The Killing of Regulus Black

Chapter Six

"Go right in, Chief," the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron said when Moody arrived. "The Professor said he'd be a few minutes."

"Same parlor?" Moody asked.

"Professor Dumbledore maintains a standing reservation. I see to it that the room is clear whenever he needs it."

That had to cost the Headmaster a Knut or two, Moody thought. "Send me back a pint of ale, will you, Tom?"

"Certainly, sir."

Moody made his way back to the cozy, dark parlor, and the ale occupied some fifteen minutes of his time before Dumbledore arrived.

Time enough to ruminate over the Order's latest failure. Moody hadn't had the time yesterday, after a couple of Muggle kids had discovered Regulus Black's body in a alley off Grimmauld Place. The boys had seen the Dark Mark floating above the alley and had gone in expecting to find friends of theirs setting off some new kind of fireworks.

There'd been fireworks, all right. A team of Aurors and Obliviators had spent all day putting them out. Moody himself had spent the day at Grimmauld Place, at the scene and at Number Twelve.

He'd spent much of the night at the morgue, with Althea and Orion Black. Before they'd identified their son Regulus, during the identification, and afterward.

Sirius Black was due in from Germany that night. Moody had planned on going with Sirius and his school friends--all decent chaps in a tight spot, even the runty one, Pettigrew--to Grimmauld Place, to take Regulus into protection.

Orion would meet Sirius instead, for the first time in years, to tell his estranged elder son that his beloved younger son was dead.

Bit of a change in plans, that.

Dumbledore appeared at the parlor door with Apothecary Snape. After they'd stepped over the threshold, Snape snatched his hand away from Dumbledore and let it drop to his side. It looked to Moody as though he had been leaning on Dumbledore's arm.

He needed somebody's arm, Moody thought. The fellow had been pale and skinny enough a week ago. Today he looked like death warmed over.

Dumbledore closed the parlor door. Then he pulled a chair out for Snape, who, moving slower than a wizard much older than Dumbledore, sat down. Dumbledore sat down beside him, across from Moody.

"I'll stand you a beer, Snape," Moody said, feeling sorry for him. "Though maybe it's a dose of your own potion you need."

"No, thank you," Snape said. His voice was soft, but steady.

"An excellent suggestion, Alastor. I have already given Severus a potion. And after we are done here, I shall accompany him home," Dumbledore said.

Moody looked from one to the other. Dumbledore's expression was quietly unreadable. Snape, trembling slightly, stared at the tabletop.

"Glad to hear it," Moody said. He drank the last of his ale and set the tankard down. "So. Our first biweekly report."

"Severus will give it," Dumbledore said. "But allow him some time. We have just come from St. Mungo's, where I removed a large infusion of Voldemort's power from his magical heart."

Moody leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "I've got time."

Snape took his time, and not only because he was worn out. He told a convoluted story in a halting voice, of how he and Lucius Malfoy had gone to Grimmauld Place and very nearly talked Regulus Black into leaving the safety of his home and returning with them to Lord Voldemort.

Lucius Malfoy. Moody stifled a longing sigh. What he wouldn't give to be able to hand Lucius Malfoy over to Barty Crouch, to see the look on both their faces.

"But Black wouldn't come with us," Snape said in his strange, subdued voice.

Then he fell silent. Dumbledore let a good two minutes of that silence pass.

Snape and Malfoy were probably among the last people to see Black alive. So, following Dumbledore's lead, Moody waited in patient silence for Snape to continue.

"And what did you do about that?" Dumbledore finally asked.

The coolness in his voice startled Moody. He'd grown accustomed, in their last meeting, to hearing Dumbledore gently urge the truth out of Snape. This time, the kindly gaze and paternal tones were gone.

"I cast the Imperius Curse on Black," Snape said, almost inaudibly. Raising his head, he looked into Dumbledore's face. "I swear to you, Headmaster, if I'd known Malfoy meant to kill him--"

Moody sat up. "What's this?"

"Please believe me, I didn't know!"

There were people whom pleading didn't suit. Snape, his face gray and sweating, his voice cracking, was one of those people.

"I believe you, Severus," Dumbledore said wearily. "Please go on. Chief Moody is waiting."

Snape dropped his eyes again. "The Lord told me all he wanted was to talk to Black. Malfoy said the same. I had no reason to doubt either of them. So when we couldn't talk Black into coming with us, I used Imperius to persuade him."

"Wait up, mate. You're not supposed to be casting Unforgivable Curses. You're on our side now, remember?" Moody said.

"Malfoy wasn't strong enough to control Black. We both knew that."

Moody leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He stared at the curtain of black hair across from him.

"And did you have fun?" he asked.

Snape looked up. "What do you mean?"

But Moody saw the shock of comprehension in Snape's eyes. "You know what I mean. That feeling all three of the Unforgivable Curses give you. You own the other bloke, body and soul. You can command him and he won't object. You can torture him and he can't fight back. You want him dead, you lift your wand, you say a couple of words and pouf!" Moody waved his hands. "He's dead. Wonderful feeling, isn't it? Better than sex."

Snape stared at him. "I expect you know, don't you?"

Moody stared back. "Actually, I don't. Though sometimes I'd like to. So tell me, what's better? A great fuck? Or casting an Unforgivable Curse?"

"Casting an Unforgivable Curse," said Snape.

With an explosive sigh, Moody leaned back. He shook his head. He looked at Dumbledore and gestured to Snape. "And you say you trust him!"

"The only thing better is taking the Lord's power," Snape said. "And eating his death."

His voice was calm. And Moody, jerking around to look at him, saw a cold, steady glint in his eyes.

"It is what you want to hear," Snape said.

"It is what you must say, Severus, so long as you believe it," Dumbledore said, equally calmly.

The glint left Snape's eyes. He turned slowly to Dumbledore. "I do believe it, while he is rewarding me. But not after. Or why would I be here?"

"Do you want to give up?" Dumbledore asked.

And no wonder he asked it, Moody thought. Snape looked desolate.

"No." Snape rubbed his eyes exhaustedly, like an Auror coming off a long and dangerous shift. "I can't."

"I agree," Dumbledore said. "You can't."

Snape didn't answer. He didn't even look up. He put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands.

Dumbledore watched him in silence for a few moments. Then, sighing, he pulled his watch out of his pocket. He peered at its dozen hands and its spinning planets.

"It's late," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure you'd like to go home, Severus. And I need to be getting back to Hogwarts. End of term, you know. O.W.Ls. N.E.W.Ts. Hiring new staff for the next year." He slipped the watch back into his pocket and got to his feet. "I've an interview tomorrow. A new Divination teacher." He sighed again. "An absurd subject. For the most part." He looked down at Moody. "May I ask Tom to send you in some supper, Alastor?"

Moody rose, too. "No, thanks. I'll have a sandwich at the office. Parchment-work."

"Severus?" Dumbledore said gently.

Snape lowered his hands and looked up at Dumbledore. Then without a word, he stood up and went through the parlor door into the bar.

Moody laid a hand on Dumbledore's arm and cocked his head toward the open door. "You sure he's all right?" he muttered.

"No, he's not all right," Dumbledore said. "But I think he'll manage. And the Order needs him."

He was looking after Snape as he spoke. Like he was looking at a heavy load, Moody thought. Some burden he wasn't sure he had the strength to carry.

Dumbledore followed Snape into the bar. Moody looked through the parlor door at them, at Dumbledore laying his hand carefully on Snape's shoulder, saying something to him Moody couldn't hear.

Then Moody followed, too.

THE END