Mortal Once More

January, 1983 - Hogwarts Castle

“He’s… what? ” Remus asks, staring at Regulus as though praying he’d misheard him. 

“I said,” Regulus repeats, taking a deep breath to try and calm the frantic, panicked pounding of his heart, “he’s dead, Remus. Alfie Thomas is dead.” 

“But…no,” Remus says quietly. “No, he…he can’t be…”

He stares down at the dark-skinned boy on the ground between them, the boy who had always been so full of laughter and noise and cheek and charm in classes, who had always miraculously seemed to know the answer to every question when called upon, even when it appeared he hadn’t been listening to a word the teacher had said. 

Yet now, Alfie is completely frozen, his eyes wide open and glassy, reflecting the candlelight. There’s not a spark of life left in him. 

“He is,” Regulus answers. His throat seems to have clogged up with fear and horror and guilt , the awful crawling realisation that they hadn’t found answers in time to save this boy’s life. His voice sounds harsher than he had intended it to. “You can check for yourself, if you don’t believe me.” 

Remus blinks at him. He reaches out a shaking hand, placing it over the boy’s heart, as Regulus had done a moment ago. He holds it there for a beat, squeezing his eyes tight shut; but when he looks up again, there’s a dull hopelessness in his hazel eyes that Regulus has never seen there before. 

“Fuck,” the scarred man breathes. “Fuck.” 

Regulus can hear raw pain in his voice, as well as the guilt - he remembers, suddenly, that Alfie Thomas had been one of the students that he’d seen waiting outside Remus’s office on numerous occasions, eagerly waiting for a chance to confide in him. 

“I know,” Regulus murmurs. 

Remus stares down at Alfie again, as though he’s still trying to force his brain to process the evidence. 

“How….how are we going to break the news to Meggie Brown?” he asks, his voice shaking slightly. “Once she’s been given the Restorative Draught, I mean?”

Regulus frowns, trying to follow this train of thought. 

“Why Meggie in particular?” he asks, confused. 

Remus looks up at him, as though surprised he even had to ask.

“They’re dating, Reg. Or…they were dating, anyway. Those two were head over heels for each other. Reminded me a bit of Lily and Prongs, when they were in seventh year. In fact, I bet that’s why Alfie was walking around after curfew in the first place - probably trying to sneak over to the hospital wing to visit her.” 

His eyes are shining with tears; he blinks them away hastily. 

“Oh,” says Regulus quietly. 

He looks down at Alfie Thomas’s glassy-eyed stare again. He feels winded. 

At that moment, a sudden loud thump behind them makes them both jump, instinctively scrambling for their wands - but the source of the noise, it turns out, was Minerva McGonagall, dropping an enormous pile of books and parchment in shock as she walked across the macabre scene. 

“Oh my goodness,” she says faintly, a hand clutched tightly against her chest, looking as pale and sick as she had done when she had seen Mrs Norris hanging from the torch bracket. “Mr Thomas…”

She turns to Remus - she’s still none too keen on Regulus, which he supposes is fair enough.

“Another attack, I take it?” she whispers. 

“Yes,” he replies, his voice choked. “Except it seems that Alfie isn’t Petrified. He…he’s dead.” 

McGonagall staggers slightly. 

“ Dead” she echoes, her eyes wide and horrified behind her square spectacles. “But… how? How do you know?” 

He looks desperately to Regulus for help. 

“Well, it’s…it’s a bit of a long story,” he replies, stumbling over his words slightly. “We were just on our way up to talk to Dumbledore, when…when we found…”

He gestures helplessly at Alfie’s body.

“You can come up with us, so we can talk to both of you, Professor,” he adds. “Only, you might want to…to put him somewhere, first…Merlin knows what sort of panic there’ll be if…”

He trails off as McGonagall stares down at the body of the boy who had once been one of her loudest, most chaotic and joyful students. Her hands shaking, she takes out a handkerchief. 

“I shall take Mr Thomas up to my office first. I must…” her voice breaks. “I must ensure that no further harm can come to him.” 

Regulus would have pointed out that it would be pretty difficult for Alfie Thomas to come to any more harm; but he can hear the strain of guilt in her voice. He understands that Minerva McGonagall, too, is feeling that bitter sting of regret and failure - however illogical it may be, she too is berating herself for not doing enough to protect the students in her care.

He nods. McGonagall draws her wand with a shaking hand, banishing the books and papers she had dropped on the floor, which promptly zoom away in the direction of her office. Once they’ve vanished, she casts a silent levitation charm, causing poor Alfie Thomas to rise up off the floor. She keeps her wand held out, so that the boy hovers in front of her as she makes her way to her office, still using her handkerchief to dab at her eyes with her free hand. 

Still feeling very shaky, Regulus turns to Remus, who takes his own wand out and mutters something under his breath. A huge silver wolf bursts from his wand and soars away through the nearest window. 

“What are you -?”

“There’s a bloody great basilisk slithering around the place, remember?” Remus answers, glaring at him. “I was just telling our boyfriends not to bloody come up to the castle. ”

Regulus feels a wave of gratitude for a moment - he doesn’t want Sirius and Fabian anywhere near this place right now.

“Wait,” he says, blushing slightly as he processes what the other man had said. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

Remus just raises one eyebrow at him. Regulus sighs.

“Fine. Whatever. Thank you. For protecting them.” 

“You’re welcome, idiot,” Remus responds dryly. “And as a matter of fact, I’m not too keen on hanging around these corridors either - so how about we hurry up and go to Dumbledore?” 

The pair of them practically sprint up to Dumbledore’s office, both still glancing around fearfully, narrowing their eyes. Regulus can feel his heart pounding frantically against his ribcage; the basilisk had just slithered out of the shadows, killing a student. Who knew where it might be now? Where had it even come from in the first place? 

Remus - as usual slightly ahead of him with his long gangly legs - gasps out the password, causing the stern-looking stone gryphon to spring to life. They jump onto the revolving staircase, which carries them smoothly upwards. Regulus hammers on the wooden door, hard - by the time that familiar calm voice calls “Enter,” they’ve already pushed it open and flung themselves over the threshold into the circular office. 

“Ah - good evening, gentlemen,” the headmaster greets them, looking only mildly surprised at the sight of them, and their unceremonious entrance. “To what do I owe this surprise visit?” 

“There’s been another attack,” Regulus says bluntly - to hell with the old man’s niceties. “Alfie Thomas, from Gryffindor. Only he’s not Petrified - he’s dead, Dumbledore.” 

The headmaster gives him an uncharacteristically sharp look over those half-moon spectacles, turning visibly paler. 

“Dead?” he repeats. “Are you certain he has not been Petrified, Regulus?” 

“ Yes,” he answers, barely containing a growl of frustration at this point. 

“Regulus discovered what creature has been causing the attacks,” Remus explains, sounding only marginally politer. “It’s a basilisk. We just spoke to Hagrid and he told us his roosters are being killed, and we’ve seen spiders scurrying in swarms out of the castle, because they can sense this giant bloody snake slithering around the place. Mrs Norris and Meggie Brown were Petrified and not killed because neither of them saw the basilisk directly; the cat saw its reflection because the corridor was flooded on Halloween, and Meggie saw the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick. That’s why he seemed burnt - because he looked directly at it. But when we found Alfie just now” - his voice trembles and cracks, but he pushes through - “there wasn’t anything in the vicinity that would have given him a chance to see the basilisk indirectly. His heart has stopped. He must have looked straight at it, just like Nick did. Just like Myrtle Warren did, forty years ago. That’s why he’s…why he’s dead.” 

Impatiently, Remus reaches up to scrub at his eyes, without looking away from the headmaster. 

Dumbledore continues to gaze at the pair of them. For once in his life, it seems that the old man has been temporarily struck speechless.

“I see,” he says finally. “So -  there is a Parselmouth somewhere in the school controlling the basilisk, I take it?”

“Well, that would be the most logical assumption, yes,” Regulus answers dryly.

“And?” the headmaster asks pointedly. The other two look at him blankly. “Did the two of you manage to uncover, with your formidable detective skills, who it is that has been controlling the basilisk and attacking my students?” Dumbledore clarifies, with an edge of urgent impatience in his voice. “Or did you perhaps discover how such a creature has been moving around Hogwarts without anyone detecting it, other than its three unfortunate victims?” 

Regulus glances over at Remus, and sees his own guilt and grief mirrored on the scarred face of his friend.

“No,” he admits, feeling the sharp sting of failure as he turns back to Dumbledore. “We…we haven’t managed to get that far yet.”

“I see,” says the headmaster, looking gravely disappointed. “So, in short - we know what monster is stalking the school, but we do not, at present, know who is responsible for unleashing it, or how to stop them?” 

Regulus nods, staring down at his knees. 

Strange…usually, Dumbledore just causes him to feel constantly frustrated, inspiring an occasional urge to strangle him. But right at this moment, all he seems to feel as Dumbledore fixes the two of them with that piercing gaze is an overwhelming, burning, clawing sense of shame in the pit of his stomach. No matter what Remus had said to him before…they have failed. They’ve certainly failed Alfie Thomas. 

“Well then,” says the headmaster, breaking the unbearable silence blanketing the office. Finally, Regulus dares to look up at the old man again. He looks more exhausted than he’s ever seen him. He looks as though, for once, he is actually feeling his age. “We shall have to start making poor Alfie Thomas’s funeral arrangements, it seems - his parents will have to be notified as soon as possible, of course. There is still a chance that we may be able to prevent the news from spreading too widely…but I am afraid that, unless the culprit is caught and stopped very soon, Hogwarts may well be forced to…” 

But before Dumbledore can finish his sentence, the door behind them bangs open again abruptly. 

For one insane moment, Regulus feels his heart lift slightly at the sight of two of his favourite people in the world (not that he would ever admit that to either of them, of course). But a moment later, his heart plummets again as the panic catches up to him.

“For fuck’s sake !” Remus yells, standing up and glaring fiercely at the pair of them - although Regulus could have sworn he had caught a glimpse of relief in the other man’s hazel eyes, too, just for half a moment. “I thought I told you two idiots not to come up to the castle! I thought I said it was too dangerous right now!” 

“Well, yeah,” Sirius replies, apparently utterly unfazed by his boyfriend’s fury. “That’s exactly why we came up to the castle, Moony. Obviously.” 

“Yep,” Fabian agrees, gazing at Regulus even while conversing with Remus. “Honestly, Remus, what did you expect?” 

Regulus lets out a shaky laugh.

“Probably should have seen that one coming, yeah,” he mutters to Remus - or at least, to the empty space beside him where Remus had just been standing. Despite his furious glare, the scarred man has already strode over and flung his arms tightly around Regulus’s brother. 

“I could strangle you, you know,” he distinctly hears Remus mutter, even as he presses his face into Sirius’s hair. 

“So business as usual, then?” Sirius murmurs back, winding his arms tightly around his boyfriend in return. 

Fabian chuckles quietly, catching Regulus’s eye and grinning at him. 

Despite himself, Regulus feels a sense of warmth curling out from his chest, spreading all the way to his fingertips, almost like sinking into a hot bath at the end of a long, cold and difficult day. He smiles back at Fabian for a moment, without really meaning to; having been avoiding him for weeks now, he had almost forgotten the taller man’s uncanny ability to make him feel calmer, even when the situation is, realistically, just as awful as it ever has been. It makes no sense. And yet. 

“Well?” Sirius asks, finally disentangling himself from Remus - apart from their still-entwined hands - and pointedly looking at Dumbledore rather than Regulus. “Anyone gonna tell us why exactly we’re not allowed to be here?” 

“Possibly because there’s a bloody great basilisk roaming around the castle, Sirius,” Regulus answers bluntly . “And it just killed a student. Not two hours ago.” 

The office goes completely silent at that, the grins fading from both Sirius and Fabian’s faces immediately. 

“A… what?” Sirius asks, finally looking at Regulus, those grey eyes, so like his own, wide with horror. “A basilisk?” 

“Yep.” 

“You mean…a giant snake that can kill people just by looking at them…?” Fabian asks faintly, freckles standing out more starkly than ever against his pale skin. 

“Got it in one,” Remus replies grimly. 

The other two just goggle at them for a moment, as though desperately hoping somebody is going to burst out laughing and announce that it was only a joke. 

“But…but how do you know?” Sirius whispers, glancing anxiously back and forth between his boyfriend and his brother. 

“Well, to cut a long story short,” Regulus replies brusquely, “basilisks are one of the only magical creatures that can not only kill with a direct stare, but Petrify by looking at a victim indirectly. Filch’s cat saw its reflection because the corridor was flooded the night of the Halloween feast, and Meggie Brown caught a glimpse of it through Nearly Headless Nick. But I didn’t put all the clues together until Hagrid told us someone has been killing his roosters. The cry of a rooster is one of the only ways to kill a basilisk.”

“So…so there’s some maniac somewhere in this castle, killing Hagrid’s roosters just to ensure that the basilisk has a clear path?” Fabian whispers, looking nauseous. 

“Yes,” Regulus replies, finding suddenly that he can’t look at him, for fear of seeing judgement in those beautiful blue eyes. “Unfortunately, whoever they are, they managed to get to Alfie Thomas before we could get to them.”

“Whoever they are…?” Sirius echoes, staring between Remus, Regulus and Dumbledore now. “I’m sorry - are you telling me that you know there’s a bloody basilisk slithering around this place right at this very moment, but you still haven’t managed to figure out who’s controlling the damn thing?!”

“No,” Regulus mutters, avoiding both his and Fabian’s gaze now. “We haven’t worked that bit out yet. Although we’re fairly certain they must be a Parselmouth.”

“Oh, excellent detective skills there, Reg!” Sirius shouts at him, his tone a strange combination of panic and blistering sarcasm. “No wonder you were hired to pass your bountiful wisdom on to all these students!”

“Sirius…” Fabian and Remus say simultaneously, in exactly the same warning tone. Sirius ignores them both. 

“I mean, call me crazy, but figuring out who it is that’s happily steering a bloody great basilisk around Hogwarts seems like pretty crucial information to me, wouldn’t you -”

He stops speaking abruptly, as the fire in the grate suddenly spits and hisses loudly behind them. They all turn simultaneously to look at Dumbledore’s fireplace, Regulus’s heart pounding violently in his chest as the flames suddenly leap higher, turning from scarlet to emerald green. But nobody steps out of the fireplace to join them in Dumbledore’s office. Instead, a familiar face begins to take shape in the green flames. 

Lucius Malfoy’s face. 

“Ah,” says Malfoy in that cold, drawling voice, looking up at them all. “I see you have quite the crowd in here this evening, Dumbledore.” 

“Good evening, Lucius,” the headmaster responds, betraying barely a flicker of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“What the hell are you doing here, you bastard?” Sirius growls.

“You know, you really ought to learn to control that temper of yours, Black,” Malfoy tuts, his lip curling in a smirk. “Otherwise you may find that it gets the better of you, one of these days.” 

He glances over at Regulus with a smirk; evidently, he’s expected to appreciate this jab.

“I believe Sirius’s question still stands, though, Malfoy,” says Remus coolly, with one hand on his boyfriend’s arm to hold him back. “What are you doing here? Was there something you wanted to say?”

“Well, Lupin, I must admit that it was Dumbledore I was rather hoping to speak with, rather than you and dear Sirius,” Lucius responds smoothly. “But no matter, if you wish to stay and listen to our conversation. In fact, I suppose it does pertain to you too - after all, I would think that, as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, it is in your job description to, ah…defend your students from the Dark Arts? Perhaps the Hogwarts headmaster is not the only one who has failed in his duties, then.”

Regulus feels his stomach plummet through the floor. Remus stares at Lucius, his face ashen.

“What do you…?”

“Mysterious attacks happening in the castle?” Lucius says pointedly. “Three attacks, at last count, since October. The Squib’s cat and a Muggleborn student mysteriously Petrified, apparently, and ominous messages written on the wall…and now it seems that another poor dear Muggleborn student has actually died .” 

Regulus feels ice creeping through his veins, exchanging a horrified look with Remus. 

“Dear me,” Malfoy tuts, trying and failing to look grave. “It’s not a very good look, in a school run by a man who insists on championing the rights of Squibs and Muggleborns so very loudly , is it? Or perhaps you already know perfectly well how it might look from an outside perspective - say, the Ministry’s - and that’s why you have been trying so hard to keep it all hushed up, Dumbledore? Although it does seem as though the whole business isn’t quite as hushed up as you might have hoped, doesn’t it?” 

His smirk widens, even as the headmaster looks at him steadily over his half-moon spectacles without betraying the slightest flicker of panic. 

For his part, Regulus can only hope that he’s as successful as Dumbledore in keeping his own expression neutral, because he can feel the fear rising up inside him like freezing cold water, stealing over his lungs, his throat, so that he can hardly breathe. 

Lucius Malfoy must know exactly who the culprit is. He must have heard about the plan from the Dark Lord - how else could he know all the details already? 

“It seems that your sources are as reliable as ever, Lucius,” the headmaster says pleasantly. “Am I to take it, then, that you have already informed the Ministry of our predicament here at Hogwarts?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Dumbledore,” Malfoy replies, looking thoroughly self-satisfied; if Regulus wasn’t feeling cold with dread, he might be tempted to follow Arthur Weasley’s example and punch the man in the face. “I haven’t actually informed anybody at the Ministry, or at the Prophet… yet. But then again… something certainly has to be done, doesn’t it? Correct me if I’m wrong, of course, but it was poor lumbering Hagrid who was found guilty of opening the Chamber forty years ago, was it not? As I understand it, the attacks back then stopped the moment that he was expelled. It was you who wangled him the position of gamekeeper so he could stay at Hogwarts, wasn’t it, Dumbledore?”

Dumbledore inclines his head slightly in answer. 

“Well,” the blond man continues silkily, “as history seems to be repeating itself at present, it seems that perhaps it would have been better if Hagrid had been completely removed from Hogwarts grounds all those years ago, doesn’t it? You know, perhaps I shall have to inform the Ministry after all. Perhaps the problems here would be swiftly cleared up if, say, Hagrid were to spend a little stint in Azkaban?”

For a moment, nothing but stunned silence greets these words. But then -

“You bastard,” Sirius snarls, his hands curled into fists - Remus, knowing his boyfriend all too well, tightens his grip on his arm, before he can attempt to pull Malfoy by his hair out of the fireplace. “You utter bastard. You know perfectly bloody well that none of this has anything to do with Hagrid.” 

“Sirius, I am afraid I must ask you to calm yourself,” says Dumbledore suddenly, giving him one swift, piercing glance. Sirius scowls, still looking at Malfoy with disgust etched into his face. 

“You know, Dumbledore, uncouth as Black may be” - “I’ll give you fucking uncouth,” Sirius mutters furiously, and Remus brings up his other hand so that he’s gripping him tightly by both arms, but Lucius continues smoothly as though he hadn’t heard him - “perhaps he is right.” 

That shocks them all into silence again. Malfoy’s smirk widens. 

“Perhaps it isn’t fair of me to blame that poor oaf. Perhaps the problem here lies more with a headmaster who has lost his touch. Albus Dumbledore, the famous defeater of Grindelwald!” The headmaster’s face twitches very slightly at that, but he makes no other response, merely watching Lucius warily. “Albus Dumbledore, vaunted champion and defender of Squibs and Muggleborns, the rallying point for all those who stand in opposition to He Who Must Not Be Named! And yet, it appears that these days, you are unable even to protect your own students, much less the wizarding world.” 

This time, Sirius and Remus both let out a simultaneous snarl - but Dumbledore simply bows his head. 

“A perfectly sound observation, Lucius,” he says heavily.

“What?!” Sirius exclaims. The headmaster shoots him a swift warning look over his half-moon spectacles, and he reluctantly falls silent again.

“So, we are in agreement?” Malfoy asks. 

“Very rarely,” Dumbledore replies mildly, “but on that particular point, at least.” 

“Well then,” Malfoy answers, sounding ridiculously self-satisfied. “It seems to me that the choice is yours, Dumbledore. You can step aside, quietly, and leave Hogwarts in the hands of somebody more capable - in which case I shall, of course, trust that your replacement will be able to gain better control of the situation, without my input. Perhaps you could even take the oaf Hagrid away with you, put him somewhere where he might not cause so much damage? You could also choose to ignore my advice, of course - far be it from me to dictate terms to the great and noble Albus Dumbledore,” he sneers. 

The headmaster just gazes at him steadily, his face completely expressionless. As usual, Regulus muses, it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking.

“Then again,” Malfoy continues, cold grey eyes glittering with malice, evidently relishing his own words, “I am very well placed to hear about the goings on in the castle - as I am sure you have already worked out for yourself, sharp as you are. And if it appears that you have chosen to ignore my friendly advice…I am afraid that, in that case, my conscience may force me to inform a superior at the Ministry, who would very likely be inclined to take swift, drastic action against poor dear Hagrid. Besides which, I need hardly add, the Ministry - not to mention the Prophet , once they get wind of all this - would be very curious as to why you had chosen not to inform them of the attacks yourself. But, as I say - the choice is entirely yours, Dumbledore. Good evening to you all.” 

And, with one final smirk, Lucius Malfoy’s head vanishes from the green flames with a small pop , leaving only a taut, horrified silence. 

“So everyone in the Dark Lord’s circle was told this was going to happen,” says Regulus quietly. “Everyone except for me. Pretty definitely a trap, then.” 

“Yep,” Remus agrees grimly. “Looks like that, doesn’t it?” 

Regulus lets out a choked sound resembling a hollow laugh, even though nothing is remotely funny right now. He had thought that saying it aloud might make him feel better, somehow, might do something to lessen the awful, heavy weight of fear sitting leaden in the pit of his stomach. But no. Apparently not. 

Fabian makes a small sound, almost like a whimper.

Regulus looks up at him, surprised - he’s never heard Fabian Prewett make a sound quite like that, even in the depths of his grief over his brother. As he locks eyes with him, Regulus sees his own terror reflected in the taller man’s bright blue eyes, and something new seems to shatter inside him. This man is so bright, so vivid and joyful and warm. It feels profoundly wrong , seeing such fear in Fabian’s eyes. For a moment, it almost makes him forget his own fear, and he’s nearly overwhelmed with the ridiculous urge to stride over and wrap his arms tightly around the taller man, to bury his face in the crook of his neck and murmur to him that it will be fine, that everything is going to be alright. But that would be a lie, of course. And Fabian Prewett may be many things, but he certainly isn’t stupid. He would know it was a lie, as well as Regulus knows it. 

He swallows, forcing himself to look away, willing himself to focus, try and think clearly through the panic. 

Why would the Dark Lord have ordered Malfoy to push Dumbledore out of Hogwarts? To ensure that the culprit inside the castle, whoever they are, has a clearer path for their reign of destruction? To make it easier for the Dark Lord himself to get at the headmaster? Or is this simply another piece of the trap falling into place, closing around him? If Dumbledore being forced to leave the school is part of the Dark Lord’s plan, then presumably he, Regulus, will soon be receiving orders to leave Hogwarts too, as he’s obviously no use as a spy without the headmaster to spy on - or perhaps the Dark Lord is expecting him to obediently ask for instructions without waiting for an order? 

But no , Regulus thinks urgently, with another rush of panic, he can’t leave Hogwarts - how could he possibly leave Remus, Sirius, Fabian , to fend for themselves? How could he leave the school in this state, with a basilisk on the loose, leave everyone at the mercy of the mysterious so-called ‘Heir of Slytherin’? 

But then, if he tells the Dark Lord that he’s staying at Hogwarts, even if Dumbledore leaves - not to mention the fact that he still hasn’t passed on any information on the Potters - won’t he just be leaping headfirst into the trap that’s been set for him?

Regulus’s breath is coming in short, sharp gasps now, making his chest hurt. Dumbledore’s office seems suddenly to be spinning around him, his vision blurring. 

“Regulus?” 

Fabian’s warm voice reaches him through the fog, as though from a great distance away. He can still, faintly, hear that edge of panic in the other man’s voice. He hates it. 

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbles past his lips. 

Inhale, he tells himself desperately. Inhale….Inhale…  

He can’t seem to do it. 

“Regulus, sit.” 

Suddenly, he feels large, warm, calloused hands on his shoulders, guiding him gently into an armchair. He hadn’t noticed an armchair in here, other than the headmaster’s, he muses vaguely, as he sinks down onto the cushioned seat, his legs trembling beneath him. Perhaps Dumbledore had only just conjured it? “Breathe with me.” Fabian’s voice again. “Slowly, in through your nose and then out through your mouth, okay? One, two, three…”

Regulus follows his lead shakily, trying his best to breathe deeply, to get the oxygen into his lungs properly, to stop his head from spinning.

“Good…that’s good,” says that rich, warm voice - though he can’t help but notice, even through the slowly clearing fog in his head, that the other man’s voice is trembling slightly. “Just like that, Regulus, well done…”

Those warm hands are still firm on his shoulders, Fabian’s thumbs rubbing gentle circles into his shoulder blades. It feels strangely grounding, even though he normally gets anxious at the very thought of physical contact or affection. 

Finally, the dizziness dissipates enough that Regulus feels ready to open his eyes again. He blinks a little at the sight of Fabian’s face so close to his own, bright blue eyes wide with worry, just as they had been on that night in the cave, when the other man had come back for him. 

“It’s alright, Regulus,” Fabian murmurs, his face so close that Regulus can feel the flutter of his breath. “You’re alright.” 

It’s a lie, of course, and rather an obvious one - but he appreciates it nevertheless. He lets out a small, weak, laugh. It’s worth it for the look of relief that washes over his friend’s face. 

“Someone bloody give him something,” says Sirius’s voice.

Regulus blinks again, realising suddenly that the others are gazing at him with faces full of worry, too - or at least, Sirius and Remus are, the headmaster’s face is as inscrutable as ever. To his surprise, his brother is kneeling just behind Fabian, looking every bit as pale and anxious, twisting his hands together as he stares at him. 

“Perhaps a drink of water, Regulus?” says Dumbledore calmly; a moment later, a cool glass appears in midair next to him, nudging against his elbow gently but insistently. His hands still shaking, Regulus takes the glass and drinks - more to stop them all from bloody looking at him like that than because he actually wants it. 

“ Fuck water,” Remus pipes up suddenly. “He needs chocolate .”

Next moment, the scarred man seems to have produced a massive slab of Honeydukes chocolate from out of nowhere. Regulus gives a weak chuckle.

“You and your bloody chocolate stash.”

“Just eat the damn thing, Reg,” Remus replies sternly, “I haven’t poisoned it, I swear.”

“Thought I told you not to call me Reg?” he mutters, frowning at his friend.

“ You’re the invalid right now, and we’re the ones taking care of you,” Remus answers, in his best no-nonsense professor voice. “That means that you shut up and eat the chocolate, and I can call you whatever I damn well want, Reg.” 

He rolls his eyes and lets out a dramatic sigh, but gives in nonetheless, biting off a small chunk of chocolate. To his slight astonishment, he does feel a little better, the numb coldness in his chest replaced with silky warmth that seems to spread all the way down to his fingertips. 

“See?” the scarred man says smugly, raising an eyebrow.

Regulus pokes his tongue out at him and takes another bite. “Thanks,” he mutters. 

Alright, it definitely is helping - although that may be more to do with the fact that Fabian’s large hand is still warm on his shoulder, tracing slow, soothing circles against his collarbone.

He can still feel Sirius’s eyes on him, can sense his brother’s worry. But he keeps focusing on the chocolate, and the warmth of Fabian’s hand, and doesn’t look up at him.  

“So…” says Sirius finally, with a long, shaky exhale, turning back to Dumbledore. “You’re not actually going to cave to that bastard’s blackmail, right, Professor? We’re all agreed on that much, surely?” 

The headmaster doesn’t answer immediately. He sits with his fingertips steepled underneath his chin, gazing at Regulus rather than Sirius - but not as though he really sees him.

“Unfortunately,” he replies slowly, “the fact of the matter is that I will not have Hagrid sent to Azkaban. Not on my account. So…yes. I shall step aside. For the moment, at least.” 

“What?!” the other four exclaim simultaneously, staring at him in disbelief. 

Dumbledore lets out a small sigh. 

“I am afraid to say,” the headmaster clarifies, “that Lucius was merely passing on exactly what Voldemort had instructed him to say. Evidently, somebody in this castle is indeed reporting back to Lucius - and, by extension, to Voldemort - and it seems to me that the murder of poor Alfie Thomas was my last warning. My concern is that, from this moment, the safety of not just Hagrid, but all of my students, too, is reliant upon my heeding Lucius’s words.” 

“But -” Remus begins, looking as though he doesn’t know where to begin - but Dumbledore cuts him off anyway.

“I shall be perfectly alright,” he reassures them, with a small, sad smile. “Do not waste any time or energy worrying about me - I will still be able to continue my work for the Order outside of Hogwarts. I fear that it is the students here that you need to be worrying about instead. Perhaps you should let Hagrid know that it might be best for him to go up to the mountains, too, keep a low profile for a few weeks at least - I am afraid that my absence is not guaranteed to stop Lucius, if he is really determined against the poor man.”

He has already stood up, Regulus notices suddenly - he’s already clasping a travelling cloak around his shoulders, turning his face towards the darkness beyond the arched windows. 

“Wait a bloody moment,” says Sirius desperately, “you can’t just -” 

“I shall be back at Hogwarts as soon as I can, Sirius,” says the headmaster quietly, “I promise. In the meantime, I shall be leaving the castle in the capable hands of you four - as well as Minerva, of course, once Alfie’s poor parents have been contacted.” He sighs again, looking exhausted. “I shall leave her a letter to explain the situation. I take it I have your word, all of you, that you will do your best to protect my students while I am gone? And that you will do your best to find and stop this elusive ‘Heir of Slytherin’, at all costs?” 

“ Obviously we’ll do our best,” Regulus replies, a familiar sensation of fury beginning to bubble up underneath the anxiety now, “but that’s not -”

“Good,” says Dumbledore, smiling placidly at him over those half-moon spectacles, in that way that makes Regulus want to wring his neck. “I have every faith in you gentlemen. Please do send me a Patronus when there is more news. And remember - help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” 

“For god’s sake, Dumbledore, wait!” Sirius barks.

But Dumbledore gives a small nod to Fawkes, sitting tall and alert on his perch in the corner. Immediately, the phoenix beats his magnificent scarlet wings and rises into the air, hovering just above Dumbledore. He reaches up to grasp the bird’s tail feathers; a moment later, there is a bright flash of flame that makes the others cry out in surprise.

The airborne flames vanish as quickly as they’d appeared, and both phoenix and headmaster are gone. 

Three Days Later - The Hog’s Head

“So?” says Remus quietly. “Are you going to leave too, Regulus? Now that Dumbledore’s gone?” 

“No,” he answers simply. “I’m not.” 

Now that Dumbledore has left, and the news of Alfie Thomas’s death has spread around the castle, Hogwarts seems to have plunged into a state of grief, confusion and terror. McGonagall had certainly seemed shocked to find herself the acting headmistress, suddenly in charge of a school which was rapidly sinking into utter chaos; but, characteristically, she had accepted the challenge with grim resolution and no complaints.

Alfie’s parents had been contacted as swiftly as possible. God knows what McGonagall had told them, Regulus muses; god knows how the poor people must be feeling. Alfie’s parents are both Muggles, of course, so they couldn’t even walk onto Hogwarts grounds to collect his body, given they wouldn’t have been able to see anything except a crumbling ruin. Not that anybody would really want to be on the grounds of Hogwarts right now, he supposes. McGonagall had arranged to meet the Thomases just past the boundary of Hogsmeade, next to the station, to deliver their son’s body to them. Regulus hadn’t even realised that Muggle transport ran to Hogsmeade Station, but clearly McGonagall had managed to organise it somehow. 

They had hastened to meet McGonagall the moment she’d arrived back in the castle, wanting to know how it had gone, if there was anything any of them could do for her; but the formidable witch had merely shaken her head, looking more exhausted than any of them had ever seen her, and told them that she wanted nothing more than to retire to her office, alone. 

Regulus had been desperate, by that point, to escape from the castle just for a few hours, escape from that sensation of having to look over his shoulder every other moment. Even so, he probably wouldn’t have stepped off the Hogwarts grounds - bound by his own guilt as much as his sense of duty - if it hadn’t been for Remus, who was clearly just as desperate to breathe freely if only for a few hours. Remus had reminded him that they couldn’t keep letting Sirius and Fabian come up to the school - and that had settled it, as far as Regulus was concerned. He would not endanger either his brother or his friend, any more than he already had - and he needed to spend some time with Fabian. More than anything.

So now, having finally persuaded the other two not to come up to Hogwarts, here the four of them sit, drinking quietly at a little table tucked away in the corner of The Hog’s Head, all of them feeling stunned and overwhelmed and exhausted. 

“You’re not going to leave Hogwarts, Reg?” Sirius asks, looking up at him in surprise. 

“No,” he answers quietly, gazing into the fireplace rather than looking back at his brother. “I’m not going to leave. I…I can’t.” 

“But…” Fabian croaks. “If…if You-Know-Who was the one who gave that Malfoy git orders to chase Dumbledore out…surely he won’t be expecting you to stay put? Won’t he be waiting for you to ask where you should go next?” 

Regulus looks sideways at him and sees that his blue eyes are wide with fear again. He fights the urge to pull the freckled man towards him. 

“Probably,” he replies, trying to offer Fabian a reassuring grin, and hoping he sounds a lot less anxious than he feels. “But it looks like he’s probably onto me, anyway - so I guess it won’t matter much if I stay here to help you three idiots, will it? I mean…looks like I’m pretty much screwed either way, right?”

The redhead makes that small whimpering sound again, the same noise he had made in Dumbledore’s office. Hastily, he clears his throat and looks away, his eyes distinctly watery. For a moment, Regulus thinks he feels the soft brush of fingertips against his knee; but a moment later, the sensation has vanished, and he wonders if he’d imagined it.

Regulus knows he would be lying if he tried to tell himself that he wasn’t terrified. There are moments when he thinks about his decision to stay at Hogwarts with the others, even as everything seems to be crumbling around them, and wonders whether he’s gone insane. 

“Look, I’m not going to pretend I haven’t thought about leaving,” he says heavily, taking a long swig of Firewhiskey, “or that I’m not fucking terrified right now - of course I am. But I realised that if I went back to the Dark Lord now, tried to throw myself on his ‘mercy’, while leaving you three alone at Hogwarts, with a maniac still on the loose somewhere in the castle, setting a basilisk on kids …well, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“You do say that you don’t want to live with yourself quite often, though, Regulus,” Remus points out wryly. “You have one or two little issues with your self esteem.”

“Touche,” Regulus responds, raising his glass to the scarred man with a small grin, as Sirius mutters “Kettle, have you met my friend cauldron?” under his breath. “But my point is, I’ve had a bit of time to think about this. And yes, I’m probably blowing my cover once and for all by staying, now that the old man is gone. But…at least I’ll know that I tried to help. At least I’ll know that I did the right thing, when it mattered most.” 

The other three are staring at him, wide-eyed. Fabian’s lower lip is trembling a little, and Sirius has a look of blank shock on his face. Regulus gives them a small grin, trying to reassure them. 

“Guess I’ve been spending too much time with all you bloody Gryffindors, right?” 

Fabian lets out a slightly choked laugh.

“Sounds like it,” he whispers, grinning sideways at Regulus. 

Regulus sees that there are tears glistening in his eyes; he quickly ducks his head, feeling almost overwhelmed by the tangle of emotions in his chest. Never mind the basilisk; these eyes seem pretty dangerous to him.

“You know, Regulus,” Remus pipes up, his voice sounding suspiciously croaky too, “it’s fairly likely they’re going to close Hogwarts anyway, at this point, given what’s happened - if not now, then pretty damn soon. So you might not have any choice but to leave the castle - none of us will, I suppose.” 

Regulus tries to suppress a shiver at that thought.

“Well,” he says, taking a deep breath, “suppose we’ll just have to put every bloody bit of collective courage and cunning that we’ve got into catching the bastard who’s controlling this basilisk - if not now, then pretty damn soon. Before they have to close the school. Right?” 

The lanky, scarred man gives him a somewhat shaky grin.

“Right.” 

For a moment, the four of them lapse into silence, each of them processing the weight of what Regulus had said, the seeming impossibility of the task before them. After all, it’s all very well for him to start making these bloody noble decisions - or perhaps the more accurate word would be stupid - but at this point, they’re all painfully aware that catching the maniac behind this mess is far easier said than done. 

Regulus sighs, feeling that mingled frustration and hopelessness welling up inside him again, rising like a tide in his chest, making him want to scream or hit something or hex someone. Or cry. Instead, he leans his elbows on the table, burying his head in his hands, struggling not to give in to the anxiety threatening to overwhelm him again. If he didn’t feel so close to crying, he could almost laugh at himself. When did my life turn into…this?

“Regulus?” Fabian asks gently.

He doesn’t look up at him, speaking into his hands instead. It feels easier not to break, that way. 

“I just…I wish I knew where to bloody start ,” he mutters. “I mean…yeah, okay, we figured out there’s a basilisk in the castle. Great. Well done us.” 

“Well done you , you mean,” Remus interjects.

“Whatever. Point is, knowing that hasn’t really got us any closer to fixing this mess, has it? Just makes us more bloody scared all the time. We know there’s a giant snake somewhere inside the castle that can literally kill people just by staring at them, so we’re walking around squinting, terrified to glance too closely whenever we see the slightest strange movement out of the corner of our eyes. But we still don’t have a clue who’s controlling the damn thing, who it is that’s communicating not just with a bloody basilisk , but apparently with Malfoy and the Dark Lord, too. If we could figure out who was doing it, then maybe we might have a slight inkling of where this giant snake might turn up next. But it feels like Remus and I have been looking and looking at everyone in this stupid castle - which gets a lot trickier when you realise that looking at something too closely can be fatal, believe it or not - and still, we don’t have a single bloody clue. Whoever it is, they must be a pretty good actor, because nobody that I’ve seen seems to be behaving in a remotely suspicious way. Everybody seems just as terrified as each other, these days. But we must be missing something. ” He swallows, trying to fight back the anxiety attack that he can feel creeping up on him. Really, one in a week feels like quite enough. “I just…I just wish there was some way that we could properly keep an eye on everyone . At the same time.”

There’s another silence for a moment, as the other three process his words. 

Then, astonishingly, Sirius’s face suddenly lights up, and he lets out an exaggerated gasp. 

“Wait - there is a way, though!” he exclaims, practically yelling in his excitement, making them all jump slightly.

They all turn to stare at him, Regulus wincing a little and rubbing his temple wearily. He’s not really in the mood to deal with his brother and his lack of volume control. 

“What?” he sighs. “What are you talking about, Sirius?” 

But his brother isn’t looking at him; he tucks his feet under his knees on his chair, practically bouncing as he looks brightly at his boyfriend.

“ Moony!” he says, almost sings really. “Moony Moony Moony!”

“What, Pads?” Remus asks, trying and failing to give him a stern look, his lips twitching into a grin despite himself. 

“The map , that’s what!” Sirius replies, grinning like a madman now, grey eyes shining with that look of excitement and steely determination he always gets whenever he has an idea. “Bloody Wormtail got it confiscated by Filch at the end of seventh year, remember? It’s probably still right there in his office!”

Regulus frowns in bewilderment, exchanging a glance with Fabian, who shrugs back at him. Remus, on the other hand, stares at Sirius with his jaw hanging open, looking utterly thunderstruck. 

“Fuck… Sirius ,” he whispers, sounding dazed, awed. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” 

“Oh, maybe once or twice,” Sirius says airily, grinning back at him. “Still, couldn’t hurt to remind me.” 

Remus laughs, leaning forwards to close the small distance between the two of them, kissing him fiercely. Sirius grins against his mouth. 

Regulus shifts awkwardly, staring down at the dusty table, doing his best not to look over at Fabian.

“For Godric’s sake,” the redhead in question exclaims loudly, sounding thoroughly annoyed. “Could you two either get a room, or explain to me and Regulus what the hell you’re on about, please?” 

They separate reluctantly, keeping their foreheads pressed together for a moment. Remus is beaming, his whole face glowing with hope suddenly. Regulus isn’t sure he’s ever seen the man smile like that; suddenly, the scars scattered over his face seem much less prominent than usual. 

“We made a map,” he explains, finally turning his head away from Sirius. “When we were at school here. Me, Sirius, James, and…and Peter.” His mouth twists a little as he says this last name, his expression darkening for a moment - but he seems to shake himself, excited grin returning as he slips back into the present. “Anyway, the map shows you absolutely everyone in Hogwarts - as well as where they are, and what they’re doing. Every minute of every day.” 

Now it’s Regulus and Fabian who are staring with their mouths hanging open. For a brief moment, Regulus wonders whether his friend and his brother have finally just cracked from the stress of it all. 

“You’re fucking joking , Lupin,” Fabian declares. 

“Nope!” Sirius responds gleefully. “He’s not!” 

“What, and…and it actually works?” the freckled man asks weakly, staring back and forth between Sirius and Remus. “This map that you made with highly advanced magic when you were teenagers? ”

Remus just shrugs with a small grin, flushing slightly. Sirius, on the other hand, tosses his long dark hair, smirking at Fabian. 

“What can I say, Prewett?” he answers smugly. “We’re good at what we do.” 

Regulus stares at his older brother, not wanting to admit just how impressed he is. Sirius looks far too pleased with himself as it is.

“So,” he says sardonically. “You’re telling us that you created a map that will let us know where everyone inside Hogwarts is at any given point…and this map has been sitting in Filch’s office this whole time? And you’re just mentioning it now?” 

The smirk vanishes from his brother’s face at that, and Regulus tries to ignore the petty surge of satisfaction he feels, that competitiveness between them that’s been a constant since they were children. Score one point for me. 

“Alright, fine,” Sirius grumbles, scowling at him now, “so maybe I only just remembered it existed. I mean, we haven’t thought about it for almost five years! And at least I did remember it!”

“Bit late,” Regulus mutters, thinking of Meggie Brown and Alfie Thomas. 

“Well, better late than never, wouldn’t you say?” Remus replies, raising an eyebrow at him pointedly. 

Regulus sighs, knowing that he’s being a petty child, and feeling very much chastised. Bloody Lupin. He really was born to be a teacher. 

“Right. It does sound amazing, Sirius,” he admits reluctantly. 

“Oh, it is,” Sirius replies, folding his arms and looking haughtily back at him. Regulus rolls his eyes  - he wouldn’t put it past his brother to stick his tongue out at him right about now. 

“So,” he says, trying to focus on the matter at hand, “this miraculous map - do you think a basilisk would show up on it? Be pretty useful to know exactly where that is, before we go wandering blindly around the castle, wouldn’t it?” 

Sirius’s haughty look fades again, as he exchanges an uncertain glance with Remus. 

“I…I dunno,” he admits. “It’s bloody useful, the best thing we ever came up with, probably, but…it’s not like it’s infallible . I don’t know if it registers animals, unless they happen to be Animagi. We never actually tested that.” 

A moment of uncomfortable silence. 

“Well,” says Remus quietly, twining his fingers with Sirius’s and squeezing, “we won’t know until we try, right?” 

“Right,” Sirius breathes, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand in return and giving him a soft smile. 

It’s amazing, really - Regulus has never known anyone else who could soothe his hotheaded brother like that.

“Did you say this map was confiscated by Filch five years ago?” he asks incredulously. The two of them look round at him, blinking a little as though they’d almost forgotten they weren’t alone. 

“What…oh, yeah,” Sirius replies. “Don’t worry, the map was wiped clean when he took it - it would have just looked like a blank piece of parchment to him. There’s no way that assface could have actually figured out how to access the map, I guarantee it,” he finishes smugly.

“Not to bring down the mood or anything, Sirius,” Regulus points out sardonically, “but if Filch just thought it was a blank piece of parchment, what makes you think he would have bothered to keep it in his office for five years? Surely, he might have chucked it out by now?” 

Sirius hesitates again, exchanging another glance with Remus. Regulus can tell from the expression on their faces that both of them can see his point - and they don’t like it. 

“One way to find out, I suppose,” Remus murmurs. 

“Right…and how exactly are you planning to get into Filch’s office without his noticing?” Regulus asks cautiously. 

Sirius doesn’t hesitate this time, but breaks into a wide grin. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, baby brother,” he says gleefully. “Prongs lent me his Invisibility Cloak when I came up to Hogsmeade. Just in case.” 

He and Remus turn to each other again, both beaming now, their eyes alight with the prospect of mischief and rule breaking. Regulus hasn’t seen the pair of them looking this excited for years; for a moment, it feels like he’s looking at two ridiculous teenage pranksters again.

Merlin , they’re going to be insufferable, he thinks.

“Fine,” he sighs, “let’s do it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Reg,” Sirius replies, wide-eyed with a look of mock apology. “I didn’t realise we were waiting for your permission. My mistake.”

Remus sniggers, as Regulus narrows his eyes at his brother.

“Wait,” says Fabian. “There’s a map and a cloak, now?” 

As it turns out, getting into Filch’s office is far easier than Regulus had expected it to be. Sirius gleefully drops a Dungbomb in the Charms corridor, on the opposite side of the castle - and for extra measure, Remus decides to have a little chat with Peeves. Regulus doesn’t know precisely what he had said, but soon enough the poltergeist is cackling as he smashes up the old trophy room, and Remus very mildly informs the caretaker - who is still fuming about the mysteriously dropped Dungbomb - that he might like to keep an eye on the Peeves situation as well. Sirius is barely managing to contain his sniggers by the time Filch storms off, practically howling with rage; but his face lights up with excitement again the moment the crotchety caretaker is out of sight, and Remus nudges him. 

Regulus watches, still unwilling to admit he’s impressed, as his brother takes one glance around the corridor for good measure, before pulling Potter’s silvery Invisibility Cloak out from underneath his robes with a flourish. Grinning widely, grey eyes bright with mischief, he throws the Cloak over both himself and Remus. A moment later, Filch’s office door appears to open by itself, before gently closing again, leaving Regulus and Fabian as lookouts in the corridor outside.

Regulus is alone. With Fabian Prewett. For the first time in months. 

Alright, so maybe this won’t be quite as easy as it had seemed. 

An awkward silence falls between them for a few moments. 

“Hey,” Fabian murmurs, tentatively.

“Hi,” he answers stiffly. 

It feels as though Fabian is practically radiating warmth, even in this dark corner of the castle, and Regulus shakes himself a little, trying to resist the ridiculous temptation to step closer to the taller man, to huddle into his side while they wait for the others. 

Unbidden, the memory of that night at the Potters’ in Godric’s Hollow comes back to him - that night when that strange reckless urge had come to him, when he and Fabian were speaking and he had been looking at the other man’s lips for a moment too long. When he had started to move towards him, suddenly hungry for a bit more of that warmth, that light. That night when he had almost made a complete fool of himself, almost showed Fabian the pathetic, cracked foundations behind the walls he had built for himself, almost showed him that beneath everything, he’s desperate for… something . Every time he gets lost in those bright blue eyes, he’s desperate for it. Even if he doesn’t quite know what it is he’s looking for. 

James Potter, oblivious idiot that the man is, had barged in and stopped him from ruining everything, of course. But still, in quiet moments like this…Regulus can’t help but wonder if his idiocy that night has destroyed everything between them, after all. Once, being with Fabian had felt much more comfortable and easy than being with…well, anyone else in the world, really. But something has shifted, now, and he doesn’t know how to put it back into place. He wonders if Fabian is thinking of that night, too. Perhaps the older man is just too bloody kind to tell Regulus that he had made him uncomfortable; that would be just like him. 

Regulus stares blankly at the closed door of Filch’s office, finding that he can’t look at the beautiful man beside him. 

“So…” Fabian takes a deep breath. “Been a while since we had a moment just to ourselves, right?”

Regulus tries not to flinch. So he is thinking about that night. Clearly, he hasn’t got past what Regulus had done - or almost done - and who can blame him? But Regulus can’t talk about this. Not here. Not now.

“Yeah. I suppose so,” he mutters, still looking determinedly at Filch’s door. “Been quite a lot to deal with here in the castle these past few months, you know.” 

“Yeah,” the redhead replies, the word rushing out on a breath, as though he’s just been winded. Out of the corner of his eye, Regulus sees the taller man staring down at his shoes, scuffing his feet on the ground. For a moment, he looks almost…anxious. “Yeah, no, I do understand that, Regulus. I get it. Things have been…hard.” 

Regulus nods, not really sure how to respond to that. Silence falls between them again for a moment.

“So,” Fabian tries again, his voice determinedly bright now. “It was you who figured it out, huh? About the basilisk, I mean?”

He tenses again, feeling that familiar creeping sensation as he wonders how close the serpent is right now. 

“I…yeah,” he says with a small shrug, hoping the other man can’t see the fear in his eyes. “Well, me and Remus.”

“Actually, from what Remus said, it was pretty much just you who figured out that part,” Fabian corrects him. 

Regulus shrugs.

“You’re doing it again,” Fabian says quietly, still gazing at him searchingly, the forced brightness in his voice gone now. 

“Doing what?” he asks, still determinedly keeping his eyes averted. 

“Making yourself smaller,” the other man murmurs. “You really need to stop that.”

“Why?” he asks sceptically. 

“Why?” Fabian echoes impatiently. “Because you’re bloody brilliant , Regulus, that’s why.”

He tries to swallow past the lump that seems to have lodged itself in his throat. Nobody else has ever spoken to him like this man does. 

It’s so hard to believe that Fabian is actually right about him, that there might be more to him than hard, sharp, broken shards of glass, the remnants of the walls he’s tried to build over the years to keep himself safe. And it’s so hard for Regulus to keep his distance in moments like this, not to overwhelm his friend even more by curling into him, begging pathetically for Fabian to tell him more, give him more of those beautiful, kind words, even if Regulus knows that they’re not true. And if Fabian truly believes that his words are true…well, that just makes the ache in his chest all the sweeter. 

Regulus wants so desperately to believe in himself, to believe that he could ever be even the slightest bit good enough to deserve somebody like Fabian Prewett. He can’t help himself; he just looks at this man and he wants. 

He takes a deep, shaky breath before he replies. 

“Anyway, yes, there’s a basilisk, somewhere,” he says, eyes still fixed on the door in front of them. “Which is why Remus and I kept trying to tell you two idiots not to come into the castle. Honestly, we really don’t need all four of us to find this bloody map. I’m sure Remus and I could have managed perfectly well between us, with Potter’s Cloak. I mean, if anything happened to…”

He trails off. No, he can’t even think about that. 

“Fair point,” Fabian counters, the grin in his voice sounding much more genuine now. “But come on, Regulus, surely you know us better than that? You and I both know that once your brother remembered that frankly insane sounding map of theirs, there was no way in hell anybody was going to dissuade him from taking that Cloak and Remus, so he could get his hands on it again.”

“No, I suppose not,” he concedes, with a small sigh. “Nobody ever stops my idiotic brother from doing anything, once he sets his mind to it - except Remus, that is. And apparently he’s decided to indulge him this time.” 

“Exactly,” says Fabian triumphantly. “And, given there would have been absolutely no way of stopping Sirius, you didn’t really expect me to sit and wait patiently in Hogsmeade, did you? I mean, someone has to help supervise. And besides, I…”

He trails off suddenly. For the first time, Regulus turns properly to look at him. 

His grin has vanished again. He looks more vulnerable than Regulus has ever seen him; there’s a look of hesitation on his freckled face, as though he’s debating whether to admit something out loud. 

“What?” he asks, curious.

Fabian sighs slightly. He turns his head to look back at him, and before he knows it, Regulus is lost in those eyes again.

“I’ve bloody missed you,” he says, almost a whisper. 

Oh. 

Regulus can’t breathe again. He’s falling. It’s terrifying - and yet, somehow, it’s wonderful. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to find some respite. 

“Fabian,” he breathes, his voice shaking a little despite his best efforts. “I repeat, there is a basilisk somewhere in the castle, right now . If you had stayed in Hogsmeade, you would be running far less risk of running into said basilisk.” 

For a brief moment, a flicker of fear crosses the taller man’s face. But then Fabian swallows, and shrugs.

“Yeah. I’m aware of that. But, like I said - I missed you.”

Regulus tries to force himself to breathe. In, out. 

They’re not even touching, but for a moment it feels like the sunlight that Fabian seems to carry everywhere with him is still seeping through Regulus’s skin, somehow, spreading through him in tendrils and warming him from the inside out, fizzing and sparking in his chest. 

“Bloody Gryffindors,” he murmurs. He can’t seem to look away from those stupid eyes. “Reckless idiots, the lot of you.” 

Fabian huffs out a laugh at that, grinning at Regulus in a way that makes him feel almost drunk. 

“Seems a bit rich, coming from the man who stole a Horcrux from You-Know-Who, left him a letter boasting about it, and then decided to ignore the bastard’s instructions altogether, so he could stay at Hogwarts to protect everyone from a giant murderous snake.” 

Regulus lets out a slightly stunned laugh at that.

“Huh. You know, when you say it like that, you make it sound like I’m just as ridiculous as the rest of you.” 

“God, I hope so,” Fabian replies, grinning at him again and taking a step closer.

Regulus moves too, his feet carrying him forwards without conscious thought. 

Filch’s office door opens abruptly, making both of them jump as Remus and Sirius pull the Cloak off, seeming to appear out of midair in front of them. 

“See?” Sirius crows, triumphantly waving what appears to be an old and slightly battered piece of parchment at them. “ Told you it was worth a try, Reg! Honestly, even I’m surprised at how easy that was - bit embarrassing for our poor old pal Filch, really, he needs to work on his security.” 

“He’s a Squib, Pads, it’s presumably a bit tricky for him to put many security spells in place,” Remus reminds him reasonably, though he too is grinning and looking rather pleased with himself, apparently delighted to be successfully breaking school rules with his boyfriend again. “Anyway, I imagine he’d just forgotten he even had it in there - a blank piece of parchment confiscated five years ago isn’t likely to be -”

Remus stops as he takes in the sight of Fabian and Regulus, standing with deliberate distance between them and awkwardly avoiding eye contact with each other. Immediately, his excited grin becomes more of a smirk.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, widening his eyes in mock concern, “I do hope we’re not interrupting anything. We can go back inside Filch’s office for a bit, if you’d like?”

“Wait…” Sirius’s grin fades as he glances back and forth between them. “What were you two doing?” he asks, looking accusingly at Fabian for some reason. 

“For god’s sake, we weren’t doing anything !” Regulus huffs, glaring at the pair of them. 

He feels as though scalding water is rising up his cheeks. He doesn’t dare to look over at Fabian, who has gone uncharacteristically quiet. 

“So…good, you found it, well done,” he continues, feeling much more flustered than he would have expected, considering he and Fabian had only been talking. “Let’s just…let’s go to my office, shall we? Take a look at this so-called miraculous map , somewhere that isn’t the middle of the corridor?” 

He turns and hastily begins to stride towards his office as fast as he can, avoiding eye contact with the other three and leaving them all to trail in his wake. Fabian hangs back, apparently trying to keep Sirius under control - or perhaps he’s trying to give Regulus some space. Remus, on the other hand, uses his lanky legs as an advantage, immediately speeding up to walk at his side. He doesn’t say anything, and Regulus doesn’t look at him - but he can still sense his smirk.

“Shut up, Lupin,” he growls, speeding up again. 

“Right,” Regulus says, walking over to his desk the moment that the door is closed behind them, flicking his wand at the fireplace on his way so that flames leap up, crackling merrily as though they’ve been burning for hours. The other three follow him, Fabian still hanging back slightly. “Show us this map of yours, then.” 

“Gladly,” says Sirius smugly, placing the old piece of parchment down on Regulus’s desk between them with a flourish. He clears his throat dramatically and taps his wand against it. 

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!” he declares, in a sing-song voice, as Remus casually flicks his wand at the lamp next to the desk to give them more light. Simultaneously, they all lean forwards to look. 

Despite himself, Regulus feels his jaw drop slightly. Delicate lines of ink are blossoming out from the centre of the parchment, spreading tendrils into every corner. As they watch, the entire outline of Hogwarts takes shape on the page before them, immaculately detailed in every panel. And that’s not all; hundreds of finely penned names are tracing themselves in the ink. Regulus immediately recognises his brother’s perfect calligraphy, not just in the many tiny names swarming and crisscrossing across the parchment, but in the larger words swirling into shape at the top. 

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, Purveyors of Aid to Magical Mischief Makers, are Proud to Present: THE MARAUDERS’ MAP. 

“Holy shit,” Regulus breathes before he can stop himself, staring down at the tiny ink footsteps, floating this way and that across the castle, crossing paths, each pair clearly connected to one of the hundreds of names. It’s like watching a city taking shape from nothing.

“Told you it was good,” Sirius says, smirking. 

“There’s us,” Fabian remarks, sounding dazed as he points towards the four names huddled in Regulus’s office: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Fabian Prewett, Regulus Black. “ Merlin , I even just saw myself moving a tiny bit closer to you three, when I moved closer to the map!” He stares up at Remus and Sirius, beaming. “Bloody hell, I feel pretty thick compared to you people now.” Sirius snorts at that. “How long did this thing take you?”

“Oh, the best part of three years,” Remus answers. He reaches out to twine his fingers with Sirius’s. “But it was worth the effort, I’d say.” 

“Yep, I’d say so too,” Sirius responds, grinning up at his lanky boyfriend. Remus gently brushes a strand of Sirius’s long dark hair behind his ear. For some reason, something inside Regulus aches at the sight of that. He looks down at the map again, determinedly avoiding Fabian’s eyes. 

“Well, I don’t know about you three,” he says, feeling a slight sinking sensation in his stomach, “but, even though I have to admit this thing is pretty incredible, I can’t actually see anything labelled ‘basilisk.’ Can you three see it?”

They stare down, too, scanning the map for a few moments.

“No,” says Remus reluctantly. “Can’t even see where any of the owls or cats are; look, you can clearly see where the Owlery is, but it looks like it’s completely empty. I suppose we didn’t bother enchanting it to show animals - probably didn’t want to overload it with information that didn’t seem relevant.”

“So no basilisk?” Regulus asks.

“No basilisk,” Remus sighs gloomily.

“Maybe Reg is just wrong about the -?” 

“I’m not,” Regulus interjects, looking stonily at his brother. “I’ll admit your map is brilliant, Sirius, but it’s not perfect.” 

“Fine,” Sirius mutters, raising his hands in surrender. “It was just a thought.” 

“Well, it’s not the end of the world,” Fabian says hastily. “Doesn’t stop this thing from being bloody useful, we can still keep an eye on everyone now. Question is, can we see anybody anywhere they shouldn’t be?”

At that, the four of them lean forwards again, poring over the parchment. There’s so many tiny names that it’s hard to keep track of them all, Regulus muses, squinting slightly. But as far as he can see, most of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors are milling about in their respective towers, the Slytherins down in the dungeons and the Hufflepuffs near the kitchens. McGonagall is pacing across Dumbledore’s recently vacated office; two students are with Sprout in her office, one student with Flitwick in his. Trelawney’s footsteps are fluttering around her tower room, and Peeves and Filch seem to be having some kind of standoff in the trophy room.

“Hmm…nope,” says Remus. “Can’t see anything out of the ordinary, really. You two?”  

Fabian and Sirius both shake their heads. 

“Well then,” Regulus replies, trying not to sound as disappointed as he feels. They’ve still made a massive stride forwards, finding this map, he reminds himself. “We’ll just have to keep checking it regularly, I suppose. As for you two,” he adds, fixing his gaze on his brother, because looking at Fabian feels like staring directly into a bright light, “I think you’ve been hanging around in the castle for long enough now. It’s getting late, you should be getting back down to Hogsmeade. Safer there.” 

Sirius makes a noise of outrage. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, Reg!” he complains. “Only Moony can tell me what to do - Moony, tell him!” 

“That’s right,” Remus agrees, grinning a little despite himself. “But unfortunately for you Pads, I happen to agree with your little brother on this occasion.” 

“ What?” he exclaims, sounding even more outraged now. “But Moony -”

Remus grins again, even as he rolls his eyes. He takes out his wand and taps it against the map.

“Mischief managed,” he murmurs. 

Slowly, the beautiful calligraphy and tendrils of ink vanish, all the tiny names and footprints disappearing one by one, until only a blank piece of parchment lies in front of them, folding itself up neatly on Regulus’s desk.

“You’ve been brilliant today, Pads,” he says, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to Sirius’s forehead. Regulus feels his breath hitch, remembering again what Fabian had said . 

“I’m always brilliant,” Sirius replies petulantly. Regulus rolls his eyes at that, but Remus just shakes his head at him fondly, an adoring smile on his face. 

“Yeah,” he says simply. “I know that, you idiot. But you should still go, get some sleep. Both of you,” he adds, turning to Fabian. 

The redhead just huffs, apparently realising there’s no point in arguing.

“Don’t worry,” says Remus, still grinning. “Regulus and I will have the map here, and we’ll keep you two posted. Promise.” 

February, 1983

To say that everyone in the castle is on edge would, at this point, be a severe understatement. 

Everybody knows by now that McGonagall is standing in for Dumbledore, who seems to have vanished without warning, as has Hagrid. Everybody knows that someone or something has not only Petrified Filch’s cat and Meggie Brown, but killed Alfie Thomas. Everybody knows that Sprout’s Mandrakes have only just matured, which means that Professor Black has only just been able to start brewing the Restorative Draught - not that that will be much help to poor Alfie, of course. 

But still, nobody in the castle, not even Regulus or Remus, knows exactly why this nightmare is unfolding, or who is behind it - nobody has been able to connect all the dots. Except for the culprit themself, Regulus presumes - but the ‘Heir of Slytherin’ seems to have gone suddenly, eerily quiet since Alfie Thomas’s murder. There haven’t been any more attacks since that night - but that only makes Regulus more uneasy, and he knows that Remus and the others feel the same way. Why would this maniac just…stop? Presumably they’re not feeling pangs of conscience - perhaps their final aim, their instructions from the Dark Lord, had been to drive Dumbledore out, which they’ve now succeeded in? 

Or is this person simply trying to lull them all into a false sense of security? 

Regulus, for one, refuses to take that bait; and as February arrives, frosty and cold and clear, his focus is split between brewing the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus and the Restorative Draught for the basilisk’s victims - both insanely complex - and checking the Marauders’ Map on a near-constant basis.

He and Remus have been as good as their word in reporting back to Sirius and Fabian - they both know they’d never hear the end of it if they didn’t - but the problem is, there doesn’t seem to be anything to report. Regulus keeps going back to look at the astonishing map about ten times a day - sometimes it’s almost like an itch, a compulsion, he can’t let it out of his sight for too long - but he can’t seem to see anything out of the ordinary. Just teachers and students milling about - mostly in large groups, given that everybody is so terrified these days. McGonagall has enforced a new rule that students must be chaperoned by teachers at all times, even in the corridors between lessons.

It’s incredibly frustrating, Regulus muses more than once as he peruses the Map, to be able to see so much of the castle…and yet still so little. The basilisk could be approaching someone, even while he stares at them…and still, he would only be able to see their name. 

“Hey, look…is this weird?” Remus asks him one evening, sounding a little desperate as he pores over the Map. 

“Is what weird?” Regulus asks quickly, hurrying over to join him. 

“I mean, I don’t know, I’m probably clutching at straws by this point,” Remus admits, running a frustrated hand through his mop of sandy curls, “but look.” 

He points at a name on the map, seemingly alone in the middle of the third corridor, and Regulus leans closer to read it. Bill Weasley. 

“I’ve been staring at this bloody thing for close to ten minutes, now, I swear - and it seems like the kid’s just been sitting by himself in the middle of that corridor that whole time. That’s weird, right?”

“Yeah,” Regulus muses, frowning down at the tiny name. “I mean, besides anything else, dinner’s finished - he should be in Gryffindor Tower, shouldn’t he? Merlin knows how he managed to slip past McGonagall.” 

“So,” Remus responds, standing upright and picking up his wand in one hand and the Map in the other, “we investigate?”

Regulus nods. 

“We investigate.” 

Somehow, every time he glances at little Bill Weasley, it surprises Regulus anew how much he can see Fabian in him. The kid’s face is exactly the same shape as his uncle’s; same features, freckles scattered in almost exactly the same pattern across his cheeks. But, as he and Remus slowly approach Bill in the third corridor, Regulus realises that he’s certainly never seen Fabian looking quite like this. 

Fabian Prewett is sunshine and laughter and mischievous grins - but his nephew is sitting in a tiny, shadowy alcove with his knees curled up against his chest, as if he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. As they move closer, Regulus frowns - the kid is staring into the distance with a blank, dazed expression on his face, as though he can’t actually see his surroundings. He seems to be muttering to himself. 

Regulus exchanges a look with Remus, and sees his own unease mirrored in his friend’s face.

“Bill?” Remus asks, his voice gentle, as though he’s talking to a woodland creature that startles easily. Nevertheless, Bill jumps violently as his gaze focuses on them, as though he hadn’t even noticed their approach. Remus kneels so that he’s at eye level with the kid. “Are you alright?” 

“Professor Lupin?” Bill asks, startled, eyes wide as he stares at the pair of them. “Professor Black?” 

“We were just wondering what you were doing here, Bill,” Remus says, in that same gentle tone. “Why are you by yourself?” 

“I…I…” Bill looks helplessly up at them, and a look of utter devastation suddenly settles over his freckled face. His blue eyes fill with tears, his lip trembling. “I don’t remember.” 

“You don’t remember?” Regulus repeats incredulously, raising an eyebrow. 

Bill flinches violently at his tone. Remus shoots Regulus a warning glare, and he reluctantly falls silent. 

“That’s alright,” Remus says soothingly, turning back to Bill. “Let’s just get you back to the Gryffindor common room where it’s nice and cosy, shall we?”

Bill nods shakily at that, the tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks now. He raises one trembling hand to catch at a tear and frowns slightly, as though surprised to find himself crying.

Remus keeps one gentle hand on the kid’s shoulder all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, continuing to murmur words of reassurance, while Regulus hangs back, feeling uncomfortable. Bill still seems a little unsteady on his feet, taking deep breaths as he walks; Remus seems to be guiding him, as though Bill doesn’t know the way by himself.

“I’ll wait here, shall I?” Regulus mutters, as the three of them reach the portrait of the Fat Lady. He feels awkward and out of place enough already, and the Gryffindor common room definitely isn’t his space. 

Remus casts him a swiftly appraising look, and nods. He turns to the Fat Lady and murmurs the password so that she swings open. Regulus sees him gently squeezing the kid’s shoulder as he guides him through the portrait hole. 

Regulus paces back and forth in front of the portrait while he waits, lost in thought. Time seems to pass ridiculously slowly as he waits for Remus to return; he wishes he’d thought to tell the other man to leave the Map with him. 

Finally, the portrait swings open again, revealing Remus clambering through, looking exhausted and somehow much older than he had been a mere hour ago. 

“Well, you were right,” Regulus tells him, as they begin to walk back together. “That was definitely weird.” 

“Yeah.” Remus sighs, running a weary hand over his face. “Maybe he’s just…feeling overwhelmed by everything? I mean, you’ve got to admit, things are pretty fucking scary right now, even for us - and we’ve seen a lot. But for an eleven-year-old -”

“No,” Regulus interrupts, surprising himself with how firm he sounds. Remus looks at him. “I mean, yes, obviously things are overwhelming for everyone, but…” He casts around for the right words to express the ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Something’s not right here. We need to keep an eye on that kid.”

“Yeah, no shit, Regulus,” Remus replies, raising one eyebrow at him. Regulus lets out a humourless laugh. 

They lapse into silence for a moment, both deep in thought.

“We should probably tell Fab, shouldn’t we?” Remus asks after a moment.

Regulus swallows, trying not to think too much about the worry in Fabian’s eyes when he hears. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Probably.” 

One Week Later

Fabian had reacted to their report exactly how Regulus had expected him to, panic flaring up in those bright blue eyes, in a way that had tugged at something deep in Regulus’s chest. 

“But…do you think he’ll be alright?” he had asked frantically. “What do you think is wrong with him?” 

“We don’t know, Fab,” was the only response Remus had been able to give, with a helpless look at Regulus.

“You don’t think he’s seen something?” the freckled man had pressed. Then he had blanched white as another thought struck him. “Merlin, you don’t think someone has threatened him?!”

Remus had winced at that. 

“We don’t know, Fab,” he had repeated. “He’s probably just…frightened, that’s all. We just thought you should know.”

The redhead had inhaled shakily, going silent for a moment. Then - 

“I’m coming up to the castle again.”

“No you’re not ,” Regulus had retorted sharply, fear leaping up inside him, searing his chest like a flame.

Fabian had glared at him then, for the first time he could remember. 

“Bloody hell, Regulus, we are talking about my nephew here, and if you think I’m gonna let anything happen to him on my watch -”

“I know you don’t want anything to happen to him,” he had interjected, staring defiantly back at him. “I know that. But he seems…delicate, right now. And I just don’t think that you coming to hover over him and ask him questions is going to help anything. He’ll probably just get more anxious, knowing that he’s worrying you. If you come up to the castle…I think it will make things worse, Fabian.” 

He had deflated at that, looking for a moment almost as small and lost as he had done after his twin’s death. Regulus had felt something deep inside him shatter at the sight. 

“Look,” he had said, more gently, taking a deep breath, “Remus and I will be keeping an eye on him, alright? We’ll let you know, if it looks like he needs you. And the two of us will do our best to take care of him in the meantime. I promise.” 

“But -”

“Please, Fabian,” Regulus had pleaded, his voice cracking slightly, “ please just listen. For me.” 

Grey eyes had tangled with blue for a moment. Finally, Fabian had nodded. 

“Alright,” he had whispered. “Alright. I trust you, Regulus.” 

And those words had shattered him just a little bit more - because he was lying to the other man, and he knew it. Remus knew it, too, judging by the swift glance he had darted at him, although thankfully he hadn’t said anything. Or at least, it was partially a lie - he did think that his uncle’s panic would only frighten Bill Weasley more. But that wasn’t the main reason that Regulus wanted him to stay out of Hogwarts. 

He couldn’t have said exactly how, but he knew, instinctively, that the situation was worsening, becoming deeper and darker than any of them had ever imagined, any control they’d ever had swiftly slipping through their fingers. And he would not have either Fabian or Sirius nearby when the world, inevitably, broke open. Not if he could help it. 

The lie had been a necessary one. 

And tonight, in Remus’s office, staring down at the Map, Regulus feels ice spreading through his veins, a freezing, biting certainty that his instinct had been correct. 

“ Merlin,” he whispers hoarsely.

“What?” Remus asks quickly, just as on edge as he is, at his side in seconds. 

“Look.” 

He points at the Map. It’s very nearly midnight, and almost every student is in their dormitories, probably too fearful to break curfew even if they were allowed to. 

But Bill Weasley’s name is alone, again, in the middle of a corridor - a second-floor corridor, to be precise. This time, though, he doesn’t seem to be sitting still, but making his way towards the bathroom haunted by Moaning Myrtle - the girl who had been killed by the basilisk forty years ago, Regulus remembers suddenly. 

“He’s going to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom…?” Remus asks, bewildered. A look of dawning horror crosses his face. “Wait…didn’t Dumbledore say that Myrtle was the girl who was killed? Last time?” 

“Yeah. He did,” Regulus responds shakily. 

Remus swallows, still gazing down at the Map.

“He isn’t moving…normally,” he mutters. “It almost looks like he’s…”

“Being pulled?” Regulus supplies.

The scarred man looks up at him, hazel eyes wide with fear. 

“Yeah. But that doesn’t make any sense - there’s nobody else with him.” 

Regulus can feel all the hairs rising on the back of his neck. He doesn’t know what’s going on…he just knows that something is very, very wrong.

“Right, let’s go,” he says abruptly, standing upright and picking up his wand as he tucks the Map into his cloak. 

Remus takes a shaky breath. 

“Do you think we should get Sirius and Fab?” he asks croakily. 

Regulus feels his heart stutter in his chest, almost painfully. 

“ No,” he says, more sharply than he’d intended. Remus blinks at him. “We don’t - we might not have time to wait for them,” he adds, trying to explain himself. “And we don’t bloody want those two wandering around this place if we can avoid it, remember?” 

“But -”

“Just send them a Patronus, for Merlin’s sake, Lupin,” he says brusquely, his voice cracking - he doesn’t have any emotional space left to deal with those two right now. “You can tell them where we’re going.” 

Remus nods, scarred face pale but set. He mutters something under his breath; a moment later, the silvery wolf bursts out of his wand, soaring out the window and away across the grounds. 

“Alright,” he says, taking a deep breath as he turns back to Regulus. “Let’s go.” 

A few minutes later, feeling more than a little breathless, Regulus shoves open the heavy door of the second-floor bathroom, Remus close at his heels. As they walk in, he catches a glimpse of flickering candlelight, reflected eerily in the large, cracked and spotted mirror on the wall. He turns.

“Bill -” he starts to say - but his voice dies in his throat as he takes in the sight in front of him. 

Little Bill Weasley doesn’t even seem to have registered their arrival. He is stumbling unsteadily towards the huge, chipped and old-fashioned sinks in the middle of the room. Regulus has seen a lot of unnerving things in his life, but he’s not sure that anything else has made his breath catch and freeze in his throat quite like this. It really does look as though the boy isn’t walking forwards of his own accord, but rather being pulled, none too gently, by something they can’t see. 

The child is crying and shaking, pale as a sheet - and Regulus realises, suddenly, that he has something clutched in his hand. A small, nondescript book, bound in black leather. For some reason, the sight of it makes Regulus’s hair stand on end more than anything else. 

“No…please,” Bill gasps, between frightened sobs. He still seems completely unaware of them; Regulus can’t think who he’s talking to. “I…I don’t want to…don’t make me…I won’t do it…”

“Oh, you will do it,” a strange, cold voice hisses suddenly, seeming to echo through the gloomy bathroom. Regulus feels frozen to the spot. He thought he saw Bill’s mouth move again. He could have sworn that same, icy voice had come from the boy too, somehow. “And you will do it now, William Weasley.” 

Bill seems to be rooted to the spot in front of those old, chipped sinks. The copper taps seem to be carved in the shape of snakes, Regulus realises distantly. And then Bill is making a strange, chilling, inhuman hissing sound. 

Regulus feels ice spreading through his veins, freezing him from the inside out, as the eyes on the copper snakes suddenly light up, glowing, dazzling in the gloom. He watches, his heart lodged in his throat, unable to believe his eyes, sensing Remus just as frozen at his side, as the huge old-fashioned sinks split down the middle, the pieces sliding apart to reveal a gaping dark hole in the bathroom floor. The entrance to a tunnel. 

“No…no… please !” Bill begs, sobbing desperately, his voice his own again. 

A moment later, he falls, without warning, face first into the dark hole, as suddenly and violently as though an invisible hand had shoved him. 

Regulus cries out in shock, Remus doing the same at his side, and both of them run forwards, seeming to regain the use of their legs…but too late. The mouth of the tunnel is already closing again, the pieces of the sink gliding smoothly back together with a loud click. 

“Shit, shit!” Remus swears, his expression desperate. Regulus can see the tear tracks on his face. “What the hell is wrong with us, why didn’t we move?” 

“I…I don’t think I could,” Regulus answers shakily.

“Me neither,” Remus whispers, trembling. He runs a hand over his face. “Fuck. fuck.” 

He kicks the base of the sink. Predictably, nothing happens. 

“ Well?” he demands, turning to stare expectantly at Regulus, as though he’s supposed to have the answers. “What do we do? There was something he - or, I dunno, whoever the hell that was - said to trigger it, right?”

“Yeah,” Regulus mutters, struggling to breathe, to think clearly. He stares down at the innocuous-looking copper snakes, coiled on the sides of the tap. “I think…I think it must have been Parseltongue.”

“Right,” Remus says, sounding more than a little hysterical. He pauses. “I don’t suppose your family can -”

“No,” Regulus says sharply. Remus winces. “Just because most of us are Slytherins, it doesn’t mean we’ve been gifted with magical snake language, Lupin. I expect Sirius would have told you if he was a Parselmouth by now, even if I hadn’t. Anyway, I’d probably have been able to hear the basilisk moving around the place, if I could speak it.” 

“Right,” Remus mutters again. He looks blankly down at the copper snakes, too. “Well, d’you think we could maybe…I don’t know, try and copy what Bill said?” 

Regulus swallows.

“Maybe. Worth a try, I suppose.” 

He thinks hard, trying to remember the exact sounds that the boy had made a few moments ago. It doesn’t help that everything that’s happened since they walked into this bathroom seems so surreal, blurred together, disjointed, like scenes from a nightmare. 

He takes a deep breath, and tries to mimic the sounds. Nothing happens. Remus tries, and tries again, his tone seeping with desperate frustration. Still, the sink remains stubbornly still, the copper snakes completely inanimate. 

Regulus closes his eyes for a moment before fixing his stare on the tiny copper snake, focusing harder than he’s ever done before on remembering the sounds Bill had made. He tilts his head a little, so that the copper snake almost looks like it’s moving in the low glow of the candlelight. 

“Hesss haaaarr saaaa,” he breathes, feeling utterly ridiculous. But the sounds had been so bizarre, so inhuman, it’s the closest approximation he can manage. 

And then, finally, the snake’s tiny jewel eyes illuminate again, the light almost blinding at this proximity. Regulus and Remus both throw up their hands to shield their eyes, and as the light dims, they see the outline of the sink splitting down the middle again, gliding apart once more to reveal the hole in the floor. 

“Lumos,” they whisper together, pointing their lit wands down into the tunnel. Nothing but a gaping stretch of darkness. 

They look up at each other, Regulus’s heart pounding deafeningly as he sees the terror on Remus’s pale face. He probably looks just as bad. 

“Shall we, then?” Remus whispers.

Regulus swallows and nods, ignoring every instinct inside him that’s screaming at him to run away from this macabre scene as fast as his legs can carry him.

“No time like the present, I suppose.” 

His legs trembling slightly, Regulus crouches down and, taking a deep breath, slides himself into the tunnel, Remus right behind him.

He sucks in a gasp as the air rushes past him, roaring in his ears and slapping against his face like cold hands that he can’t see. It’s almost pitch dark around him, he can’t see anything except for the tiny pinpricks of light from their wands, shuddering and twitching as they gain momentum. It’s terrifying, and there’s a scream building at the back of his throat - but then, mere seconds later, it’s over and he’s hit the ground hard. He tries to get his bearings, get his breath back; but it doesn’t help that Remus lands on top of him with a grunt a moment later, sending him sprawling and knocking the wind out of him. 

“Oh god - sorry ,” the other man groans, hoisting himself up shakily and holding a hand out apologetically. “I didn’t mean to…did I hurt you, Regulus?” 

Regulus rolls his eyes with a huff, trying to cover his fear as Remus pulls him to his feet. 

“I’m fine. I think you’re a little bit too bony to crush anyone, Remus.”

“Bit rich coming from you, Reg,” he shoots back, but his voice is rather too shaky for his sarcasm to make any kind of dent. 

Instinctively, the two of them edge closer to each other, casting their wand light frantically around. Regulus can see where the darkness begins to thin, perhaps a mile or two ahead of them. 

“Fuck,” Remus mutters. “We must be hundreds of miles under the castle.” He swallows. “How exactly are we planning to get back out?” 

Regulus swallows, heart pounding somewhere in his throat. He shrugs, trying his best to look as though he isn’t too concerned, though he knows Remus will see right through him.

“Well, we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it, I s’pose,” he replies. 

Tentatively, he begins to trudge forwards, still casting the light of his wand around in every direction; he can see the reflection of Remus’s wand behind him. They walk in silence, their footsteps making a strange echoing, rustling sound. As Regulus takes another step, a loud, sharp snap suddenly echoes around the tunnel, and both of them jump violently, pointing their wands down to illuminate the ground. 

The source of the snapping noise , it turns out, is a small animal skull Regulus has just stepped on - a rat’s, maybe? The ground around them is absolutely littered with bones, he sees - and then his wand light catches on something that glistens slightly. Scales… 

“Fuck,” Remus says again, with feeling, as he focuses the light of his wand on it too. It’s the discarded skin of a snake - and it stretches along the tunnel, seemingly endless.

“Whatever shed that must have been about fifty bloody feet long,” Remus whispers. 

Regulus swallows, wondering vaguely if his heart is just going to give out before they even find Bill. 

“Any sign of movement, close your eyes straight away,” he mutters.

“Yeah, no shit, Reg,” Remus replies, with a slightly hysterical laugh.

Regulus ignores him, forcing himself to keep walking, squinting so that his eyes are only open the tiniest sliver. The two of them lapse into silence again as they walk. Regulus’s brain feels so clouded with terror that he completely loses grip on his sense of time. The darkness finally begins to thin, but he has no idea how long they’ve been walking; could be minutes, could be hours. 

Finally, they stop, the tunnel coming to an end in front of a huge, circular silver door. There doesn’t seem to be any handle, as far as Regulus can see - instead, there’s a pattern of seven intricately detailed snakes carved into the silver, some coiled in the corners, some stretching across the door. 

“What now?” Remus whispers, as their wand light shimmers and dances across the carved snakes. 

“Same deal as the bathroom sink, I’m guessing,” Regulus whispers back, his voice cracking, fear swelling in his throat like poison, suffocating him. 

He takes a deep breath, and then focuses closely on the snake pattern, trying to make exactly the same bizarre hissing sounds he’d made before. 

He gets it on the first try this time, though he’s hardly relieved by that; the sound of the metal snakes coiling inwards one by one is deafening, clanging and echoing around the dark tunnel, scraping his nerves even rawer. Finally, the circular door swings open on its hinges, and they catch a glimpse of the long, vast chamber beyond. 

Breathing hard, Regulus turns to look at his friend. Remus takes a deep, shaky breath, and nods. They step over the threshold of the circular door, wands out, shoulder to shoulder. 

Regulus can feel himself shaking as he looks around. 

The room they’re in is brighter than the tunnel, though still gloomy, and it’s so cold that they can see their breath fogging in front of them. The space is so tall and vast that when he looks up, he has to crane his neck to catch a glimpse of the ceiling. 

There are snake statues dotted all along the walls at regular intervals on either side of them - and at the far end of the Chamber is a huge statue of a man, with a wide, gaping mouth, a tangled mass of stone snakes forming his long hair and beard. Regulus has seen that face enough, both in portraits at Grimmauld Place and in busts in the common room, that he’d recognise it anywhere. Salazar Slytherin. 

So , he muses, dazed. Apparently the Chamber of Secrets isn’t just a myth, after all. 

“Oh my god,” Remus mutters, staring not at the statue’s huge face, but down at its feet. 

Regulus follows his gaze, and sucks in a horrified gasp. 

There’s a small body lying on the ground at Slytherin’s feet, looking even more hopelessly tiny and vulnerable next to the vastness of the statue and the Chamber. A boy with flaming red hair, like his uncle’s. Bill Weasley, lying still and deathly pale on the ground, with the little black leather bound book that Regulus had seen him carrying before now splayed open at his side. 

Together, he and Remus run over to Bill, kneeling down at his side. His eyes are closed, not the slightest hint of colour in his cheeks, and for a moment Regulus’s whole brain seems to jam in terror, wondering if they’re too late. And he had persuaded Fabian not to come to the castle…

Dazed, feeling like the world is crumbling away as they kneel on this freezing stone floor, Regulus’s gaze wanders to the little black book, the hairs on his neck standing up again. It’s fallen open to show the inside cover, and he glimpses a name written there in beautiful calligraphy.

Tom Marvolo Riddle. 

“Bill… Bill …” Remus mutters, shaking the boy’s shoulder frantically. Regulus almost starts crying when he hears the desperation in his friend’s voice. “Wake up, god, please wake up…”

“Oh, he won’t wake,” says a cold, unfamiliar and very self-satisfied voice. 

Regulus feels his heart stop beating for a moment, freezing in his chest as he leaps to his feet. Hastily, he draws his wand; at the same moment, he hears a small gasp of horror next to him. He glances briefly at Remus, who has just reached for his own wand - but he doesn’t have it. 

The stranger is already right next to them, though his footsteps hadn’t seemed to make any sound at all as he’d approached. A teenage boy, about sixteen at most, tall, dark-haired, pale and handsome. He seems strangely blurred around the edges, almost as if Regulus is looking at him through a misty, translucent window.

The stranger’s dark eyes rove over the pair of them, an amused smile on his face, as he twirls Remus’s wand between his long fingers.