Part IV
Harry already knew he once had a godfather who went by the name Sirius Black. Tom made sure to have Harry well informed on why he had no one but Tom to rely on. However, Tom failed to mention the relation Sirius had with the dangerous rebel Harry was severely warned about. Black wasn’t an uncommon surname, so Harry never made the connection until Regulus pointed it out.
Regulus doesn’t seem dangerous, though. He was fun. It felt so good to have a normal conversation with someone who wasn’t afraid to speak their mind. They talked, and talked, and talked as they walked alongside one another in the graveyard, Inigan tailing behind as usual. Harry found it refreshing to have someone he could speak honestly to about Tom.
And Regulus, he told him everything he knew.
Harry couldn’t believe it. His parents’ murmurer, the one that attacked him as a baby and gave him the scar above his eyes, the one responsible for getting him trapped with the Dursleys. . . was one and the same as the man that rescued him from them? The same man that cared for Harry more than anyone alive ever did?
A part of him wanted to believe that Regulus was lying, that he was trying to turn Harry against the only person who cared enough to save him. But deep down, Harry knew Tom was capable of such atrocities.
He lied to me.
Had he though? Or had Harry never bothered to ask the right questions?
Tom had always given Harry vague answers about what happened to his parents. He had been general in his responses because Harry had never asked for any specifics.
Perhaps Harry never pushed him for more answers because a part of him suspected that Tom had something to do with it, and he thought his guardian preferred not to talk about it because he felt guilty for causing harm to Harry’s family.
But for Tom to be the one who personally saw to their demise? Harry never thought that could even be a possibility.
He wasn’t sheltering me for my safety. He was isolating me from the truth! Were people really out to get Harry? Was Regulus even dangerous?
All these questions made Harry ponder. What else had Tom been hiding from him?
“Would you like to leave this place?” Regulus asked him as they strolled between the lined-up gravestones. Inigan slithered zigzaggedly around the stones.
“And go where?”
“I was thinking to a. . .” Regulus drifted off as though rethinking what he’d said. “Do you know if. . . Tom. . . will be looking for you?”
Harry shrugged. “He might if he thought I’m somewhere I shouldn’t.”
“Does he know you’re here? In Godric Hollow?” Regulus asked cautiously.
“There’s a chance.” Harry answered just as cautiously. “Because of the trace—but he hasn’t shown up yet, so I don’t think he minds. I’m allowed to go to deserted areas alone, and I’m only supposed to go to populated places with him. But he knows I’m careful enough to avoid being seen, and the graveyard is mostly empty.”
Regulus looked enraged. He assured Harry that it had nothing to do with him, but Harry thought it might. But even so, he didn’t feel the need to be wary around the wanted rebel.
Regulus had this air about him that Harry’s gut told him he was safe. Regulus felt unthreatening. He didn’t possess the same magical aura as Tom. In fact, no one did. He radiated warmth that felt similar to the first werewolf Harry had ever encountered, whereas Tom didn’t radiate heat at all, no, Tom’s presence brought coldness that Harry had grown so used to, he no longer felt it chill him to the bone.
As Harry continued to talk to Regulus, he realized how much he craved this kind of companionship. To speak freely to someone who wasn’t bound to Tom was something scarce for Harry. Almost forbidden. It made him want Regulus’ companionship even more.
It had been days since he’d met the Potters’ kid, and there still was no sign of Death Eaters or Voldemort coming to collect his ward. Regulus had stayed in an abended muggle hotel that was Harry’s territory. He would have preferred to have Harry meet everyone, but he could not risk it. He also didn’t want to leave Harry on his own devices. He knew no one wished to harm the kid, and if by chance there was, then the ginormous serpent would literally kill them. He thought Harry was far too young to be left unsupervised, and Regulus would rather be the one to watch over him, even if it put him, Regulus, at great risk.
The red patterned snake with white scales had its body wrapped loosely around Harry’s sleeping form on the hotel room’s bed, keeping the boy well-guarded while resting its head far off. The toxins leaked from the mouth, burning a hole through the floor.
But wait—
Harry wasn’t in bed any longer.
Regulus panicked for a moment, about to start searching frantically before he heard the bathroom door open and close, a wet-haired Harry walked over to a mini fridge to take out a bottle of water.
“Hey, Reg! I forgot to tell you. . .”
Regulus sighed tiredly, he perched himself on the couch, already knowing where this was going. All they ever did was talk.
Harry talked a lot. On one hand, Regulus was secretly grateful that Harry seemed well adjusted and eager to share his personal thoughts considering who raised him. On the other hand, Regulus recognized the constant blabbing as evidence of how lonely the boy had been all this time.
Regulus was a little overwhelmed trying to keep up. Harry spoke nonstop, jumping from topic to topic.
He spoke about wanting to see people play quidditch like he’d seen in pictures, so Regulus shared everything he could about the sport, including the fact that he played Seeker for Slytherin and James Potter used to be Captain for Gryffindor’s team back in their school years. Harry spoke about the discreet adventures he’d had with his enormous snake, then mentioned some disturbing encounters he’d had with some of To—Voldemort’s followers.
He complained to Regulus about Snape’s shoddy teaching, about Dolohov’s cruel comments of him, about the filth Greyback whispered in his ears every time they saw each other. He spoke of all the terrible things he’d witnessed the Death Eaters do. All Regulus wanted to do was hug Harry and promise he’d never have to see them again, but how could he?
The one-sided conversation eventually led Harry to confess what made him run away again (for it was obvious he’d done this before.) Voldemort had been pressuring the poor boy into hurting others for months. Regulus was proud of Harry for not yielding even though the kid clearly craved his guardian’s approval.
He had his parents’ good nature at heart, and that slimy snake didn’t deserve this boy’s love.
“I know it’s horrible, all that he’s done, but I miss him.” Harry whispered with a contorted expression, not meeting Regulus’ eyes. “This is the longest I’ve ever ran away for.”
“Hey, it’s normal to feel that way. He. . . he’s someone you thought you could trust. . . the only family you thought you had.” Regulus grimaced as he said it and hated that it was the truth. “But the way he treats you, Harry, it’s not right. He’s a bad parent to you.”
Harry got a little defensive, but it was only half-hearted. He did face a life-changing revelation just a few days ago. All the more reason for Regulus to stay with him. In a way, he owed it to his brother to care for his godson’s wellbeing.
However, during the kid’s understandably conflicted rant, he had accidentally called ‘Tom’ by his other name.
Regulus froze when Harry said it. Alarms went off in his brain. Only one word kept repeating itself in a loop inside his head like a broken radio. Taboo.
Harry seemed to realize what he had done because he sighed irritably and swore under his breath.
Voldemort was irritable and had been for some time, which made it fairly easy for him to lose his temper these days.
How did Regulus, the good for nothing Blood Traitor, manage to destroy four of his horcruxes in a short amount of time? How?
Someone must have helped him, Voldemort came to the realization. That someone had to be a Death Eater—one of his most trusted ones, too! How else could Regulus have gotten his hands on the diary and the cup?
Voldemort racked his head, thinking of whom from his inner circle would have the motive to do such a thing. Who would have a reason to help Regulus Black—
Taboo.
And it was Harry who said it.
From the trace, Voldemort knew that his name could have only been uttered by one person alone, so he personally saw to it that the Snatchers were made aware of his involvement, making them back down to let their leader deal with the problem personally.
Voldemort knew Harry saying his name could only mean one thing, the boy was in danger and needed help immediately. He apparated to the boy’s location immediately. Harry was in the five-star muggle hotel he liked to go to whenever he was cross at Voldemort.
He saw Harry with his arms folded in front of his chest with an unnerved air about him, almost like he hadn’t meant for Voldemort to get involved. Too late.
Having the boy within his sight had him feeling at ease. Harry was not harmed, Voldemort noticed, and a sense of relief and calmness encircled him. He hadn’t realized how stressed he’d been lately since Harry’s rude departure. His soul, the first human horcrux in history, he was with. . .
The destroyer of horcruxes. And he was within arm’s reach of another one of Voldemort’s soul vessels, only the child was more than just that.
The Dark lord narrowed his eyes at the traitor who had been a source of great bother ever since that brother of his received the dementor’s Kiss.
Harry immediately stood in front of Regulus, glaring at Voldemort defiantly.
He had no time to humor the boy, not when the man behind Harry would kill him the moment he found out what he was.
“He told me everything.” Harry said, a flash of hurt in his eyes.
Voldemort froze. What had the traitor told the boy? Did Regulus Black already know about the human horcrux? If so, why would he tell the boy about it if he was planning on killing him? The Dark lord decided not to be direct in his response, lest he accidentally said something Harry had no previous knowledge of.
“And you believe whatever that man tells you, Harry?” Voldemort rasped.
“Tell the truth, did you kill my mum and dad?!” Harry’ jaw was set resolutely, clearly already knowing the answer.
Oh. That was. . . fine. He would rather Harry never found out the truth about his parents, but he supposed it wouldn’t have been realistic for Harry to make it through his life without finding out eventually. It was a good thing Voldemort had waited for the boy to be more exact in his accusations.
A sense of relief washed over him. That’s why Harry hadn’t returned yet? It would also explain the angry letters. Well, Voldemort could easily fix that—or better yet, he could use this golden opportunity to teach Harry the valuable lesson they’ve postponed since Harry ran away.
“I did.” He answered flippantly.
Harry’s face contorted desperately. “You’re not even sorry about it!”
Voldemort cocked his head to the side. “Do I ought to be?”
The boy stammered, but then the traitor placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Voldemort’s blood boiled. He was going to torture the Black’s bad seed mercilessly once he had the issue with Harry sorted out.
Voldemort could see it plain as day, the hatred threatening to bubble up to the surface of Harry’s face. The boy’s pathetically soft nature was about to crack. It was an opening to something promising.
“You monster.” Regulus Back said lowly, but Voldemort ignored him. He was far too fascinated by Harry’s imminent rage to let Black distract him from what truly mattered.
It would be a waste to let this teachable moment pass.
“How could you.” Harry said, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t you even feel the tiniest bit of remorse?” He wanted him to. He needed Tom to at least regret what he’d done on some level. Otherwise, Harry would never feel okay about this. He could never ever forgive Tom for something he didn’t feel sorry for.
Harry needed a justifiable reason to keep loving him, but Tom was giving him nothing to work on.
“You are—y—you. . .”
“Speak. Up. Child.” Tom always detested it when Harry spoke in broken sentences.
The word felt as taunting as it could get. And Harry saw red.
“You sick bastard!” He hissed. Regulus released his hand from his shoulder and staggered back, Harry wasn’t sure why. He was too angry and hurt to give it much thought. “You ruined EVERYTHING!” He started crying. “You made me an orphan in the first place by killing innocent people all the time. People like my parents, and people like Regulus—I won’t let you kill him too. Y—you twisted monster—I HATE YOU—”
“Do not speak to me in such way.” Tom looked down at Harry fumingly.
“I hate you.” He repeated unwaveringly.
Something flashed through Tom’s face. Something incredibly dark and wrong. Tom never looked at him that way before. That kind of look was reserved for Tom’s enemies, incompetent followers—anyone but Harry.
He finally understood just how much people were afraid of Tom, and justifiably so. Tom now reminded Harry more of their first encounter in the ally, when Tom didn’t even deny to Harry that he was extremely dangerous.
Tom would never hurt me. Tom would never.
“Well,” Tom—no—Voldemort strode toward him, yanking Harry’s arm and forcing a wand to his hand.
Harry let out a cry of surprise, which Inigan would normally respond to by biting the head off whoever dared to manhandle him. But this wasn’t just anyone. This was Tom.
Voldemort commanded Inigan to hold Regulus in place, so she obliged. He forced Harry to point his wand at him. “Let us not put this hatred of yours to waste, shall we?”
“W-what?” Harry blinked, wand hand already shaking.
“You know the spell.” Red eyes glowed as they pinned Harry on the spot. “I’ve taught it to you, but you have yet to master it.”
Harry’s eyes widened like never before. Would he be expected to kill Regulus?!
“The killing curse requires immense hatred for it to work.” He backed away from Harry, a deranged look on his face as he shouted: “Go on, child, do it! If you hate me so much, then you won’t have any problem performing.”
Harry’s jaw dropped. And he stood frozen to the spot. After a long tense moment has passed, Voldemort spoke up:
“The Chosen One who is meant to destroy me, aren’t you?” He laughed that mean laugh that sounded high pitched, piercing Harry’s ears.
He’s reading my mind again. He tried to push the conversations he and Regulus had out of his mind, but what good would that do? Harry was never allowed to have his private thoughts. He wanted the peace to think as he liked without his thoughts being exploited.
“I may not be able to access your mind anymore once I’m dead, Harry!” He continued to laugh, completely diabolical. “So what’re you waiting for?”
“Are you insane?!” Harry choked.
“Would you like a morale boost? How about this, let me tell you of your pathetic Mudblood of a mother that was so filthy and weak she begged for death.”
“DON’T TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT!” Harry roared.
“And what good did her love do for you, child?” He said softly, voice mocking. “It locked you in a cupboard for six years. She’s dead, and do you know why? Because she would literally rather die!”
Harry closed his eyes. “Stop.”
“She’d rather be dead than to properly live and be a mother to you—”
“Arvada Kedavra.”
The green glow was so bright and vibrant it took Harry by surprise. But not Tom. He was the only one expecting this.
He moved out of the way before the curse was fired from Harry’s wand.
If Tom hadn’t been anticipating this, he could’ve died. Harry would have killed him.
What’ve I done?
“I’m sorry.” Harry cried. He threw his wand and kicked it away, running toward his guardian’s open arms. He crashed into Tom’s chest and wept. “I-I’m s-so sorry. I didn’t m-mean to—you just made me so angry—I. . .” He buried his face in the other’s cloths.
“So you do have it in you after all, don’t you, my child.”
His eyes welled with more tears at the endearing tone that was used. Tom sounded so sincere. It was the first time he’d said it too. Admitted out loud that Harry was his.
“Do you wish me dead?” Tom stroked his head full of hair almost affectionately.
“N-no.” His voice broke. “Never.”
That manipulative, child grooming—no regard for basic human feelings—Regulus had no word vile enough to describe the horrific scene he just witnessed.
The white snake held Regulus tightly, not allowing him much space to move, otherwise, he would have apparated himself and Harry far away from here.
The obvious emotional blackmail was sickening. Regulus wanted nothing more than to pry Voldemort’s hands off the kid’s head. How DARE he—
He was at a loss for words. He seemed to be in that state when it came to learning about the twisted kind of relationship that existed between the Dark lord and the Boy Who Lived.
Regulus was clever though. He was able to connect the dots. Why Voldemort kept Harry instead of killing him when he had many chances to do so. Regulus had suspected for days the possibility. But with everything Harry told him about Voldemort, and the fact that Voldemort himself came instead of the Snatchers when his name had been said out loud. . . yep, the boy was a horcrux. That’s the only reasonable explanation to why Harry was still alive.
Regulus let down the walls he’d built in his mind, willing Voldemort to hear his one thought: I know what you did in 1981.
Voldemort looked over Harry’s head at Regulus and smirked. He was bloody proud of it! Regulus felt sick.
When Harry seemed to calm down and Voldemort released him, still looking at him rather smugly, Regulus knew that this was it. From today on forward, he, Regulus Arcturus Black, was a dead man for sure.
Harry didn’t share the same prudent thought as Regulus. He spoke in Parseltongue to his guardian, looking over at Regulus rather bashfully.
Voldemort spoke back, also in Parseltongue, making Regulus feel lost and a tad irate. They were clearly discussing Regulus in front of him, they kept gesturing toward him—it was maddening! After a couple of minutes passed, Voldemort huffed slightly, hissing at the giant snake.
Regulus closed his eyes, bracing himself for whatever permission the snake was granted that would surely result in his death. . . only the body wrapped around him loosened spectacularly.
His inevitable fall to the ground was prevented when Voldemort closed his hand around Regulus’ throat, lifting him from the ground. Voldemort was choking Regulus himself.
He felt himself pass out before sensing him in his mind. Oh, no. He was forcing Regulus to focus on breathing so he could penetrate his mind effectively. And it worked. Regulus was distracted enough for Voldemort to find out that Severus Snape helped him get the diary and the cup.
“Did you get what you want?” Harry’s voice asked in English, he sounded so small.
“I. . . did.” Voldemort gave Regulus one final squeeze, permanently knocking all air out of him, before releasing his death grip thoroughly.
His body fell this time. Harry scurried toward him, helping him get up. “It’s gonna be okay, Reg. You’re okay.”
Voldemort didn’t look pleased at all. But he said he’d leave to settle something with one of his Death Eaters. Regulus gulped, knowing he meant Severus.
“Harry.” He looked down at the thirteen-year-old, confused. “Harry what—”
“I made a deal with him.” Harry said solemnly. “I promised him to never run away again if he, er. . .”
Regulus sighed. “That’s very noble of you, Harry, but you really shouldn’t have.” He held the boy at arm’s length, looking at him sadly. “You shouldn’t have traded your freedom for him to spare me.”
Harry stared down at his shoes guiltily. “Umm.”
“That is the deal, right?”
“Well, he wouldn’t let you off the hook that easily. He said you’re a big threat. Too dangerous to be left free.”
Regulus nodded. “So he wants to keep me prisoner?”
Harry bit his lips, avoiding looking Regulus in the eye. “I guess?”
“Harry, what did you trade your freedom for?”
Harry took a deep breath. “I told him I’d stay with him forever if I’m allowed to keep you—I—I know I should have asked for your freedom instead, I really did. It’s just—I—You were very nice to me and, and it’s so lonely the way I live. Tom never lets me have friends you see, he. . . he used t-to behead the house-elves I befriended, and. . . and.” His bottom lip quivered slightly. “It’s selfish what I did, I know. And I’ll understand if you hate me—but please don’t hate me for it. I’m sorry.”
Regulus was. . . overwhelmed to say the least. He had expected many different outcomes for when he came face to face with Voldemort. For one, he hoped it would be at a time when all horcruxes were long gone and the Dark lord was mortal for good. Had it been any different scenario, Regulus was sure his own death would be inevitable. Being kept around Voldemort through his ward was never even a possibility. Yet this was the reality of the situation.
He didn’t like how much the kid was beating himself over this when he literally saved Regulus’ life.
“Shh, it’s okay, Harry. I’ll never be mad at you.” He hugged the kid’s small frame.
Harry tensed for a moment as though he wasn’t used to receiving physical contact. From the previous display, Regulus knew the case was much more disturbing.
Harry must have spent years trying to replace the parental love he’d long lost with whatever Voldemort could offer through his approval. At the same time, Voldemort must have been using Harry’s desire to be loved as a way to manipulate him. He would have the boy deprived of being the reciprocate of affection from anyone other than the Dark lord himself. But even he didn’t give Harry enough of that. It barely scratched the surface of what a child needed. No, Voldemort gave just enough for Harry to crave more, and therefore, Harry would do anything to please his guardian—or try to.
That would have to change, Regulus thought resolutely.
Harry reluctantly returned the embrace before melting into the hug. Regulus smiled.
Such a shame, he thought, Severus was such a good servant. But it made sense, the wizard vowed to honor the muggle born he was obsessed with by protecting her son, Voldemort knew that much. It was why he entrusted Severus to be the boy’s personal tutor. Alas, he should have investigated Severus’ motives more closely, because apparently the man also vowed to avenge the boy’s mother. A double-edged sword.
It really was a shame. Such waste to the wizard’s talents—also, Voldemort would have to find Harry a new tutor.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, rather—Regulus Black was available. If he was going to stick around the Dark lord’s ward, then it might as well be worthwhile. Inigan would have to chaperone, obviously, to keep a much closer eye on Regulus Black than on Harry, which was absolutely necessary.
The only good outcome was that Voldemort no longer had to worry about Harry’s need for flight. Because once the boy expressed any desire to leave again, Voldemort would just have to kill Regulus.
Regulus couldn’t believe it, he was untouchable. He could work to destroy Voldemort’s empire from within without fearing the consequences. No one could stop him. The Death Eaters knew he’s off limits. And if Voldemort caught him red handed, the worst he’d do was torture him for a whole day, which sometimes lasted even less because of Harry. Regulus had to do his best to suppress the urge to cackle maniacally (it was impossible to escape the Black genes.)
He had been Harry’s tutor since March when Voldemort killed Severus Snape, and on some strange level, he and Voldemort had become co-parents to the Boy Who Lived.
Whenever Voldemort would try to use his manipulation tactics on Harry, Regulus was always there to jeopardize these attempts—and Voldemort couldn’t do a thing about it! Regulus did enjoy getting on the Dark lord’s very last nerve. Sure Voldemort would throw a cruciatus curse at him when he thought Harry wasn’t looking, but those barely even last a minute, and Regulus’ entire life had been a series of torture, so this was negligible.
Today was Harry’s fourteenth birthday, and Regulus thought the kid would be more excited to celebrate. He thought Harry might be feeling under the weather, but when he asked about it, he had to take a minute to breath.
“He does that on every birthday, you say? That’s awful, Harry.”
“It is?”
Regulus couldn’t help but become a little exasperated. He made sure to assure Harry that he wasn’t mad at him. Never at him. For him, however, was almost always the case. “Harry, those were your friends! And he made you watch them get murdered on your birthday!” Regulus shook his head. “It’s not right.”
“You think it’s normal to be friends with elves?” Harry peered at him hesitantly, as though he thought Regulus might make fun of him.
Regulus frowned. “There’s nothing wrong in being friends with house-elves, Harry. I was friends with my family’s house-elf.” He answered nostalgically.
“You were?” Harry stared at him in awe. “I’ve never seen any of Tom’s followers treat their elves very good—they all say making friends with them is unheard of.”
Regulus scoffed. “That’s because they’re idiots, Harry, the lot of them.”
Harry giggled before his face became unreadable. “Or maybe you and I are just weird. I always felt I was weird.”
If he could find a way to remove the trace on Harry, he’d take him to meet the rebels. Oh, how he wished he could take Harry and meet actual decent people.
“So what? Would you rather be the kind of person who likes hurting others?”
Harry shrugged. “It’d make things easier, I reckon. And Tom would stop calling me soft.”
“I thought you said he’d stopped doing that since you almost. . .”
Harry nodded. “He’s stopped saying it, sure, but I can always see it in the way he looks at me sometimes, you know?”
Needless to say, Regulus was an expert in that area.
He nodded earnestly. “I know. I went through the same thing with my parents. I’d try to do everything I can to not disappoint them, but it’s hard. My. . .”
Regulus had to stop himself and breath deeply, as he always did when the topic of his brother was brought up. For all he could think of was the last time he’d seen Sirius. The Dementor’s Kiss was something too abhorrent to witness on your worse enemy, let alone your own family.
“. . . my brother especially used to be like that, but a little before he went to Hogwarts, he started to stand up against them. And when he first became friends with your father, he stopped caring of what our parents thought of him altogether.” Regulus’ mind drifted off to a far-off past. “He found better people, better family, and started caring of what they thought instead. And he was cared for. The other family—your family that is—they’re good people. The world needs more of those. More of you.”
Harry blinked at him, a shadow of a smile could be seen of his face. “I think the world needs more of us.”
Regulus’ heart melted. He was truly grateful to be lucky enough to be in Harry’s life, but the warm feeling quickly dissolved into the coldness that the dementors hunted him with for so long. His brother’s memory was forever tainted that way.
Besides, it was supposed to be Sirius who was here with Harry, not him. It was supposed to be Harry with his real parents and family. Instead, the best Harry could get was him. And Regulus didn’t think he was exactly the best parental figure for Harry to have. I’m better than Voldemort. But that’s such a low bar!
“I’ll have a word with Tom about the treatments of house-elves.” Regulus said. “Happy birthday, Harry.”
1995
Regulus had a plan.
He could not remove the trace, but he spent the better part of the year inventing a potion that could block the trace for days at a time. He also had a lot of time to research soul magic.
It wasn’t easy, it took a lot for Regulus to convince Harry to agree to run away for good.
Regulus had managed to kill Inigan the night before. He never told Harry though, he could not risk it. But he would, someday, when Voldemort is defeated. He has to be defeated.
He brought Harry to Aberforth’s pub, where a blind Gideon Prewett was sitting alone on a booth at the time.
“Reg?! Where have you been? You’ve disappeared for an entire year—we thought you were dead!”
“I’m very much alive—”
“Giddy?” Harry had said, astonished.
“I’m sorry, who’s speaking?” Gideon turned his head to face the direction of Harry’s sound.
“Harry. We met, sort of. Er, I tired helping you and Remus escape from the dungeon when I was nine—”
“Harry Potter!” The red head had exclaimed enthusiastically.
And so had many of the other rebels and their families who had met Harry. Everyone was eager to meet him, and Harry was eager to meet everyone as well.
The Weasleys had offered to shelter Regulus and Harry with them. Harry begged Regulus to agree because he had made friends with the Weasley kid his age, Ronald.
Regulus reasoned with him that they might endanger the Weasley family if the block were to be removed from the trace before Harry had his potion. If that ever happened, Regulus wanted to be sure only his own life would be taken and no one else’s. He knew Voldemort would never kill Harry. . . or so he thought.
One night in their tent, he made sure Harry drank the potion that would block the trace before bidding him good night. He stayed awake late at night, deciding to perform the ritual that would remove the small piece of soul residing in Harry’s scar once and for all and destroy Voldemort in the process, though he kept that part away from Harry.
Just as Regulus was about to start, an owl flew, carrying a message intended for Harry.
Harry,
If I cannot have you, then I shall destroy you.
Sincerely, Tom