CHAPTER 64: The Devil's Greatest Trick (Part 3)

Grimmauld Place

January 20th, 1996

12:40 p.m.

The clock was ticking. It was an old grandfather clock, it's wood rotting, worn, and somewhat discoloured. A prized possession of the Blacks, it must have been nearly three hundred years old, and it stood at the far end of the corridor outside Harry's room. Still, through the silence, it was loud. And it was ticking. Day and night. Whether he was laying in his bed or working at his desk. It was always ticking.

It was nearly time. Dumbledore would be here in just a few minutes, and he had to be ready to go outside. The thought of that had his knees shaking wildly, though that wasn't uncommon nowadays. It was a foreign sensation to him, one he didn't particularly enjoy. But trying to stop it would be useless, so he endured it. Learned to live with it. Or at least he tried to.

"You ready, kid?" Regulus asked, his portrait hung on the wall in front of him. With no one stuck inside a cell anymore, Regulus wasn't missed from the basement. He doubted anyone other than Sirius and he knew about his existence, and since Dumbledore banished Sirius from the house, that wasn't a concern to him anymore. Moody's wandering eye could pose a problem, but he had managed to hide Regulus without fail every time Dumbledore came into his room to talk or Andromeda and Ginny herded him out of his room. He couldn't let anyone find Regulus. Especially not now.

"In another life, this could have been a pretty good chance." Harry said. "An easy way out."

"It could still be." He hated the taunt in Regulus' voice, the carelessness it held. A few years older than himself, it was clear he had never had to face anything like this. Nothing to turn him cold or feral. He didn't do it deliberately, wasn't uncaring about their mission, he could see it. But at times, he felt more like a child than he did. "Never met this Scrimgeour guy, myself, but if you say he's an Auror, this is the perfect chance to get out. Broken wand, false imprisonment, assault… that's a ticket to freedom right there."

"No," his voice echoed in his ears, the one word he didn't want to say. How easy it would be to just take it as a gift. But he knew better now. "It's too easy. It'll just end up backfiring or going to hell some other way. Fuck, with my luck I'd end up in Azkaban. No. Whatever I do, however I get out… it'll be on my terms."

"So we're back to Plan Mummy Dearest? Have you found anything that says it's even possible?"

"Nothing concrete."

"And yet, you're still basing your whole plan on that?"

"I need access to the floo," Harry snapped. "Plain and simple. That's my only way out. But the floo is deactivated every night by Dumbledore himself. And unless someone on the outside deactivates it and floos inside the manor, there's no getting out of here. This is the best way - the only way."

Regulus sighed. He'd hated the plan since Harry first proposed it to him, but he'd played along, even if reluctantly. "Have you at least figured out how to fix the portrait?"

"I'm working on that. Worst-case scenario, we'll figure it out by tonight. And if that doesn't work or something else comes up… then we'll look for another plan."

"You're running out of time."

"You think I don't know that?" Harry looked up from the ground to Regulus' portrait. "Because I damn well do. Only, it's a little hard to escape when you're a magical cripple."

"Why do you even want a wand?" Regulus asked, his condescending voice so very similar to the other hundred he'd heard inside the Slytherin Common Room. "Cant blast your way out of this one, remember? You said so yourself."

"At least I'd be able to blast off your stupid mug." Harry said darkly, trying and failing to keep his anger in check. "That and I'm sure it'd make fixing the portrait so much easier."

"You'll figure it out," Regulus finally said, a smile crawling on his face. "Worst-case scenario, you go back to Hogwarts. Though both are technically dungeons, they're not as bad as the ones here."

"And what?" Harry spat, standing up before he began pacing in front of his bed. "Be ridiculed and taken advantage of once people figure it out? No, thanks. I'd rather go back to the basement."

"Harry!" Mrs Weasley's faint voice called out to him. "Professor Dumbledore is here for you!"

"Showtime, kid."

"Yeah, whatever," Harry rolled his eyes, taking a moment to grab Regulus' portrait from the wall and jam it in the underside of the bed. "Coming!" He called out to Mrs Weasley. It would stop her for only a minute, but it was one he needed. Taking a deep breath, he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He forced himself to smile, though it felt hollow. He let it fall, his face turning blank, and swallowed the anger in his eyes. He would never be the perfect Slytherin Montague wanted him to be, never even be as good as anyone from his year at so easily concealing everything he felt. But after a minute, as he stared at his face, only muddled with the slightest hint of irritation, he knew it was the best mask he would ever be able to make.

He opened the door right as Mrs Weasley reached it, eliciting a surprised gasp followed by a pleased smile. "Come on, Harry, dear. I'll walk down with you."

"There's really no need, Mrs Weasley." He said. Like a line in a script, he repeated every time.

"Oh, nonsense," she gave a little titter. And though it annoyed him at first, he'd gotten used to it. Gotten used to her. Mrs Weasley was a kind older woman. One who had been around too many kids not to know how to handle herself around them. And though it made her nosy and overly concerned, she had figured him out rather quickly and learnt how to speak his language. It was almost nice, pleasant, being around her. Even if he could never bring himself to be with her for more than an hour at a time. The smile dropped rather suddenly, and her eyes shone a bit as she stopped him in the middle of the stairs. "What you're doing today… it's more than she deserves. I still don't know why Professor Dumbledore believes this is the right thing to do. But you're showing real maturity with this. I'm proud of you, Harry."

Fuck, he thought. He looked down, began looking anywhere but at her expectant face. It was easy lying to their faces. Dumbledore, Moody, Sirius, Lupin, Longbottom and everyone else. Arseholes, uppity snobs who looked down on him and smiled as he was left to rot in the basement. But it wasn't the same with Mrs Weasley, someone so inherently kind and genuine, who even after fifty years on this earth didn't seem to have a malicious bone in her body. It was she who he couldn't lie to, who unwittingly made him feel like shit for making her look like an idiot in the end. There were more reasons than he could count as to why it was beneficial for him to go see Scrimgeour and act the part with Dumbledore. To gain the Order's trust and get them to let their guard down. To experience first-hand the wards of the house. To make sure Scrimgeour wasn't snooping around for him more than necessary. To simply make Augusta look like a shit guardian when he escaped again.

But it wasn't for her or because he was changing. He was still the same piece of shit he had always been. And he would have rathered Mrs Weasley say that than realise it later when he finally escaped.

"Thank you," his voice was clipped and curt. But that's what they expected of him. And when she smiled, he wished it wasn't. For a moment, he wished she could tell he was playing her and everyone around.

A wild thought. Idiotic and weak. He had a responsibility. A duty that was worth so much more than a broken heart.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said as the two of them rounded the corner and entered the living room. "Are you ready?"

"All set, sir," he said curtly, trying not to smile as he could see Longbottom and the old hag glaring at him from beside Dumbledore. He'd seen Longbottom around the house many times over the past two weeks. Felt it too, the bubbling rage of the boy as he did everything he could not to hound him. He was waiting for him to fail, he was waiting for that fateful day. And at nights, as he dreamed of it, pictured their first real encounter, he wondered what would be more satisfying. To punch him in the face once he'd finally been given the excuse, the green flag to fight back. Or to let him moan and whine and say nothing. To show everyone he was nothing more than a crying, deranged cunt.

Both had their merits for sure, and Longbottom still owed him that sucker punch in September.

Augusta was someone he hadn't seen since he was beaten and imprisoned. Swallowing his anger was getting easier by the day, so he didn't feel much when he finally saw her. She'd been part of it, but she hadn't actually been there. It made this whole thing easier, even if it annoyed him. He didn't have any plans for her yet.

"What's happening," Longbottom spoke up, his voice rough and sharp as he turned to Dumbledore. "You're taking him out of the house?"

"Molly," Dumbledore said, not even looking in Longbottom's direction. "Would you mind taking Neville here up to join the others? I'm sure they're waiting for him."

"Yes, of course." With a final squeeze of his shoulders, she turned to Neville and smiled at him. "Come on, dear. Ron's in his room waiting for you. Hermione should be getting here shortly as well."

"No," he snarled. "I-I want to come."

"It's nothing interesting, dear," Mrs Weasley tried to appease him. "You'd much rather be with Ron-"

"I don't care! I'm coming."

"No," Augusta said coldly. "You're not."

"He can come if he likes," Harry shrugged on the outside, but keeping the innocent look in his face rather than bursting out laughing was the hardest thing he'd ever had to endure.

"Shut your mouth." Neville snapped at him before turning towards Dumbledore. "I don't get it. I've been trying to talk to you for months. For you to include me in something. And when you finally even start to visit, you spend all your time with Potter! You go to his room, talk to him for hours, but treat me like shit."

"Language," Mrs Weasley berated him by instinct, but it didn't scrub off the sadness in her eyes.

"I don't care. I want to go where Potter's going. I want you to fucking listen to me-"

Harry blinked before the loud, strong sound of a slap almost made him flinch. The red hand-print was still clear on the face of a visibly stunned Neville. "Insolent brat. Stop whining and do what you're told."

"Gran… I-"

"Silence. Your father would be ashamed of the pitiful excuse of a man that you're becoming." Her voice was hard as stone, but even then, Harry barely felt anything. This was rather tame compared to Vernon. Longbottom had earnt it. Still, seeing a tear fall across Longbottom's cheek made it hard to enjoy the moment. Faster than he thought an older woman could manage, Augusta turned and grabbed a handful of floo powder from the vase before throwing it to the fireplace. "Go. And when I get home, you'd better adopt a much more respectful attitude, young man."

Neville opened his mouth, rebellious words on the tip of his tongue before he thought better of it. He looked at Harry with raw hatred behind his bloodshot eyes, loudly scoffed and bumped past Dumbledore. He entered the green fire and disappeared behind the flames.

The silence stretched for a moment until Mrs Weasley loudly walked out of the room, shaking her head and muttering to herself. Harry didn't turn back, instead he looked towards Augusta, who was glaring at him. Daring him to say or do something. And for this one moment, he held all the power in his hands. And if it wasn't counterproductive towards his plans, he might have taken advantage of it. But he didn't. Didn't even allow himself to smile.

Dumbledore cleared his throat before attempting an empty smile. "Let's go. I'm sure that Rufus is already wondering where we are."

The DMLE looked exactly like he remembered, a full week of living there had given him a fair lay of the land. And though he'd braced himself for the memories to assault him once he reached the place, he was pleasantly surprised to find that there were none. He didn't see Susan's corpse lurking in the corners of the room, or hear her voice as he waited with Scrimgeour's secretary. Nothing. It was all quiet. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and felt his eyes sting slightly.

There was work to be done. Tomorrow. Next month. Next year. A long time until it was all over. But for now, he basked in the peace. This was as good as he'd ever gotten, and knowing what would come, as good as he'd ever get. And he was going to take it.

"Albus," he heard Scrimgeour's stern, yet courteous voice before he saw the man. He was more serious than the other times he'd seen him, a feat since two out of the three times had been because of a murder. His eyes immediately found Harry, but they didn't linger for long. "You told me you found him last night."

"I did."

"Then why wasn't he brought to me in that instant?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely confused. "I found a starving young man, covered in mud and in clear need of a good rest, and you wonder why I didn't bring him here to be interrogated?"

"Where did you take him?"

"I called Poppy, and she was more than happy to let him stay the night at her cottage. She fed him, nourished him, and gave him the chance for a hot bath and a bed. I trust you know I brought him to you as soon as I could."

"And did Madam Longbottom allow this? Or did you take that decision yourself?"

"The boy was in clear need of a mediwitch, Head Auror," Augusta sneered, somehow seeming taller than the taller man. "What are you trying to imply here?"

"I'm not implying anything here, Madam Longbottom. My Aurors searched the country for the boy, nearly a full-month doing that, there has never been a runaway that has evaded us for that long. You'll find my concern rightly placed."

A thousand rebukes crossed Harry's mind in a second, but he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He doubted Scrimgeour would buy any act where he was even slightly nicer, especially after a supposed month on the run. However he couldn't compromise his image with Dumbledore so soon. He needed to keep his mouth shut as much as old habits died hard, and after years of running his mouth it took a whole lot more effort than he ever thought it would.

"We both know Harry Potter isn't your regular runaway. He's a capable young wizard-"

"The trace would have picked it up."

"Not apparition." Dumbledore said calmly. "An art Mister Potter has seemingly mastered."

Scrimgeour turned towards him, scrutinized him. "Indeed. Where did you say you found him, Albus?"

"Aberforth found him trying to steal a Sunday roast from the Hog's Head. He called me immediately when he realised who he was."

"How very lucky of Aberforth to catch him." Scrimgeour said, still looking at him. "I don't think he would have lasted much longer."

"We're all grateful," Augusta said, though her tone didn't seem even slightly grateful.

"Would you mind giving a statement?" Scrimgeour asked Dumbledore. "Robards would be more than happy to take it."

"Of course," Dumbledore smiled. "Do you want me to call Aberforth as well?"

"Yes, please. You are welcome to use my floo."

With a short nod, Dumbledore turned around, leaving Augusta and Harry alone with Scrimgeour.

"Madam Longbottom, I'd like to speak to the boy, if you will."

"Lead the way, Head Auror."

"You misunderstand me." Scrimgeour smile politely, and as soon as he did, Harry felt the hairs at the back of his head stand up. "I'd like to speak to him alone."

"I can't allow that."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice here. It's standard procedure with all runaways, nothing to worry about. You're more than welcome to stay in the waiting room with my secretary. I'm sure young Mister Potter here will be out shortly."

"Very well," she said curtly, before giving him a strong look. One that promised death and vengeance if he ever were to say more than he should. He'd never thought there would come a day when he would have to hold back as many smiles as he had today. Augusta turned and scurried away before Scrimgeour led him into his office.

Cold and mostly empty, it was precisely the type of office he would expect of someone like Rufus Scrimgeour. Orderly and devoid of life. The chairs were as rigid as the man himself, but Harry finally felt the slightest bit of freedom. In here he could act as he pleased. Scrimgeour knew him, ever since their first interview, he could tell Scrimgeour read him like a book. He knew Harry to his very core, there was no fooling him. But Scrimgeour didn't have access to Grimmauld, and he wouldn't see anything suspicious in him being free for a while.

What had the world come to where the man he was most comfortable with was the one who tried to put him away for murder?

"The Hog's Head." Scrimgeour broke the silence, staring at him from the other side of the desk. "Nice tavern?"

"The owner's much less of a dick, that's for sure." Harry said coldly.

"And Dumbledore found you?"

"Aberforth."

"Dumbledore's brother."

"Whatever." Harry rolled his eyes. "When people say Dumbledore, they never mean the brother."

"Sounds like you can sympathize."

"I really can't." He said dryly. "Never had a brother, see?"

Scrimgeour held his gaze for a couple of seconds before sighing. "Are you really going to do this? Keep pretending this concocted version of events is what happened?"

"It is what happened."

"You think yourself more capable than the entire DMLE?"

"Where was the DMLE when I was forced to deal with Dolohov and his men?"

"You want to know what I think?" Scrimgeour asked, inching forward in his desk. "I don't think you were ever missing in the first place."

"No, no. You're right. Madam Longbottom just faked my disappearance as an excuse to get involved with a dark magic cult. Is that it? Or is she secretly a Death Eater? No, no. Maybe they just sent me on an all-expenses paid holiday to fucking Skegness. What's your theory, detective?"

"I don't have any at the moment, and it's not detective. It's Head Auror." Scrimgeour said coldly. "I'm not interested in crafting theories or spouting nonsense. I'm only here to tell you the facts, and there's only one I'm sure of. You were never missing."

"Well, no, I wasn't. I never got lost, you see?"

"Where were you then?"

"Around." Harry bit out.

"Around where?"

"Somewhere."

"Around somewhere?"

"Yep."

"Is that where Hermione Granger found you?" He asked calmly, so nonchalantly Harry almost missed it.

"Granger?"

"Hermione Granger, yes."

The conversation had been fast-paced enough that halting was a sign of weakness. A sign of lying. A sign that you were fucked. He couldn't afford to think about his answers, and the curveball of Hermione Granger wasn't something he was expecting. So, when he said, "Don't know her", tried very hard not to cringe.

"Hogwarts fifth-year. Gryffindor. I'm sure you do."

"No, I don't." He said, committing to his lie.

"Well, she knows you, told me she knew where you were. Now, how would she know that?"

"I don't…" He stopped, and Scrimgeour's eyes gleamed with the hint of a smile. But Harry didn't care about that. Scrimgeour had set the pace, thought he could trap him with that, and he did. But he had made a mistake in trying that. He'd slipped up. "Hermione Granger, huh?"

"You remember her now?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. What completely escapes me is why she would ever talk to you."

"It was part of the investigation."

"Investigation?"

"You went missing for a month. Surely, you didn't expect us to not contact your friends."

"My friends, yes. But Hermione Granger isn't my friend. I don't think I'd had more than a couple of words with her before this year. And you… you know that. You interviewed us all. I'll have a pretty big gander that you managed to figure out who was friends with whom, more or less."

"I have little care for student's personal lives."

"Normally, I'm sure. But not this time, not with me. You've taken an interest in me, haven't you?"

"This interview is over, Mister Potter." Scrimgeour stood up. "You've given me enough for my investigation. That'll be all."

"Oh, no." Harry said coldly. "You don't get to say when we're done. You escorted me to the Ministry, why didn't you send whatever rookie that night?" Scrimgeour didn't answer, but Harry kept speaking. "And the day of the Three Broomsticks attack you went in yourself, Head Auror. More than that, you were the first man inside. Is that something common for a man of your rank? Tell me, what were you hoping to find? You've had it in for me since November, since Montague's murder. You made those interrogations all about me, didn't you? Bringing my name up before we even met face to face. And not just to Slytherins, but to Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws… Gryffindors. Is that how you met Granger? Why you two began talking?"

"I'd advise you halt your insinuations, Mister Potter." Scrimgeour said, a hint of threat behind his words. "Neither of us would like to say something we'd regret."

Scrimgeour was right, he'd run his mouth too much. Keeping his realisation hidden would have been a better move. But he didn't. And if he'd tried, it could have easily failed. But that didn't mean he couldn't stop before he slipped up in something he was unable to take back. Especially knowing now that he wasn't as in the clear about Montague and Davis as he had previously thought.

Then again, it was clear Scrimgeour was a stubborn bastard. One who had found his culprit and wasn't willing to let it go. And Harry had made his choice. There was no life after this. No happy ending. Not for him. He'd made his peace with his choice, given his life purpose. In any scenario, it wouldn't matter if Scrimgeour found out. He wouldn't be able to prove it. And if he did, he wouldn't be able to catch him.

"I'm not the one dreaming up insinuations, Head Auror. And if I were you, I'd hope that's all they were. Dreams. Because if they're not, then it would mean you sent an innocent girl to the worst sort of hellhole imaginable. And with this latest siege… I don't know about you, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did."

Grimmauld Place

2:25 p.m.

Surprisingly, Harry made it back to Grimmauld in one piece. Scrimgeour didn't rip his head off, though Harry could see it took a lot of restraint from the Head Auror. And Augusta hadn't delivered him to Sirius again. Hadn't imprisoned him in some hidden dungeon within her house. She'd apparated him straight to Grimmauld, and popped away without a word.

Everyone had been exceedingly nosy about the whole affair, asking after what Scrimgeour had asked him during their private interview, and more importantly, what he had told the man. Ginny and Mrs Weasley were mostly curious rather than concerned about what he could have said. Moody wasn't, though at least he was blunt with his approach to making sure he hadn't sold out the Order for his freedom.

"The Order's important," he barked out. "Whatever those idiots did to you… we're more than that. Without us, Voldemort would have a straight path paved towards victory, with no one to stop him."

"And you think you can?" Harry asked. "Stop him, I mean."

"We can slow him down." Moody shrugged. "In the end it's men like Dumbledore, and those touched by Fate and Magic like Longbottom who have the slightest bit of chance."

Harry doubted Longbottom could do anything more than breath in Voldemort's general direction, but he wasn't about to say that. Especially since Moody at least praised Fate and Magic and not Longbottom himself for the feat. At least people out there knew he didn't shit gold.

It was only once he'd finished getting hounded by everyone in the house that he finally managed to make it back into his room. But instead of the peace and quiet and a long conversation with Regulus where he told him what had actually happened inside Scrimgeour's office, he found Dumbledore sitting on the bed. The old man looked up when he closed the door behind him, and he gave him a soft smile.

"Sorry for the intrusion."

Harry shrugged, his eyes roaming around the room for any clues of snooping. "It's your place, sir. I'm only your guest here."

Everything seemed right where he had left it. All drawers closed completely, everything on his desk in the exact position he'd left it. He had nothing hidden in his closet or anywhere else in the room other than underneath his bed. A childish hiding place, but he rather doubted Dumbledore would get on his knees and snoop around under there. And since the man in question was currently sitting atop the bed, he couldn't check if Regulus was still there.

He could only pray to whatever bullshit God wizards worshipped.

"Augusta informed me of the situation."

"It was mostly harmless questions," Harry said, pulling out the chair from his desk and taking a seat in front of Dumbledore. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"I wouldn't have brought you there if I didn't think you could." Dumbledore let that sentence sit, filling the room as he stared directly at Harry. "I really must thank you for this once more, Harry. It takes great courage to stand up for yourself when you feel you've been wrong. But it pales in comparison to the strength it takes not to seek retribution against those who wronged you."

"You didn't wrong me," Harry said, trying to believe it for a moment. For negligence was still considered a crime. "I didn't want to make you and the rest of the people here pay for Sirius' crimes."

"I thank you for that." Dumbledore smiled.

"What are you doing about Sirius?" It was a heavy question, one he couldn't possibly attempt to make it come off as natural or even discreetly. But it was one he needed an answer to, and he needed it now. "You told me you kicked him out of the house after he… after what he did. Is something else being done about it?"

"Like I told you last week, I've been talking to Ollivander, Gregorovitch, and other experts in wandlore I'm acquainted with-"

"Not with the wand," Harry interrupted. The topic was Sirius, so he was allowed to be a bit more forceful about it. He was taking that opportunity. "With Sirius."

"Sirius is complicated."

"How is this complicated?"

"Because Sirius is only another name on my long list of failures," Dumbledore said hollowly.

"Failures?" He didn't have to fake the strangled tone to his voice.

"I know you see him as a monster, and I understand why, but Sirius is far from that. He is a broken man, one whose life has been filled with nothing but pain and tragedy, with very few rays of sun in between."

Because what I did… it's not something I'm proud of. Just the contrary, it was the worst mistake of my life.

"Because of his brother?" Harry asked, immediately cursing himself when he realised no one had told him about Regulus yet. "Sirius told me about him when he came to visit me on Christmas. His… snake brother. What happened between them?"

"That's a private tale. One only Sirius should tell."

"He hates Slytherins because of that bastard," Harry snapped. "He did this to me because of him. After losing my wand, I feel like I at least deserve to know why."

Dumbledore sighed, slightly slouching as his eyes conceded. "Sirius was always the black sheep of his family, the Black's white sheep, if you will. Hated by his family, as soon as he entered Hogwarts, he didn't hesitate to leave them behind the moment he was placed in Gryffindor. Making quick friends with three boys… with your father, especially. He found his new family and stuck with it. Through all their trials and tribulations, he always remained loyal to them. For he didn't have much with his blood family. His parents abused him to the point where he ran away to the Potters right after he finished his OWLs and his cousins tried their best to make his life hell, all but Andromeda. His entire family had welcomed Voldemort's embrace, and Sirius made it sufficiently clear he would not be joining them on their path."

"But his brother?"

"Regulus was a young, bright boy. One of the smartest in his year, he had a bright future ahead of him. But more than that, he was the only Black Sirius ever loved. His baby brother. Sirius has always taken on the role of a protector, doing whatever he thought necessary to look out for those he loved. And it all started with Regulus. Even when they were mere boys, Sirius would take the fall for his brother's misconduct. Inside Hogwarts, he'd defend him from other students, even though they were in different houses and different years. Sirius would have done anything for Regulus… he would have chopped off his right arm just for a chance to save his life.

"But as was the case with numerous students of Hogwarts at the time, Regulus became seduced by Voldemort's promises, and those of his followers. They began to romanticize the life they would lead as a Death Eater, convinced themselves their ideals weren't bigotry but self empowerment. Young minds are very susceptible to suggestion, any suggestion too enticing or delivered by a charismatic vessel is enough to begin tempting them. To blind them to reason."

"So that's it?" Harry asked. "His brother began supporting Voldemort, and they just had a falling out."

Dumbledore gave him a sad smile. "I wish it had been so harmless. No, Sirius didn't know at first, you see. Just like Regulus, he was blinded to reason by his love for his brother. We all were when Regulus showed up to Sirius' flat, bloody and bruised and begging for help. He told Sirius that his parents had done this to him. That once he'd realised what Voldemort really was, how wrong he had been for supporting a monster like that, he'd rebelled against his parents. The wounds were real, and he even had scars gushing with dark magic to prove it. We helped him, healed him and in time, after he worked to prove himself, we took him in. We made him a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

Harry gave a soft scoff. He didn't need to hear more, he'd lived this story before. "He didn't defect, did he?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "We had no reason to doubt him. For eight months he showed nothing but devotion to the cause, and the bonds he built with Sirius and the others - your father, Lupin… Pettigrew - it seemed genuine from the outside. And I know it felt genuine to Sirius and the others. It was a little over a year after this that he finally revealed his true colours. He and Sirius were leading a raid on the Lestrange property along with Benjy Fenwick, Caradoc Dearborn and Dorcas Meadows. It was a sudden affair. After helping out with an attack on Tinworth, they followed a couple of stragglers into the Lestrange property. Regulus didn't have the time, the opportunity to warn them. And with Sirius being stubborn about continuing rather than backing off, Regulus was left with no choice but to betray them in the middle of the fight. He murdered Benjy and Dorcas, both attacked from behind. By the time Sirius and Caradoc figured out what was happening, it was too late. They were taken prisoner. Your parents led the charge to rescue them, but alas it was too late. Caradoc had been tortured to death, and Sirius wasn't far behind. Five days in captivity. Tortured by his own brother. Betrayed. Three of his friends dead because he placed his faith in the wrong man."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. He'd seen it happen, the few times he'd asked him about either of the previous wars he'd taken part in. It physically aged him whenever he revisited those memories. Perhaps he would've felt pity for Dumbledore if he hadn't known Regulus. Talked to him every day since he woke up, and even before that when he was in his cell. Felt like he'd made, if not a friend, then at least an ally. And in the end, it turned out he wasn't better than bastards like Montague or Dolohov. Like Ares or anyone else he had ever known.

And yet… it was hard reconciling the jaunty, cheerful, if slightly arrogant man from the portrait with the ruthless, cruel killer from the story.

"Sirius never spoke about what happened during those five days. Not to me or even James. But he never mentioned his brother's name after that. His face went cold whenever he heard it. And for his family and Slytherins as a whole… he treated them with nothing but hatred and prejudice after that. I'd say all of that… what happened with his parents, his brother, his friends… and then to spend more than a decade surrounded by dementors every second of the day… that's enough punishment, even for a man like him. Don't you think?"

That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!

Next chapter you'll get to see more of what's going on in Neville's mind while also catching up with Sirius and Hermione. Be excited!

By the time I'm posting this, I'm ELEVEN chapters ahead, and nearing the end of the following arc titled Irreconcilable Differences. In which the Winter Break is over and the return to Hogwarts brings a lot of tensions begin to boil over. If you are interested in learning how to get early access to them, join my discord server using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT

As always, thank you for reading, favouriting, and commenting! I appreciate all of you! :)