Chapter Text
“ You! ”
The scream reverberated through the house, reaching Regulus even where he was in the kitchen. He sighed, setting aside his potion ingredients, and made his way upstairs.
“How dare you set foot in my house again, blood traitor? Betrayed! After all I have done for you, betrayed by my own flesh, and now you return?” Regulus’s mother shrieked. Regulus stepped into the entrance hallway, taking in his new visitors.
“Well,” said Sirius drily, a bitter expression on his face. “This is a fitting welcome.”
“Mother, please,” Regulus snapped. “Good morning, Siri, Remus. You brought the thestral?” he asked, surprised. The beast could barely fit within the hallway; Regulus doubted her wings could even extend halfway if she tried. She seemed anxious, huffing and shifting where she stood, and Sirius patted her on the nose absentmindedly.
“And you ,” his mother spat. “My sweet son, corrupted! Harboring blood traitors and half breeds in our ancestral home —”
“Would you shut up, woman?” Sirius snarled. “You couldn’t have taken her down?” he asked Regulus.
“Permanent sticking charm,” he replied apologetically. He had tried; once he had realized the type of people who were going to be coming in and out his front doors, well… Walburga Black didn’t seem like the best thing to have greeting them.
“Well, we’ll have to do something about that,” Sirius muttered, as his mother railed on. “Come on, ‘Seph,” he said, guiding the thestral forward and up the stairs. “You can have the old hag’s room.” Remus trailed behind him, bearing several bags of luggage.
“I take it you’re staying here, then?” Regulus asked him.
He shrugged. “It’s much more convenient than renting my own place, given that I’m going to be so involved in the Order anyway.”
“Should I have prepared you a separate room, or..?”
“Fuck off, Reg,” Sirius called from ahead of them, and Regulus bit back a smile.
“No,” Remus replied, pointedly ignoring Sirius. “Thank you.”
So they were officially back together, then. That was good to know.
“Are you ready for the meeting?” Remus asked.
Regulus hesitated. “I suppose I have to be, don’t I?”
He wasn’t sure exactly who would be joining the Order of the Phoenix, but he doubted that they would take too kindly to him being a former Death Eater. He was certain Severus would be there, which only added to his trepidation; he was exhausting enough to deal with on his own, much less with Sirius there. What he was most afraid of, however, was the very real possibility that Charlie and Hagrid would be there. He didn’t know how they would react to finding out his identity, but he was a Death Eater . It wasn’t exactly something any sane person would be happy to hear.
Remus patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine,” he said.
“Would you two hurry up?” called Sirius, and they followed him into the master bedroom. He waved his wand, rearranging furniture. It wasn’t exactly the ideal thestral habitat, although if they put a few enchantments on the room it could certainly be improved — something to adjust the climate, perhaps, and an illusion to make the space seem larger — or would that just have her running into walls? Thestrals weren’t meant for enclosed spaces.
“You know, if Hagrid’s part of the Order, we could probably bring her back to Hogwarts,” Regulus said. “She’d probably be better off returning to the herd.”
“Oh,” said Sirius, pausing in his movements. “That’s — that’s probably the smart thing to do, yeah. “ Regulus was pretty sure he could hear a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
“I mean, if you would prefer to keep her —”
“No, she should go,” Sirius said firmly. He patted her on the snout. “I fed her just before we left, so she should be good for a while.” He reached down, grabbing a couple of the bags of luggage, and made his way out of the room.
“Oh, it’s you ,” Regulus heard him say, disgust lacing his voice. Immediately, Regulus rushed out of the room.
“Master Sirius has returned,” said Kreacher, bowing. “Master has the insolence to return to his mother’s house after he became a blood traitor and broke his family’s hearts, he —”
“Fucking lovely,” said Sirius. “Kreacher —”
“Would both of you just get along? Please?” interrupted Regulus. “I’m sorry,” he said to Kreacher, who was staring up at him with wide, betrayed eyes.
“What, so I don’t get an apology?” Sirius snapped.
“Be the bigger person, Siri,” Regulus said coldly. “ Both of you need to be civil with each other. I’m not asking for kindness, just civility. You should be able to manage that.”
“Kreacher will do what Master Regulus says, even if Master Sirius is a mudblood-defending blood traitor who —”
“One more thing, Kreacher,” Regulus said, wincing slightly. “You can’t use the word mudblood anymore, okay? Try not to say blood traitor either.”
Try not? he could see Sirius mouthing at Remus exaggeratedly.
“Kreacher will listen to Master Regulus,” Kreacher mumbled, glaring at Sirius.
Regulus turned toward Sirius, looking at him expectantly. “Well?”
Sirius threw up his hands. “As long as he keeps his ugly face out of my business —”
“Siri!” Regulus snapped.
“Sirius,” said Remus, a touch of exasperation in his tone. “There’s no reason to antagonize him.”
Sirius glanced between the two of them, glaring. “Fine,” he snapped, lifting up his luggage and pushing his way upstairs.
“That could have gone better,” Regulus mumbled.
“Could’ve gone worse,” Remus replied, making to follow Sirius. “You coming?”
Regulus shook his head. “I’ll meet you two downstairs. Ask Siri if he thinks we should have the meeting in the dining room or the kitchen,” he added. Remus nodded, heading up the stairs as Regulus went the opposite direction, making his way to the dining room.
The house was sparkling — not as he had seen it when he’d first returned, decrepit and haunted, but clean and grand as it had been in his childhood. He almost wished it wasn’t. He kept wanting to do something to prepare for the arrival of the Order, but everything was so spotless he wasn’t sure what he could do except wait.
He checked his watch. Forty-five minutes until people were supposed to arrive. He wasn’t sure whether he should take his potion now or at the half hour mark. He was going to be revealing his identity — Dumbledore had made that much clear — but there was no reason he shouldn’t ease into it, as it were, with a more familiar face.
Siri’s return to the ground floor was marked by the screeching of his mother. He ambled into the dining room, Remus at his side, and took a seat across from Regulus. “We could cover her somehow,” he offered.
“With what? It’s a bit late to put in another wall.” Sirius opened his mouth, but Regulus cut him off. “And we are not painting over her, that’s immoral.”
Sirius snorted. “Pity,” he said drily.
“We could try curtains,” Remus proposed.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Regulus admitted. “I would prefer not to do it, though.”
Sirius grinned. “We could get Kreacher to —”
“No,” Regulus said flatly.
“Well I’m not going —”
“I’ll do it,” Remus interrupted. “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”
And he left, leaving the two of them alone for the first time since their meeting in the cave a few months ago.
“So,” Sirius said, drumming his fingers on the table. Regulus waited, but he didn’t say anything else.
“Who’s going to be there?” Regulus asked eventually.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Sirius admitted. “I think something like ten or eleven of us from the first war, and then whoever the others have managed to recruit. Most of the people from the first war…” He trailed off, but the implication was clear enough. “Anyway, I’m not sure. We’ll see.”
“Where should we hold the meeting?” asked Regulus. “Should I offer them tea?”
“Kitchens, as long as you can keep… Kreacher… out,” Sirius responded. “And I suppose you can, if you’d like.”
“I already asked him to stay away for the first meeting, I don’t think he’d take too kindly to them… Is there anything important I should know, about the Order members? So that I don’t… accidentally insult them, or something.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. “Voldemort just came back. I’m pretty sure you have bigger things to worry about.”
“I can worry about multiple things, Siri,” Regulus snapped. “It happens to be a talent of mine.”
Sirius snorted. “There’s nothing you need to know,” he assured him. “I’m sure everyone will introduce themselves. Just don’t start spouting off about pureblood supremacy and you’ll be fine.”
“I’m fairly certain that’s the main conversation topic,” he replied drily.
Sirius shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Guess you’re fucked, then.” Regulus glared at him, and the corners of his mouth twitched up. The smile dropped off his face as he surveyed the room. “Merlin,” he said. “Never thought I’d be back in this hellhole.”
Regulus had the reflexive urge to defend the place, but he pushed it down; even for him, this house held bad memories. He knew it was worse for Siri.
Sirius heaved a sigh, rising. His hand hovered over the back of the chair, a small frown on his lips, before he shook his head. “C’mon,” he said. “We should head downstairs.”
Regulus trailed him out of the dining room, noticing that their mother’s screaming had abruptly stopped. Remus hurried to catch up to them, slightly out of breath. Sirius wandered over to one of the dining room’s chairs, flopping down unceremoniously and propping one of his legs up on the chair next to him. Regulus wrinkled his nose at his brother’s horrendous posture, but didn’t comment, instead hurrying back over to his cauldron. He had been about to start brewing another batch of Polyjuice Potion when they’d arrived; there was hardly time now, though, so he started packing away his ingredients. He checked his watch again — roughly half an hour until the meeting started. He pulled out some of his previously brewed potion and tossed in a hair, waving his wand over it to complete it, and drank.
The first two members arrived fifteen minutes early. One of them, a short, bubbly man in a neat black robe and a purple, squared-off hat embraced Sirius immediately.
“Sirius, it’s a pleasure to see you! I was so happy to hear the news, you know, of your innocence,” he said.
“Good to see you too, Dedalus,” Sirius replied, wincing slightly.
The other person, an elderly woman dressed entirely in Muggle clothing, smiled at all three of them.
“It’s wonderful to be back,” she said, “although, given the circumstances…” She looked around, peering up toward the hallway from whence they had come. “This is your house, then, Sirius?”
Sirius shifted uncomfortably, catching Regulus’s eye. Regulus stared at him meaningfully, as if by willing him to do so he would say yes.
“Grew up in these very halls,” he eventually said, his tone flat.
“It’s very… nice,” the old woman said. “Very… clean.”
Sirius snorted. “Nice isn’t the word I would use. Come on, take a seat,” he said, gesturing at the table.
A few more people trickled in before Dumbledore arrived, bearing with him Severus, McGonagall, Hagrid, and two people Regulus didn’t recognize. Severus cast a hateful glance at Sirius, Remus, and Regulus before sweeping his way to the end of the table, settling himself immediately to the left of the head. The old woman tried in vain to engage him in conversation, but quickly gave up on his cold responses. Hagrid and McGonagall, on the other hand, beelined for Regulus, both of them looking surprised.
“Antares!” Hagrid said. “Didn’ know yeh were part o’ this.”
“I am,” he said. He tried to smile back, but he found that he couldn’t, acutely aware of the fact that by the end of the day Hagrid would know who he really was. “It’s good to see you both.”
McGonagall nodded at him, Hagrid beamed, and Regulus had half a mind to walk over to Dumbledore and insist he keep his identity a secret.
“Pardon me, I need to, um,” he said, gesturing vaguely behind him, and he slipped out of the room and into the bathroom. He ran his hands under the water, trying to let the cold focus him, and stared into the mirror at the face that wasn’t his. He didn’t like the lying, not really, but he’d liked the fresh start. He liked the life he’d built.
He’d still have Aurora and the students, he reasoned. But Hagrid had been the first friend he’d made since he’d woken up, and Charlie…
Charlie was a friend, too. Any other… feelings Regulus may have been having were inconvenient and, more importantly, temporary. Besides, he didn’t even know if Charlie was coming — none of the Weasleys had arrived yet.
He made his way back into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of water. People had begun to take their seats, McGonagall and Hagrid sitting beside Severus. There seemed to be intention in all of the groupings, actually — a tall dark man in royal blue robes was chatting amicably with the others, but there were still two seats open at his sides, and people seemed to be skirting around an unoccupied group of five chairs toward the foot of the table. Sirius had taken a seat at the right hand, directly across from Severus, and the two currently engaged in what seemed to be a competition to glare each other to death. Sighing, Regulus went over to them, sitting beside Sirius.
He broke his gaze, turning to frown at Regulus. “That was supposed to be for Moony,” he said.
“I don’t mind,” said Remus, filling in the seat at Regulus’s other side. “Now —”
He was interrupted by the sound of Moody entering the room, his wooden leg thunking violently against the floor. Regulus flinched hard enough that Remus turned to him, frowning, but he quickly looked away. Unfortunately, that only put him in line with McGonagall’s shrewd gaze instead.
There was another thump, and the distinct rattle of china wavering dangerously from within the cabinet. “Sorry!” a new voice said, and a purple-haired woman came into view, looking apologetic.
“Careful there,” growled Moody in his low, grating voice, and Regulus fought the urge to shudder. Despite having had to work with Moody last year — or who he’d assumed was Moody — he’d done his best to avoid ever being in proximity to him. The only time they’d been in a room together aside from meals was when Potter’s name had been drawn from the goblet. He’d spent so much of last year worrying that if Moody found out about him, he’d meet the same fate as Evan, and now he was going to willingly tell him.
It was insanity.
Moody and the woman took the empty places beside the man in blue, which left the entire table filled except for the five seats at the end. Regulus glanced at his watch; one minute over.
The clock ticked by. Two minutes — three — at five, Dumbledore began to frown. At eight, he spoke.“Perhaps one of us would be willing to check up on the Weasleys? They are usually quite punctual, and I don’t believe they would be late for something such as this.”
“I’ll go,” said the purple-haired woman, rising.
“Certainly,” Moody rumbled at the same time.
“Oh, Mad-Eye, would you prefer —” she began, but cut herself off at the sound of someone quickly coming down the stairs.
Bill appeared in the doorway, his hair messy and his jacket askew — he looked rather frazzled, but Regulus wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t just the Muggle style. “Afternoon, Dumbledore, sorry we’re late, nobody mention Percy ,” he said, slightly out of breath.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, but nodded, waving his hand. One of the chairs removed itself from beside the table, settling against the wall with the other spares.
A moment later, Charlie came bounding down the stairs and into the room.
“Hey, all,” he said, looking slightly uncomfortable with the attention. His eyes landed on the woman with the purple hair and visibly widened. “Tonks?” he exclaimed.
Regulus’s head whipped toward Sirius, who was likewise staring at the woman in shock. Tonks — that was the name of the Muggleborn Andy had run off with —
“Wotcher, Cal,” said the woman — Tonks, and Charlie wrapped her in a hug.
“Merlin, it’s been ages!”
“Wait, you can’t be…” Sirius interrupted. “Dora?”
She grinned sheepishly. “Hey, Uncle Sirius.”
Regulus studied her. She looked nothing like Andromeda; her features were softer, generally, and the hair was certainly different. She had the same dark eyes, but their shape was all wrong, far thinner than Andy’s were.
“You grew up fast,” Sirius said softly.
A new man entered the kitchen — the Weasley father, probably. At his side was Molly, back straight and gaze firmly ahead; when she entered, she smiled at the room, but it was immediately clear that she had been crying recently.
“So sorry about that, Dumbledore,” said Mr. Weasley, pulling out her chair before seating himself in between his wife and Dedalus. “We were having some trouble, with, um,” he glanced toward Molly, whose lip was trembling, “some family trouble,” he finished.
“It is no problem at all, Arthur,” Dumbledore said. “Now,” he said, addressing the rest of them. “I am sure you are all aware of the dire circumstances that have brought us together. The lives of innocents have already been lost in Voldemort’s quest for dominance. He will doubtless take countless more before we manage to destroy him. But he will be defeated.”
He straightened, his face losing some of its grim countenance. “In the meantime, I believe introductions are in order. Severus?” he said, nodding toward him.
Severus turned minutely toward the rest of the table, looking as though he had just swallowed something distasteful. Regulus looked at the rest of the table. The oldest members of the Order watched with neutral expressions, but a little over half of the people younger than Moody were looking at him with open or barely concealed dislike.
“As I am sure you all know, I am Severus Snape,” he said, his voice, though quiet, carrying easily across the room. Sirius scoffed quietly, and Severus’s eyes flicked toward him, his lip curling. “I am the professor of potions at Hogwarts. I was formerly a Death Eater,” he continued, and murmurs of surprise rose from the table, “and I have returned to the Dark Lord’s service as a spy for Dumbledore.”
Apparently he thought that was sufficient, for he faced forward once again and was silent. Several members of the Order shifted in their seats, looking as though they wanted to speak. Moody and Sirius both opened their mouths, and Regulus felt relief crashing through him as Dumbledore interrupted them.
“Minerva?” he said pointedly.
“I believe I am known to most of you,” she said. “I am, of course, a professor at Hogwarts, and I believe that may be where I will be most helpful to the Order.” She looked over the table for a moment before nodding to Hagrid.
“Rubeus Hagrid,” he said. “Keeper o’ the keys an’ grounds at Hogwarts. Me an’ Olympe are gonna be headin’ ter try an’ make peace with the giants.”
“Hestia Jones,” said the next witch, pushing strands of inky-black hair out of her face. “Healer at St Mungos, third floor.”
Sturgis Podmore, potioneer, was next, and then it was Andy’s daughter.
“Tonks,” she said, to several raised eyebrows. “Nymphadora,” she clarified with a sigh. “But if any of you call me that, I’m hexing you. I’m an Auror.”
The name was interesting, as was her refusal to use it. Regulus made a note to unpack that later.
“I’m Kingsley Shaklebolt. I am an Auror as well,” said the man in blue.
“All of you know who I am,” growled Moody. “All of you know why I’m here. What you don’t know is the same thing I don’t, and that is why Dumbledore is choosing to let an enemy walk into our base and learn all our secrets.”
“Alastor,” said Dumbledore sharply.
“I’m not the only one who doesn’t trust him, Dumbledore,” said Moody, staring at Dumbledore with both of his eyes. Dumbledore held his gaze. He didn’t look angry, per say, but nearly. Angry enough to make Regulus uncomfortable, anyway.
“I wouldn’t mind a bit more of an explanation,” Sturgis finally said.
Dumbledore let out a long breath from his nose. “It is not my place to divulge the secrets of anyone here. I assure you that the former Death Eaters whom I have brought to the Order have my complete trust.”
There was a pregnant silence before Bill finally spoke. “Sorry, did you say Death Eaters ?” Regulus chanced a glance down the table. Most of the Order had its attention on Dumbledore, rapt — hoping, perhaps, that he would say no. Charlie, on the other hand, was looking at Regulus, expressionless. He forced himself to look away, his eyes sliding forward. Severus, too, was watching him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“I’m pretty sure that’s your cue,” said Remus affably, looking toward him, and Regulus felt it as the Order’s eyes followed. Their gaze was palpable, pressing down on Regulus oppressively. He was half convinced someone had hexed him while he wasn’t looking.
“I, ah,” he said, his voice sounding shockingly weak to his own ears. He was suddenly hyper aware of his own body, his own presence. What was he doing ? He forced his old instincts to kick in, lifting his head, wiping his face of emotion; when he next spoke, he thought his voice sounded stronger. “I am a defected Death Eater.”
He was lucky, he thought, that McGonagall was the one across from him. She was rather good at masking her surprise — at lessening it, at least. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the shocked, betrayed expression on Hagrid’s face. He didn’t think he would be able to manage looking at him.
“Knew you were too jumpy around me,” growled Moody. “Which one of your friends did I lock up? Go on, spit it out.”
“None of them,” Reglus responded coldly, his eyes flicking vaguely in Moody’s direction but not landing on him. You didn’t lock him up , he thought. You killed him you killed him you killed him —
“Which of your friends did he kill, then?” asked Severus quietly, looking almost pleased. Regulus didn’t speak, but the table stared at him expectantly.
“Evan,” he replied stiffly, his fingernails digging into the side of his glass.
Severus’s eyes gleamed. “I knew it,” he hissed triumphantly. “As soon as you came to Hogwarts, I knew it —”
“Well, I’m not Sirius, and I wasn’t working with him, so you didn’t, actually,” Regulus said, annoyance creeping into his tone.
Severus smiled cruelly. “I’ll settle for the spare,” he said.
Immediately, Sirius leapt up, wand out; Severus was on his feet only a millisecond later, ready to attack.
“ Protego! ” Remus cast at the same time, forming a barrier between them.
“Now listen here, Snivellus —” Sirius began.
“Sit down, Siri,” Regulus snapped.
Sirius looked down at him. “He said —”
“You don’t care, you’re just looking for a reason to fight him. Sit down , this isn’t about you.”
Sirius glared at him for a moment longer before flopping down into his seat.
“ So nice to see you again, Severus,” Regulus said calmly. “I see you’ve still refused to mature past the age of sixteen.”
“How scathing, coming from someone who wears the body of a man decades his junior. Tell me, did you choose your disguise based purely on vanity or were you just that desperate to escape your own life?”
“Jumping to the wrong conclusions as always, Severus,” he responded.
Severus’s lip curled. “I fail to see any other explanation.”
“Entertaining as this is, can one of you explain what’s going on?” asked Dora. She had lost all of the levity she’d had earlier and was staring at Regulus with an intense, cautious expression.
He flushed slightly, turning away from Severus. “I apologize,” he said. “My name is Regulus Arcturus Black.”
Dora’s eyebrows arched toward her hairline. “Mum’s cousin?” she asked flatly. Regulus was honestly kind of surprised Andromeda had even mentioned him.
“Yes,” he said.
“Mum’s dead cousin,” she clarified.
Regulus winced slightly. “Yes,” he agreed. “Sixteen years ago, when I defected, I entered into a stasis of sorts. I woke up two years ago and started working for Dumbledore.” He fell silent, waiting for the questions to come.
“Was this stasis intentional?” asked Kingsley.
Regulus shook his head. “The… manner in which I defected led to it.”
“And what manner was that?” asked Severus softly, watching him with interest.
“That’s none of your concern,” Regulus snapped.
Severus’s eyebrow twitched upward. “Touchy, aren’t you?” he drawled.
“Pardon me for not wanting to hand information over to a spy,” he hissed.
“Even a spy who’s on your side? Certainly I am no less trustworthy than you… perhaps moreso, given the mysterious manner and timing of your return. You can’t possibly expect us to believe —”
“Enough, Severus,” said Dumbledore, cutting into his speech. He turned his gaze on Regulus, clear disappointment in his face. Logically, Regulus wanted to be defiant, but seeing that look on his face made him want to beg for forgiveness. He ground his teeth together. It was annoying. “It is my wish that the details surrounding his defection are kept a secret.” The Order was silent — disappointed, perhaps, but obedient. For a moment, it reminded Regulus of the Dark Lord and his followers.
This was different, he told himself. There was no fear here, just respect. Still, there was a crawling, desperate need in his chest to please Dumbledore that felt a little too familiar, and paired with the blind loyalty, with the secrets...
This was different. It had to be.
“So,” said Bill, breaking the silence. “What do you look like?”
“My Polyjuice Potion should wear off soon,” Regulus replied, startled. That was a question he definitely hadn’t been expecting.
“Have you killed anyone?” asked Charlie, looking at him for perhaps the first time since his identity had been revealed.
Regulus met his eyes. They were carefully blank, betraying no emotion — or perhaps they truly had none. “No,” he breathed.
Charlie leaned back in his chair and broke their gaze. “And you, Professor?” he called, looking toward Severus. The casual tone that had become so familiar on him had returned.
“That is none of your concern,” said Severus coldly.
“I fear we are straying off topic,” Dumbledore interjected sharply. “I’m afraid our agenda is very tight, so proceed with introductions, please. Further questions can be asked after the meeting.”
The Order obeyed. The two people who had first entered introduced themselves. Dedalus Diggle worked in the Department of Magical Artefacts. The old woman, Arabella Figg, apparently kept tabs on the Muggle world and kept an eye on Potter.
“I cross-breed kneazles and cats in my spare time,” she added, and Regulus felt himself perk up instinctively. He flushed as out of the corner of his eye he noticed Hagrid’s gaze swing toward her in interest and Charlie cock his head. This was really who he’d become, wasn’t it?
The Weasleys were next. Regulus had spent enough time around Charlie and the students to know the information offered — name, occupation. Partway through Bill’s introduction, Regulus felt his Polyjuice Potion fade away. The conversation didn’t stop, but he could see most of the table looking at him in interest. He kept his eyes firmly on Bill, ignoring them, but he couldn’t help watching Charlie in his periphery. He stared at Regulus with the same neutral expression as before, scrutinizing him for so long that eventually Regulus could not help but glance over. Their eyes locked for a millisecond before Regulus yanked his gaze away, feeling a flush begin to crawl up his neck, and forced himself to focus on Bill once more.
After the Weasleys went Elphias Doge, Special Advisor to the Wizengamot; Emmaline Vance, duellist; and Mundungus Fletcher, who, after much prompting, admitted that he was a criminal. Then it was Lupin, Regulus — well, it would have been, had he not gone earlier — and Siri. And then it was time for business.
“The Dark Lord,” Severus explained, “has been made aware that there is a prophecy concerning him and the boy, hidden in the Department of Mysteries. He seeks to obtain it.”
They would be taking shifts — shifts in watching the door and, apparently, shifts in watching Potter. They weren’t supposed to interact with him, either, just watch. Both jobs sounded incredibly boring, in Regulus’s opinion. He understood Dumbledore’s hesitance to tell anyone else about the horcruxes, but he still wanted to. That was what they should be doing, seeking them out, hunting them down.
One they had set up shifts, they moved on. Dumbledore nodded toward Hagrid, who rose.
“Olympe an’ me are goin’ teh meet with the giants,” he reported. “We leave tomorrow.”
“It is vital that we convince the giants to join our side rather than the Dark Lord’s,” Dumbledore explained. “This will, however, mean that he will be gone for a significant amount of time. Regulus, I believe you are best equipped to take on his duties in the meantime?”
Regulus stared at him in disbelief. “You expect me to take on two full-time positions at the school?”
Dumbledore stared back at him a moment. “No, of course,” he said, though he seemed somewhat thrown off by the question. “I shall have to contact Miss Grubbly-Plank. Are you amenable to splitting both the groundskeeper and the teaching position with her? She doesn’t have much experience with the former.”
“I can do that,” Regulus responded. This did mean he would probably have to train her, though. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“Excellent. Sturgis, I believe Alastor wanted you to brew some extra Polyjuice Potion.”
“Anything for you, Mad-Eye,” said Sturgis, jotting something down on a piece of paper.
“Charlie,” Dumbledore said. “Were you planning on staying here, or going back to Romania?”
Charlie shrugged. “I mean, I obviously want to go back to work… but I’ll go wherever I’m most needed.”
“I believe that international wizards could be an asset,” Dumbledore mused. “If you returned to Romania, you could help recruit them.”
“Pardon me,” Regulus interrupted. “But how would they be an asset? Unless they were willing to come stay here, they would be useless if a major battle broke out. If we were recruiting exceptionally powerful wizards, perhaps it would be worth it, but I fail to see why international wizards are an advantage.”
“If there is a need to flee England, international connections can provide homes for refugees,” Dumbledore said. “More importantly, they are not so taken by the Ministry and the Prophet; it would be easier to convince them of Voldemort’s return.”
“They’re also less invested,” Sirius pointed out. “Reg is right. You could convince them that Voldemort’s back, but you couldn’t convince them to come fight. You didn’t see the Ministry doing anything about Gr —” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. Regulus narrowed his eyes. Why wouldn’t he be willing to talk about Grindelwald? “We would be able to recruit more people here,” he finished.
“Even so,” said Dumbledore, calmly but firmly, “having a network outside of England would be beneficial. It is up to Charlie whether or not he returns.”
“Can I have some time to think about it?” Charlie asked. Dumbledore nodded. “Okay, great, um, I guess I’ll poke around jobs here and make some decisions and get back to you.”
“Molly, when will you and the children be moving in here?”
Regulus choked on the water he was drinking, coughing. Here?
“Here?” Sirius asked in disbelief, echoing his thoughts.
“Yes, Mister Black,” said Dumbledore, sounding faintly amused. “Molly and her four youngest will be moving into this house for the summer, as will Miss Granger and, eventually, Harry.”
“I’m not entirely sure it’s livable,” said Regulus faintly. There certainly weren’t enough beds, though that could be remedied. It was the objects that were in the house that would be a problem.
And Kreacher. How he’d react to a Muggleborn living in his house...
“Guess we’ll have to start getting rid of some things,” Sirius said, a little too gleefully.
“I was thinking next week,” Molly replied, “although if that’s too soon…”
“No, it’s,” Regulus said distractedly, his mind jumping between the rooms, trying to remember all of the dark objects and portraits in them — not that he knew of all of them. “Apologies. That’s fine, so long as they know not to touch… most things,” he said, wincing slightly.
Molly frowned. “The twins might have some trouble, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”
“We’ll clean the place up, Molly,” Sirius assured her.
By the time the meeting ended, Regulus was exhausted. Despite that, he dreaded the end; he wasn’t sure how he would face everyone else once it was over. Okay, he wasn’t sure how he could face Hagrid and Charlie, but that was mostly the same thing.
Charlie went over to chat with Dora immediately, ignoring Regulus. He tried not to feel too disappointed. Hagrid, on the other hand, approached.
“I’m sorry,” Regulus said softly, before he could speak. “I couldn’t tell you.”
“’S alrigh’,” he said, though he still frowned. “Yeh weren’ lyin’ ’bout who yeh were.”
Regulus looked at him in confusion before it clicked. It was the same thing he’d told Hagrid last year. Mortifyingly, he felt tears pricking at the back of his eyes.
“Thank you,” he whispered, not entirely sure he could say anything else. “I wasn’t. I promise.”
“I know,” said Hagrid. “Well — I’d best be goin’. Long day tomorrow,” he said shortly, and Regulus felt his relief deflate. So he hadn’t been forgiven, then.
“Good luck,” Regulus said. Hagrid nodded and turned, ducking under the doorway and exiting.
Most of the Order had filtered out while he was talking to Hagrid, although little pockets of them stayed, catching up. There was no one Regulus knew save Sirius and Remus, so despite all of his hosting instincts, he turned and left, heading up the stairs to his room. He passed a mirror in the hallway, catching a glimpse of his reflection — his own , for once.
Somehow it felt so much worse.