spotted, even if it was gone three in the morning by the time he'd come to meet Regulus here.
"Where is he?"
"Follow me."
Regulus pulled open the door and headed out, several paces ahead of him as he led Severus in the direction of the labs.
Despite it being the middle of the night, the corridors weren't entirely empty – and it was achingly familiar, to be walking through these hallways once again – with the odd few people he recognized scattered about, nodding and smiling Regulus' way with – what appeared to be – genuine ease and fondness, no false pretenses at all from what Severus could observe beneath the cloak of invisibility.
But, even then, with this news of the attempted capture of Harry – the reminded thought making his fists curl – Severus knew that Regulus' concerns were not entirely without merit.
Severus waited at the end of the corridor to the labs, when he noticed Regulus had now stopped before two guards at one of the doors, quickly engaging in jokes and conversation, before he dismissed them and the two men – looking a little bewildered – headed in Severus' direction; passing him and heading up the stairs, entirely unaware of his presence.
Severus approached where Regulus stood – saying nothing to him when he reached him – and, instead, just cleared his throat.
Regulus rolled his eyes – knowing Severus was glaring at him, even if he couldn't see him – and muttered a few incantations before the door clicked open.
Severus made to stride into the room but was stopped by Regulus holding out a thick roll of parchments just in front of him.
Severus reached out a hand from beneath the cloak, snatching them before anyone could see, and passed him, stepping across the threshold.
The room – which Severus was expecting to be a sparse prison-like cell – was nothing of the sort.
There was a comfortably made-up bed – the only complaint one might make that it was a narrow single – and a couch. A bookcase with several books. A table and chairs. Even a cooling unit, in the corner, beside a door that clearly led into a private bathroom.
Eugene Hopkins was sitting up in the bed, eyes upon where Severus stood, even if he couldn't see him – obviously having heard the open and close of the door upon his entrance – and Severus just stared back at him.
A surge of loathing came over him as his eyes lingered.
Severus reached up, tugging the cloak from his head, and revealed himself.
Hopkins stared back at him, eyes darkening as their eyes met.
"Hello Eugene."
Severus flicked his wand, lighting the room.
"Ah," Hopkins leaned back against the headboard – entirely unafraid – and smiled; "Severus, my boy. I did wonder which of the two of you it would be. Though I must admit, I had always thought it would be Regulus. He is…softer."
"You really think yourself and Regulus could be in the same room without killing one another?"
"It is funny, isn't it? Everyone who knows either of us would not even dream of it, that either of us would be capable of such a crime," Hopkins lifted his eyebrows; "We, smiling foes? Oh, how wrong they would be."
Severus looked back at him, his loathing increasing with each second their eyes lingered upon one another's.
"You killed Andromeda."
"She was a casualty. Not an intended."
"She was a good woman."
"Yes. She was," Hopkins agreed, before he eyed Severus with disgust; "The same cannot be said of the men she walked with."
"Do you include yourself in that description, Eugene?"
"Certainly. You think I wanted this?"
"You dare to show remorse?"
"Do you, Severus?" Hopkins leaned forward, slightly, with that same look of revulsion in his eyes that was becoming incredibly familiar to him now; "Do you show remorse for your sins?"
"Perhaps."
"You are scum," Hopkins spat; "You are both scum. Just like me, true. But at least I own that."
"Living it up in the States, drinking and dancing and being merry every night is 'owning it'?"
"It works for Regulus."
Severus crossed his arms.
"What, precisely, have you boys called me here for, hm? What is it that you could so desperately want, to have possibly come and tracked me down after all these years?"
"What we all want. The Dark Lord gone."
"Ah. And I am key to this great feat, am I? The defeat of the almighty Voldemort?"
"Regulus believes that Blood Magic is the key to that."
Hopkins looked stunned speechless for a moment.
And then he laughed.
"Ha. Ha ha ha!"
"You find this amusing."
"Only because I know what you are going to say next."
"You always were astute. We need your help."
"I cannot help you," Hopkins said, smirking and shaking his head; "I will not help you."
"You would not only be helping us two. You'd be helping us all. Yourself and your own family, included. Don't think just because you and your wife are living overseas that you will remain untouched. The Dark Lord's boundaries will not stop at the border; he will branch out. Soon, it will all be his."
"So certain of his ultimate conquest, are you?"
"It is inevitable if those who oppose him cannot pull together."
"I would sooner turn my own wand upon myself than stand with either of you."
"And yet, here you are, behind our very walls. Which brings us to our first matter of business," Severus said, tossing the parchments onto Hopkins bed.
Hopkins eyed them for a moment, not touching them as Severus made a slow pace of the room.
"The defences of the Foundation are currently compromised. We are aware of the existence of a blood charm that may be evoked – the Bonds of Blood – which, when implemented, protect a residence from those who would mean it – and those within it – harm."
"Ah," Hopkins lifted his chin, quickly catching on to the implications; "Then the Boy-Who-Lived is here as well, is he? I should dearly like to shake the hand of one of the single more honourable beings within these walls."
"The single? And what have the others here done that you now consider them so beneath you, dare I ask?"
"They follow Regulus."
Severus' lips twisted.
"You are surely are aware that it is in your own interests, Eugene, to cooperate in this matter. You are, after all, a resident of the Foundation, yourself, now – with no chance of ever returning to your cosy little apartment on the coast with your wife, so long as the Dark Lord remains living – and what harm, truly, would it do you in this case? I dare say, you were fond of some of those within these walls, yourself, once upon a time; and do you really intend to allow them to be sacrificed in the name of bitterness and vengeance?"
"Do you think I can be so easily manipulated into doing your bidding, Severus? As if making me your prisoner in some way affiliates us with one another?"
"Manipulation you may call it; imploring upon the triumph of common sense is another."
Hopkins eyed him from where he remained sitting up in bed – still having not bothered to get out of it – before he reached for the parchments Regulus had handed over to Severus that were resting on his lap.
"It is not possible, Severus. I doubt a man such as yourself is capable of understanding what exactly happened the night Harry Potter lived, so, let me spell it out for you; the magic evoked by Sirius Black when he sacrificed his life for that child was brought about by an act of love. It was a profound, unconditional love that evoked a magic not seen for centuries – that of the Old – and while, yes, it is a magic that those who have a deep understanding of the branch of blood magic have attempted to manipulate, even those manipulations must remain true to the original evocation. Love. That is the reason the place which the blood wards protect must be – irrevocably – considered as home."
Severus stared back at him. Despite knowing it was foolish to come here in the first place – that there was no way Eugene Hopkins, of all people, would be able to help – he found himself irritated at the confirmation of the fact.
That it was only a matter of time before the Fidelius protection crumbled and they were powerless to stop it.
Hopkins fingered through the parchments on his lap, with almost lazy disinterest for a moment, before he paused, going still for a moment.
"You could – as I see you have already come across – bind the life forces of the two in question, so that one might take the place of the other, should they find themselves in future instances of mortal peril; the door to future sacrifices protecting this child was opened by the original."
Severus glanced away, as appalled at the suggestion as he had been when Regulus had implied the same, some months before.
"This is about more than the life of one."
Hopkins looked thoughtful, then, eyeing the text of the parchment in front of him. Before he turned to the next. And then the next.
The man got a slow smile, as he made his way through.
"Hm. It seems Regulus hopes to severe the bloodline between himself and his son, to spare his son the consequences of his father's sins –" Hopkins lifted his eyes to the side, "Well, this one sin, granted. How touching."
"Indeed."
Hopkins smirked, eyes meeting his; "So, one might be led to believe. Regulus always did have a way of wiggling out of enduring the consequences of his actions under the guise of love and loyalty."
Severus rolled his eyes, becoming exasperated by – what he was now certain, more than ever – was a complete waste of his time.
He glanced at the timepiece, that read just before five, now, and close to the time he ought to be making his way back to Hogwarts, before he went on, not bothering to hide his impatience.
"Can it be done?"
"No. A severing of the bloodline is a penalty inflicted as retribution for the abuse of blood magic for one's own gain – and to call upon the collective force of one's ancestors for one's own increase in magical power is certainly that," Hopkins said, before he scoffed, shaking his head in disgust; "To severe the bloodline cannot be enacted, willingly, by those who are to be affected to protect themselves from the consequential curse. That defeats the entire purpose of the occurrence."
Severus nodded, turning on his heel and not even bothering to retrieve the parchments that he had brought with him – with any luck Hopkins would destroy them and put end to Regulus' foolishness once and for all – and made his way to the door.
"That is all I wished to know. Good day, Hopkins."
"Leaving so soon, Severus?" Hopkins called after him; "And there was me thinking you were here asking for my input on the matter."
Severus turned, his tone clipped with his impatience when he spoke; "You have a recommendation? So, give it."
"Praetereo. You are aware of the enchantment, I am sure?"
Severus eyed him; "In what manner could the ability to pass over be of benefit when calling upon Ancestral Magic? The clue is in the title, Eugene; the curse affects only the evokers own bloodline."
Hopkins leaned back, looking so smug that Severus almost felt provoked into hexing the smirk from his face.
"It may not be possible to severe the bloodline between father and son. But it is possible to redirect the curse that Regulus wishes to avoid inflicting upon Malachi Black further down the chain."
"The chain," Severus raised an eyebrow; "You mean the babe in the womb?"
"No indeed, Severus. That would solve nothing, I would imagine. In fact, correct me if I'm wrong, but there is a mighty flaw in this plan of yours and your smiling friend."
Severus crossed his arms, already knowing what Hopkins was going to say.
"You see, Regulus – the great man that he is – following this wished-for-severance of the bloodline to his son, intends to call upon and wield the magic of the Black ancestors to defeat your Great Lord."
Severus glowered at him.
"Need I point out the obvious?" Hopkins raised his eyebrows as he steepled his fingers.
Severus rolled his eyes; "The 'obvious' being that a Black life must be willingly sacrificed to channel the magic of the ancestors into the wielder."
"Ah. So, you have done your homework, Severus. Indeed, two Blacks, as two Longbottoms were needed before, are required in order for your plan to work. Or, at least, two whom the Black ancestors are willing to protect and consider as one of their own."
"Get to the point," Severus snapped, "It is impossible, then?"
"Well, Severus, if Regulus were to be willing to sever the bloodline between himself and his children – then upon his heroic sacrificial death – who, pray tell, will wield the magic?"
Severus simply stared at him. Furious with Regulus for sending him in here, as if this foolish scheme were actually one of his own proposals, before Hopkins went on.
"Might I make a suggestion?"
Severus frowned; confused there could even be a suggestion.
Hopkins grinned; "Why; the Boy-Who Lived himself."
Severus' frown deepened.
"Impossible. Harry Potter is a half-blood. Not to mention entirely unrelated to the Black line. If one were able to redirect the curse onto those unrelated, there would be purebloods wreaking havoc, calling upon their ancestors for their own gains, and leaving whoever they so wished to deal with the consequential curse."
"Ah," Hopkins drummed his bottom lip with his fingers; "Good point. Good point. Hm. But I do believe you are missing something here, my boy. You see, Harry Potter is a rather unique case, wouldn't you agree? Made so, by the sacrifice bestowed eight years ago by one Sirius Black to save the life of his Godson. All in the name of love. And whether it be Blood or Ancestral; Old Magic supersedes all."
Hopkins lifted his chin.
"So, you see, Severus; when this blood was willingly spilled for him, Harry Potter became bound to life by Black Blood."
Severus stared at him.
"As such, the Black ancestors are already bound to recognise the boy as one of their own to protect. Mark my words, Regulus' plan will work. You can redirect the ancestral magic and ensuing curse – channelled through Regulus – to bypass the first, even the second in the Black line, and onto your Boy-Who-Lived, so that he may wield it and save us all."
Severus stood still as stone, as he attempted to process what Hopkins was saying.
"As Frank Longbottom did before him, Harry Potter would then have the power to defeat your Dark Lord and bring peace and prosperity to all of the Wizarding World," Hopkins chuckled; "It almost sounds like a fairytale, don't you think?"
Severus' lips twisted, as he looked at him; "I can imagine why you would think that."
Hopkins laughed.
Laughed.
While Severus positively reeled, furiously.
"And I can imagine why you wouldn't, my boy."
Hopkins lifted his shoulders, in what appeared to be a shrug.
"That's the answer you came here for, Severus. In order to save the world; Regulus Black is going to have to die."
Hopkins was grinning.
Smiling as if he'd just won big.
And he had.
He had them.
Severus hated him.
With all of his bloody guts, with every single drop of blood in his veins, he hated the smiling man before him. And he could feel his hands shaking as he leaned forward, lips lifting in a snarl.
"Go to hell."
Severus turned, swiftly, and made to leave.
"The longer you deny this newfound knowledge, Severus, the sooner we will all be writhing in it."
Severus hesitated, with his hand on the doorknob.
"By all means, save your friend. Drink wine and be merry and rest easy, tonight, knowing you let the world burn to spare yourself the pain of loss while the monsters and the murderers continue to wreak their havoc upon the entire wizarding world and make the rest of us wish that we had been given the choice you are planning to keep from him.
Rest easy, Severus. Do.
Rest easy. And you – both of you – burn in hell, right along with the rest of us."