The Story of Regulus Black - Years 5-7

XCVII. Twenty Hours: Part III

CW: referenced/implied child abuse and alcoholism

Albus Dumbledore's office was silent, undisturbed since the Headmaster had left for France all those days ago.

All of his trinkets were carefully organized on their shelves, the most dangerous objects hidden behind thick sheets of glass that were designed to go unbroken by even the strongest of spells. Papers sat in piles across his desk, organized into neat stacks and ready to be throughly sorted when Dumbledore returned with the rest of the students. Fawkes was missing from the room, using Dumbledore's absence as an excuse to get far more fresh air than he normally might. The finale dregs of moonlight streamed through the windows, stars shimmering through the small glass dome that protruded from the roof, looking into the office and viewing all of the nefarious activities that went on inside; the things that Albus Dumbledore didn't want the rest of the world to see. The research, the conversations, the plots that he had always hoped would lead to the downfall of those who he deemed fit for such a fate.

It was those very stars that watched as two boys made their entrance, moving so cautiously that it was as though they thought an alarm would go off at any second. They entered the room and shut the door quietly behind themselves, looking around the room as though they were unsure of where to start. The stars watched, they observed, and they hoped that these boys weren't simply setting themselves up for the next plot that Albus Dumbledore decided to concoct.

Regulus Black looked through the glass in the roof, stared at the stars, and he sighed quietly. It was almost unfair, a taunt created by the gods themselves, how free the stars were compared to how trapped the boy named after them had become. He would never understand how there could be such a vast juxtaposition, how the boy named after one of the brightest stars could become so dim.

Though, when he looked at Sirius, he could very easily come to the conclusion that the names did have some sort of merit. After all, he always had been quite a bit brighter than Regulus. Regulus only became bright when Sirius had left the picture, when the comparison was out of the window and their options had been narrowed; overlooked until he became the very last option and they couldn't possibly overlook him any longer.

"Stop stargazing, Black," Deacon suddenly stated, and Regulus looked up as he blinked in surprise at the fact that he had spoken at all. He hadn't realized how invested he had gotten into the sky, into the small white dots that peppered the dark blue canvas, but he had always been one to become so lost in thought that reality itself seemed to bend around him. "We have something to find, remember?" Deacon gestured to Regulus's pocket where he was still carefully cradling the vial of memories in his palm. "So get on with it. Where did you see it?"

Regulus looked around the room, staring into glass cabinets and looking at the wooden doors beneath as he tried to remember which one had previously held the Pencieve that they were searching for. It had been years ago, so long ago that Regulus wasn't even entirely sure that Dumbledore still had it. Though, even then, he knew that it was their only shot; if they didn't see what the memories contained, didn't confirm nor deny whether or not they had anything to do with the book at all, then Barty would die. And Regulus would do just about anything in the world to prevent that from happening.

His eyes landed on a particular cupboard, one whose doors were shut in comparison to the others who were all primarily open. He furrowed his brow and took a step toward it before pausing, glancing at Dumbledore's desk and deciding the best course of action to take. He stepped toward the desk and stood directly between the two chairs that sat on the side across from Dumbledore's. Deacon watched him curiously, unsure what Regulus was doing or what it was supposed to help.

Regulus walked a straight line from the desk to the door, glancing to his left and stopping abruptly before he left the room completely. He turned toward Deacon quickly, pointing toward the cabinet that he had been suspecting. "It's that one," he said with finality, and he rushed toward the cabinet with Deacon on his heels.