Chapter 7
Regulus strides forward resolutely, his back straight and his hands clenched into fists as he cuts the skin of his palm with a simple spell.
His friends shriek in alarm, but when the blood touches the stone, the entrance opens. He turns round, grinning proudly.
The three of them aren't amused, however, so Barty punches him roughly in the shoulder, muttering: "Jerk."
“Next time you do something like that, at least give us a warning," Pandora scowls, poking him in the chest.
Evan's judgemental look says it all for him. Black finds it insulting how these three have turned against him, even if it makes his chest warm to see their obvious show of concern.
“Okay, I get it," Regulus rolls his eyes and turns around to go first when three pairs of hands grab him and drag him back.
“Let us go first, all right, little star?” Pandora smiles, walking past him.
So did Barty, followed by Evan.
“Oh, come on! I was here first!” Regulus whines, and if he could roll his eyes so hard they'd fall out, he'd definitely do it, “and I'll remind you that I've been here a couple of lifetimes!”
Raised eyebrows, full of disbelief, make him irritably silent.
Finally, grumbling unhappily, he enters the cave he remembers only from scraps of memories of past loops, and his breath catches somewhere on the border between excitement and bone-chilling terror. The air here is heavier than outside, as if it seeks to suffocate every person who enters. The water in the lake is dark, wavering at the surface, attracting the eye. His throat is dry, Regulus can hardly take his eyes off the lake, but his three suns, his three sources of light, stand before him, confident and determined, shining like the brightest lantern in front of him.
They're forced to turn on the lights to try and dispel the thick darkness around them, which seems even heavier than it is outside, but the glow coming from the sticks is weaker than it should be, which definitely doesn't help with the nerves.
“So, what now, Captain?” Barty grins broadly, but Regulus knows him well enough to see the worry splashing in the depths of his eyes, "because we can't apparate here, and we can't swim…”
An uncomfortable silence hangs between them as Regulus's ears fill with his own screams.
He sighs deeply and shakes off the memories with an effort. On stiff legs he moves towards the cave wall, barely able to see anything, but his body knows what to do. He hears three pairs of footsteps behind him, not daring to back away.
Reluctantly, Regulus reaches a trembling hand forward, feels the air around him fluctuate until he feels the coldness of invisible metal in his hand.
“This is it,” he exhales disbelievingly as a wavering smile appears on his face, his heart pounding ever faster.
The four of them pull the boat in, blossoming out of the darkness of the cave in the distance, floating leisurely, glowing a pale green colour that looks nothing short of sickly.
“Now that way," he whispers, trying to make out an island in the middle of the lake, but all his eyes can catch on are streaks of green light on the water surface, barely moving near the shore.
Barty jumps into the boat first, confidently grabbing the sides as it rocks.
“Come on, Evan," the boy smirked, beckoning him over with a flick of his index finger.
Rosier straightens up and is about to jump into the boat, but stops at the last moment, frowning uncertainly.
“What's the matter, chicken out?” Barty raises his eyebrows as he rises, "Come on.”
Evan looks up at the guy in the boat and whispers: "Can't go in."
And in an instant, they all freeze, because this is not something they were prepared for, not something they were even considering.
“Come on, Evan," Barty's voice shakes in uncertainty as he reaches out a hand to his friend.
Thankfully, nothing prevents the touch, but when Crouch pulls the boy towards him, he freezes in the same spot as if he's crashing into an invisible wall.
Regulus frowns, feeling like he can't breathe, because if only one person can be on the island, he's not going to let any of them do it. He swiftly walks closer and jumps into the boat, unobstructed.
“What the hell is going on," Evan mutters.
Pandora follows, stroking the guy's shoulder with a gentle hand, but she herself can't go any further, her other palm stroking the resisting air.
“There must be a catch here.”
They take their time: climbing out of the boat, brooding.
Touching the boat, they can all do it, but they can't climb in at the same time. Pandora and Evan can climb in together, but then Regulus and Barty can't move. If Evan sits in the boat, Barty cannot sit there, just as only Evan cannot sit with Barty. Pandora and Regulus cannot be in the boat together, which makes neither of them happy.
They stand at the water's edge for an inordinately long time, desperately trying to find a way out, until Pandora shrieks sharply.
“It's about age!” She exclaims firmly, "Regulus and I are the same age, just like Evan and Barty, and that's exactly the combination that's not working!”
There is silence for a moment, while everyone thinks and accepts what the girl has said, before Evan exhales disappointedly.
“It also means that one of us is definitely staying here.”
“Fuck.”
Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.
“So,” he exhales and sees the attentive eyes on him, “two should be on the island: one drinking from the goblet, the other supporting and taking the Horcrux, preventing the first from drinking from the lake and dying. The other two stay here as support, watching the entrance and preparing to fight off the inferi if anything.”
“All right, I'm coming!” exclaims Barty as soon as Regulus is done.
“So am I!”
“And I.”
Regulus is the only one who is silent, but he smiles uncertainly.
“I should definitely be there, because I already know what's going on and what needs to be done,” he doesn't dare speak louder than a whisper, it's like ash on his tongue.
“So tell us what to do! We don't need to go through this again!” Barty growled, taking a few steps towards Regulus, "Don't be a fucking martyr.”
“Don't yell at me," Black said coldly, "I'm not trying to die or whatever you think of me, Crouch. I'm saying that not only my brain, but my body knows what to expect. I could do a better job of resisting this exorbitant thirst you don't know.”
“Fuck you if you think I'm just going to let you go through this one more time, you bastard.”
“Fuck you if you think I'm going to let any of you suffer the way I suffered.”
“Oh yeah, because if you're so used to suffering, you should always do it! Like your mother made you suffer, like your father bullied you and abandoned you Sirius, so why not die, right?”
“Is your father much better, pray tell?”
“My father at least pretends to love me, not…”
“Barty, Regulus," the girl's hands touch their shoulders, sharply pushing them away from each other, "calm down.”
A heavy mist swirls in the air around them, almost blocking their throats with its venom. A green glow streams across the floor, flaring brighter by the island in the water that seems to mock them maliciously as the dark magic gnaws into their bones.
Barty inhales and exhales once more, the fire in her eyes subsiding to a crackle. Regulus averts his gaze, pressing his lips tightly together.
“I'm not changing my mind.”
Crouch turns around sharply, ready to argue, but Pandora clenches her hand tighter on his shoulder. Evan sidles up to Barty, touching his hand with hers, squeezing gently.
“I have to go. But…”
Regulus closes his eyes, ignoring the way water bubbles in his lungs and his skin itches.
“I apologise for the harsh words.”
The venom in Barty's eyes soaks back in, leaving behind only fatigue. He sighs heavily and snorts, smiling at Regulus.
“Yeah, I'm sorry too, that was bastardly," he casts an angry glance at the island.
“It sounds logical, Barty," Evan whispers as they all fall silent so the words echo around them, "Regulus can go, but we're not leaving him alone, not this time.”
Crouch exhales noisily through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.
“I'm going with him,” he declares, looking into Evan's eyes because Pandora couldn't sit with Regulus.
Rosier only nods, smiling weakly. Barty presses her lips together and touches her forehead to his. The atmosphere between them is too intimate as they close their eyes.
Regulus decides to give them a semblance of privacy as he approaches Pandora, grabbing her hand like a drowning man.
The locket, which lies in its place on the island, presses on his very soul, as if trying to drive him as deep into the ground as possible. So that he ends up a dead man, gasping with despair. His bones cracking inside his body until only ashes remain, but even that will be blown away by the wind like a pathetic piece of evidence, as if the world cannot exist with Regulus.
Tension builds in his head, his stomach twisting into a tight knot in a way that makes him sick not only mentally but physically. He feels that he will inevitably die in this place, time after time, until death is permanent, anchoring him in the chains of inevitability, buried only with terror in his bones and traces of inferi on his skin.
“If we don't succeed..." he starts, barely audibly.
For a moment he thinks the words explode in the cave, but Evan and Barty don't turn around, so he's about to continue when Pandora interrupts him.
“Dont.”
Briefly and abruptly, so that Regulus even freezes for a moment.
“Look, Dora…”
“I said no, Regulus. You're not going to tell me any death crap because you're not going to die, do you understand me?” she hissed, clutching the boy tightly, “you're not alone in that bloody cave and you won't be alone on the island, so stop it.”
“And yet…”
“I said no, Regulus Arcturus Black!” Pandora shouts, but somewhere in the middle her voice breaks, "Just stop it already, no one is going to let you die, you idiot!”
There is no trace of the softness in the girl's eyes that was there before. Now all that splashes in her pale, lovely eyes is despair and a glint of tears. She looks on the verge of panic, wavering on a blade between anger and pain. But, contrary to that, she doesn't look at Regulus as if he were dead. She looks at him as a fool, even as her heart threatens to burst into millions of pieces that he will mercilessly walk over with his feet. And even then she will welcome it, just another moment to savour the light of her star, his glow and life.
“Is that jerk going to die again? - Barty asks cheerfully, throwing an arm over Regulus' shoulder, but you can hear the tension in his voice, "What, you don't believe in me?”
”He's an idiot," Evan said quietly, but his hand was gently on Black's shoulder.
“You just don't understand - literally anything can happen!” Regulus tries desperately, his voice breaking in his need to convince them, to speak his thoughts and feelings, perhaps one last time before the water drags him down with it. “So I'd rather say it now!”
Water bubbles in his lungs, his wrist aching with phantom pain that tears through his body, but the guy knows that if he rolls up his sleeves, he'll see clean, untouched skin.
“Reggie, little star," Pandora whispers too softly for his liking, but his heart beats in a melody of love so familiar and close beside these three.
Gently she wraps her hands around his face, caressing it as if memorising it. He doesn't seem to be the only one worried. That's not surprising, though. But it's nice to know they're worried too.
“We're not trying to belittle your feelings, but Barty will be with you, he'll protect you, and Evan and I have your backs. It's gonna be okay.”
She speaks as confidently as if she's ready to tear that "fine" out with nails and teeth, whether the opponent is God or the strongest wizard of a generation.
“Okay... okay," Regulus whispers, closing his eyes and hoping he doesn't make them regret this silence.
***
It was as if they were signing their own death warrants as they pushed away from the shore, the boat drifting further and further away until Pandora and Evan were out of sight.
“Barty..." Regulus catches his friend's sharp gaze and pats his knee weakly with his foot, "thank you.”
“Like I'd leave you alone, you bastard.”
He feels a smile spread across his face, a very faint but genuine one. At the same time, a violent shiver runs through his body, worth the boat hitting the island.
The potion sparkles, catching the faint light of the cave, shimmering over the edges of the bowl. My throat instantly dries up.
“I can do this, Regulus,” Barty says seriously and quietly, squeezing his friend's shoulder, “you don't have to suffer again.”
“I can-" he swallows, still feeling as if he's choking, "I really can…”
Barty looks at him, not believing him one bit, but says nothing as Regulus comes to his senses. His presence is steady and supportive.
As they climb out of the boat, Regulus can't help feeling as if his heart is about to jump out of his chest, but he's calmer than he was before.
“I'm watching you, you're not going to die.”
Regulus can't squeeze out a word, so he limits himself to a weak smile. With a trembling hand, he clutches the cup from which more potion pours out. The liquid touches his skin, instantly burning cold.
Regulus catches Barty's gaze that burns with confidence and determination, sighs deeply, and drinks. All the way down.
His stomach twists into a tight knot, protesting.
“It's not that bad," Barty whispers in surprise, but then his gaze catches the way the bowl fills to the brim again, "fuck.”
“Did you think it was that easy?” Regulus exhales hoarsely, unable to take his eyes off the potion, "This is just the beginning. It gets worse, you better get ready.”
“Got it," Barty said snarling, not taking his sharp eyes off him.
The potion doesn't go down any easier the second time, not at all. It only burns the whole body more, being electricity and ice, fire and ash at the same time.
“By the way, while I'm thinking,” Regulus remembers, as shadows slowly appear in sight, shrieking and angry, “at some point you're going to have to force-feed me.”
“Fuck," Barty shrieks as she comes closer, "what the fuck?”
“Yeah," Regulus whispers, but doesn't think he can hear it, "I guess I should have told you about this earlier…”
“Then I would have forgotten about it like a bad dream.”
He drinks.
At some point Barty's figure, looking at him intently but nevertheless with concern, begins to blur around the edges. He pays it no mind until an ugly grimace, caught between hatred and disgust, crosses his friend's face. Regulus swallows.
“God, second glass and you've already given up? Pathetic, really,” Barty grins.
“Fucking shut up," he growls.
He drinks, chokes, and drinks.
“I'm not saying anything?” he hears, uncertain and completely quiet. Concerned to the point of pain. It makes his heart clench.
He feels his whole body on fire, piercing his skin with sharp needles, tearing him from the inside like the cruelest torture. Laughter rumbles in his ears with a thunderous roar.
He drinks until the potion sticks in his throat, and there is nothing left but a desperate urge to vomit.
“Fuck,” he thinks, and seems to hear it outside, though he says nothing.
He doesn't drink, he knows he's no longer holding the potion in his hands, but somehow he can still taste the disgusting taste on his lips.
“Come on, Reg, come on..." an insistent whisper in his ears. It sounds like several voices at once.
He presses his lips tightly together, a tight lump in his throat, and an uncontrollable shiver runs through his body that doesn't stop for a second.
“Come on, Reg…” and it's Sirius' voice, prompting him to open his eyes sharply.
“Sirius!” he calls out desperately.
Fuck. Okay, I can deal with this. Just drink. Please.
Please.
“For me, Reggie?” And he could never resist that expression on Sirius' face. A moment before he would have resisted his mother and gently told Regulus to go away, get lost. Always the older brother. The bloody martyr.
He drinks. Even when it tears him apart, leaving his soul crumbling into ash. Even when he sobs and moans and begs.
“And after that, you wonder why I left you?” Sirius laughs, especially cruel when he asks, “One more, please, Reg…”
Regulus doesn't realise why he sounds so desperate, but it's his brother, so...
He drinks. Greedily and painfully. Desperately.
His mother's gaze pierces through his soul, tearing him to shreds without saying a word.
“Drink," she growls, "come on, drink. Now. Show me you're capable of something.”
He drinks and chokes as she continues.
“You know, I never wanted a second child, but my husband and I felt we needed a backup. A convenient one, you know?” A cold chuckle crosses her sharp face.
“Please-" Regulus whispers brokenly, the word sticking in his throat.
“And we needed a backup when Sirius escaped, but who would have thought you'd be so pathetic? Barely able to get what you died for now that you have everything to do with it.”
He sobs like a little child. Desperately reaching for the hem of her dress, whimpering pitifully.
Please drink, someone's voice sobs.
He drinks under his mother's inquisitive gaze.
Her eyes stare off into the distance, keenly searching for something... someone.
“They'll leave you.” she concludes coldly, not caring at all for the way he cries. Not caring about his feelings. Never cared.
“Come on, Mum…”
Fuck. Drink... just a little bit more, come on, Reg, just a little bit.
“Please,” barely more than the exhalation leaves him.
“Once they realise what you're like, do you think anything will make them stay? When even Sirius is gone?”
He scrapes his fingernails across his throat, a wild howl lodged deep within, nothing more than the sound of animal suffering.
He's drinking.
He sobs.
He...
“What a disappointment. It's time to die, young Black.”
A shiver, stronger than any he'd ever felt before, pulses through his body, cold sweat breaking out and his breathing hitching. He whimpers, scraping his fingernails against the cave stone.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, finish faster, bitch.
He can't speak anymore. He opens his mouth and...
He drinks.
He chokes.
Coughs, feels a shard of memory of Kreacher nearby when he hears a soft and broken, "Fuck, fuck, sorry, Reg, come on."
He drinks.
At some point the potion stops filling his throat and the evil figures remain just on the edge of his vision, looming vaguely over him. All Regulus had left was....
A desperate thirst.
Fucking finally!
He hears a sharp but satisfied shriek, but it sounds like tinnitus as the water bobbles before his eyes, glistening a soft, inviting green colour.
His throat spins and he crawls, though he can't remember when he fell.
Rises to all fours and lunges forward, desperate, wildly... thirsty.
And his breath abruptly leaves him when two hands grab him roughly, gripping his chest.
“No, no, no, no, no fucking way!” growls in his ear, hot breath blowing against his skin, we're going back to the boat. Both of us.
“Please," was the only word that escaped his lips, filled with nothing but abject despair, "please-”
Whoever it is is cruel to a drowning man's pleas, not loosening his grip even once.
A boat appears in sight, surrounded by water and a pathetic sob leaves him.
“Don't you dare.”
He whimpers as he rests his back against someone's chest.
The waves sway around them as the boat sails on, moving away from the island.
He wastes time, swallowing, but the potion doesn't fill his mouth.
He thinks he's dying.
“No, you're not fucking dying.”
It sounds like he said it out loud.
He's-
“Reggie!”
“Regulus!”
Two voices, loud and concerned, deafen him, somehow warming his shredded soul.
He whimpers.
“Barty?” Passes a conversation over his head that he can only vaguely understand.
He remembers Barty.
He also remembers the thirst. Feels it. Barty is not so important when his throat cleaves in a desperate need for water that will never be fulfilled, though so close. The lake shimmers with green light, calling to him, lulling him, and his whole body longs for it, only to be stopped.
“...from here...badly.”
He sobs as his throat constricts. He's thirsty.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”
He loses time and regains it as the cold wind bites the skin of his face.
He comes alive when his throat is filled with cool, welcome and wonderful water. He sobs and drinks, drinks, drinks. He chokes and keeps drinking, grabbing the bottle with greedy hands.
“Easy, easy, calm down, drink, Reggie, drink.”
And he drinks, until gradually the sound of the wind, the sound of the waves hitting the rocks and the whispering voices of his family, his favourite and living voices come to his ears.
“All right, now?” Evan.
“Do you think I'm fucking know?” Barty, growling and very concerned.
“Quiet, you two!” Pandora.
Reluctantly he opens his eyes and waits for them to adjust to his surroundings, the soft light of the moon. Then he shifts his gaze to his family.
“Hey," he mutters, blinking slowly.
“Regulus!” Barty is the very first to bark and immediately lunges at him, smothering him in a hug, "Idiot! Just an imbecile! I fucking hate you with all my soul, you bastard! You asshole! Cocksucker!”
“Could be translated as..." Evan begins in a gentle voice.
“I was worried and I'm actually glad you survived, I love you, Regulus," Pandora continues in a laughing voice, though she has tears in her eyes.
Regulus smiles and hugs Barty back tightly.
“Thank you for being with me," he whispers into his ear.
“You're welcome, you idiot," Crouch mumbles, on the verge of tears.
***
Minutes, maybe hours, after the cave, Regulus spends like a blur, barely able to think, eyes blinking slowly, everything blurred around him. He sighs tiredly, leaning against someone's shoulder as a gentle hand supports him.
“Come on, Reg, just a little and we'll stop," a sweet voice whispers, like a warm blanket covering him.
He struggles to shift his feet, stumbling and muttering indistinctly, listening to the soft laughter overhead as he is caught by the steady hands.
“Got you, star," and it almost puts him to sleep.
After what seems like days of travelling, he is gently lowered onto the soft grass, resting his head in someone's lap.
“You can rest now," and hands launch themselves into his hair, running them through his fingers, "sleep, love.”
Regulus sleeps and in his sleep he is snuggled into an embrace full of love, his chest fills with warmth, and in his head, for the first time in a long time sounds not cruel laughter, but soft lulls, like a tidal wave covering him with tenderness.
And the memories patiently fall into place, clicking like a jigsaw puzzle.
And his mind recovers, surrounded by support and care, like warm milk and sweet biscuits, medicine for a wounded soul.
He is not whole, far from mended, but the cruel laughter of the Dark Lord recedes further and further into consciousness until only a whisper remains, quickly overridden by native voices.
The memories are shaky, tentative and timid in new (former?) places, but he remembers.
And it feels impossibly sweet.
***
“Horcrux!” he bellowed, as he regained full consciousness and realised the past events, fixing them in his mind, “where…”
“Easy, star," Evan comes into view, raising his hands, "breathe, we've got it all in hand.”
“Literally," Barty growls, grinning wide, full of sharp fangs.
In his hands, like a light to a moth, like the apple of his eye, hangs Salazar Slytherin's medallion on a chain. The cherished Horcrux for which Regulus has died several times. It's not the first time he's seen it, but his breath never falters in his chest.
“Give it to me, fucking give it to me..." he whispers desperately, holding out his arms like a drowning man.
He doesn't know if he's doing it because he doesn't want such dark and vile magic touching his brother (and the past he would have shuddered at giving that status to anyone other than Sirius, but Barty, Evan and Pandora are like family to him, closer than blood family, so he thinks it's fair to call them that... especially after what they've been through together) or because he wants to make sure what happened is real.
Barty obediently hands the locket to Regulus, who immediately clutches it tightly.
“It's just a matter of figuring out how to destroy it," he whispers, though he knows the task ahead is no easier than getting the Horcrux itself.
“You don't know?” Evan asks uncertainly.
And Regulus has to shake his head pitifully in denial.
“I haven't figured it out myself. Maybe it became clearer after I died, but-" He shrugs, as if to say that he doesn't know anymore.
But a shiver runs through his three friends at the mention of past loops.
“Well, this will be the final life," Barty says firmly, "you won't die again.”
And Regulus would like to believe him, but the image of the snake on the locket seems to mock him.
There is an unpleasant tightening in his chest, and he sees the outline of the Dark Lord standing over him with his wand in his hand and lightning deep in his cold eyes.
***
They don't go back to Hogwarts or its surroundings. They try not to even appear in people's sight, so as not to attract anyone's attention.
Instead, they return to the village, where they are greeted as warmly as before. One thing stands out: the family that has taken them in looks uncertain. Miriam's smile is trembling, uncertain and fearful. Henry's eyes turn to the hidden cave entrance in childlike bewilderment.
Miriam stares at them as if they are ghosts, all pale and frozen.
“You've come back..." she whispers, looking back panic-stricken, "you've come back from there.”
They frown, not understanding.
The woman shakes her head and hastily disappears into the house, slamming the door. Her husband's statues look like blocks of ice at the bottom of their bags.
“Henry, what's wrong with those places?”
The boy frowns, looking around uncertainly when asked this question.
“Mum always said it was unclean there. There's an evil spirit that dwells there that steals boys like me!”
The Slytherin and Claw look over at each other: a common children's tale? Then why was Miriam herself frightened?
“Henry, didn't Daddy tell you anything about those places?” Pandora asks softly, her voice almost lulling him to sleep.
It's not hard to guess - he did, but the boy presses his lips together with a determined look and shakes his head.
“Just help us understand, darling, I promise we won't tell anyone, but-" Dora looks away, tears shimmering in her eyes.
Never again will any of them dare to doubt the girl who masterfully plays the part of the frightened and uncertain.
“Henry, this is so important to us…”
The boy hesitates, but, giving him his due, remains silent.
“Papa said something..." he whispers fearfully, before straightening up resolutely, "but until he approves of you, I won't say a word! Not a word!”
“Henry..." Evan mutters irritably.
“No! I won't!” he yells, "I won't say a word!”
And he runs away, hiding in the house.
***
They spend their time in the other houses recovering.
The locket is securely wrapped in a thick cloth, surrounded by a tonne of protective spells on top so that it doesn't affect them as much as it did in the cave.
Free hours, unoccupied with helping the villagers, the foursome spends trying to get rid of the Horcrux with every spell they can, but with not even books, they don't get very far.
On one such day, Evan hesitates uncertainly, a barely formed spell dancing on the tip of his tongue.
“What if..." he whispers, turning back to his friends, "we destroy the Horcrux and the Dark Lord senses it? There must be a part of his soul in there that we destroy.”
And they freeze, gingerly looking at the glittering locket lying innocently before them.
And they stop.
Just so they don't screw up.
They have one shot.
They'll make it work. The loop will break here.
***
Sitting in a circle, they ponder.
Would the destruction of the Horcrux be felt by the Lord? Would they be willing to fight him in such a case? (Answer: definitely not.)
And in that case, they need allies. Strong ones. One of which would most likely be Dumbledore (the four of them shudder, writhing, but there's nothing to be done).
Just as they plan to start packing to return to Hogwarts and ask for the Headmaster's help, they are approached by a man about whom to say he looks bad would be an understatement.
Undoubtedly he was once handsome, however, all that is visible about him now is a face adorned with many scars, drained and tragic. He walks slowly, with the aid of a cane, but despite this, his eyes are blue and piercing, shining with wisdom.
“Hello, travellers," he wheezes, stopping a short distance away, "sorry for not introducing myself sooner: Finley Gorn, Henry's father, Miriam's husband. And a part-time wizard.”
For a moment the whole world seems to stand still before the sharp four draw their wands, aiming them at the man, though he doesn't look like he'll be hard to defeat.
“I understand your mistrust,” he says with a chuckle, exhaling tiredly, “but I assure you I am on your side.”
“That's what we believed! What do you want?” Barty growls, glaring.
“Honestly, nothing. I'm afraid I can't even hold a wand, so I'm no threat to you at all.”
“Those statuettes you handed us, what do they do?” Dora asks, clutching the rucksacks containing the said statuettes.
“Nothing more than an amulet. Quite a bit of good luck magic I was able to make,” the old man smiles, “nothing malicious. Please, come with me into the house.”
They refuse, standing resolutely still. If fighting, it's in the open, though from the outside it probably seems like an utterly stupid situation. On the other hand, Dumbledore doesn't look like a great wizard either.
“I see," Finley sighed, still hunched over, "then let me say that I support your desire to overthrow the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And if I had the power, I would go into that cave myself, which reeks of dark magic, but-"
He raises his hand and shows how much it's shaking.
“I could hardly do anything, the wand's not really in my hand these days..." Gorn sighed, "but you... you not only went into that cave, you came out of it. Safe and unhurt.”
“And we don't need you in that case," Regulus raises his head defiantly, "we've managed admirably on our own.”
“Oh you young people underestimate me," the old man smiled, and they looked up, "I can't use magic, but research has always been my forte, and you could certainly use my help here. So, please come and visit. Again.”
With a sigh that combines sorrow and despair at the situation, the four put away their wands and, full of tension, follow the old man.
“I have only one request,' Gorn whispers, “don't let this lovely village full of Muggles realise the danger that surrounds them. Only my family knows what's going on at those cliffs, and even they don't understand it, not completely.”
***
After that, everything changes and nothing at the same time.
Contrary to previous plans, they postpone their visit to Hogwarts and stay in the village, spending most of their free time surrounded by Gorn and his family.
Henry meanders in the background, whining about how bored he is, but Miriam always picks up her son soon enough, casting leering glances at her husband.
“I promised I'd quit magic,” he sighs, shaking his head lamentably, “and I did. But how can I leave youngsters like you alone, with no help at all?”
Finley turns out to have a surprisingly large number of books that have clearly been passed down through the generations, shabby and pencil-marked in places, but not a word about Horcruxes.
The four read as much as they can, but dare not move far away from each other, having only recently had a dangerous adventure, so now securely glued to each other.
Barty has gradually shifted off the couch and onto the carpet, lying on it with his back but throwing his legs up, secure in Evan's grip, not planning to leave his seat. Pandora sits with her legs hanging off the armrest, resting her back on Rosier's body, who only sighs tiredly, not taking his eyes off his reading. Regulus sits on the carpet, resting his head on Evan's knee while one of Pandora's hands runs through his hair and Barty's side rests firmly against his leg.
Only brief mentions of Horcruxes slip into their books, but nothing useful enough: dark magic, horrible, dirty, people losing themselves in it, but nothing about destruction.
From time to time they hear Finley's mutterings, desperately turning pages, but even those are of no use.
“Yeah... light magic won't help here, not at all... of course, what nonsense. Only dark... perhaps very much to match the human soul... yes, it seems true... but do I have that? Think. Think…”
Pandora approaches Gorn to pick up another book from the stack, only to abruptly freeze in disbelief.
“Finley... What is it?: She whispers fearfully.
The Slytherin turns around, having to move closer to see what has the girl so startled.
In the commotion, Gorn didn't notice the long sleeves of his shirt rolled up, gathering at the elbow, revealing the skin of his wrist, where, viciously colourful, is the Dark Mark.