(10)

Dumbledore was pacing in the Headmaster's office.

His phoenix was overdue for a burning and Regulus's ghost stared at the poor dying bird in horror as it gasped smoke. 

"Can't you help him?" Regulus asked. "Isn't there something you can do to make it easier for him to start his burning?"

Dumbledore was muttering to himself, and didn't even pause to look at the bird. "He will burn when it is time."

"It just looks so painful," Regulus whispered. He wished he could pet the bird, nuzzle it's beak a bit with his finger, and tell it that it would be alright. But every time he tried to touch any living thing it shivered with the cold of death instead of being comforted. So he'd learned not to try.

"He is quite well, Master Regulus."

Regulus stared at Dumbledore. "He doesn't look quite well, sir."

(11)

"He really is getting more transparent," James said.

Regulus was as close to the edge of the water as he dared to go, his hands in his pockets, staring out toward the horizon. The sunset was happening and the way the light was reflecting off the water in front of him made his form seem shimmery as though the opacity was turned way down, less than fifty percent of what he'd been when James had first laid eyes on him across the sands.

"This is what happens when the soul cannot find rest, Mr. Potter," Mopsus said. "Each time he's drawn back into the world of the living, he loses a bit more of his energy."

"What about you? Why haven't you grown transparent?" James asked, looking at the Blind Seer.

Mopsus's mouth twisted in what James could only describe as the saddest smile he'd ever seen in all of his life. It was a crooked one - one side lifted a bit more than the other, and Mopsus let out a breath of a laugh, "I'm afraid that I haven't had a soul in ages."

James looked back at Regulus - something about the look on Mopsus's face unnerved him. Perhaps because it looked a bit too much like himself in a mirror on the days when he thought too much about artefacts and timelines.

"Is that what happens? You run out of soul?" he asked.

"Eventually," Mopsus replied.

"He needs rest."

"Yes he does, Mr. Potter," Mopsus answered, and he sounded so tired as he said it that James wondered if the Blind Seer was speaking of Regulus or of himself.

(12)

He tried not answering when Dumbledore asked questions, hoping that a lack of response would drive Dumbledore to seek answers elsewhere. He hovered about in the Headmaster's office, ignoring the old man and staring at the glow of his watch. It was turning on more often these days without him pressing the button himself and he didn't understand why...

Dumbledore was talking to one of the portraits instead of him anyway, so it was fairly easy to ignore him. 

Until --

"...and tell Sirius that the Order will be arriving at six o'clock this evening to discuss --"

"Sirius?" Regulus had turned over and came near, the cold shoulder he'd been giving Dumbledore for the past two summons completely forgotten about. He looked hopeful. "Is Sirius coming?"

Dumbledore stopped mid-sentence and the portrait on the wall looked at the ghost and an expression of surprise came over him. "Regulus?" the portrait said, incredulous.

"Go! Away with you, Phineas, you've a task..." and Dumbledore waved his palms.

"Wait!" Regulus yelled, and the portrait waited. "Wait, I - you're - you're going where Sirius is? Tell him Regulus says - tell him Regulus is sorry! Tell him - tell him I love him so much and that I'm so sorry for - for everything! And tell him - tell him --"

But Dumbledore waved his palm and Regulus was silenced, though his mouth kept moving, he couldn't make a sound and the portrait stared, gape-mouthed at him, then looked at Dumbledore with a curious expression. Another wave of the palm... and the expression left the portrait... and he settled into the seat he'd been painted in, and simply fell asleep.

Regulus's face streamed with silent, frustrated tears that Dumbledore looked directly upon... and then turned away from with a benign expression of carefully calculated disinterest.

He let Regulus brood in his madness and refused to look up again until many hours later, and then he simply sent him away, back to his beach.

(13)

Mopsus stood beside James Potter on Regulus's beach.

Regulus lay in the sand far off, on his back, staring up at the sky without moving. His arm was stretched up in an arch over his face and he was staring at his watch... waiting for it to light up.

James pressed the button and watched the glow on the physical watch in his hand light up... echoed by a soft glow of the one on Regulus's wrist.

Regulus sat up, cradling his arm as James pressed the button again... the glow on the watch seemed to comfort Regulus, and he watched as Regulus ran his fingers over the watch on his wrist... and whispered something to it that, from this distance across the beach, James could not hear.

James didn't know if Regulus was getting the message he was trying to convey with the glow or not, but he hoped that Regulus knew by it that somebody was saying they saw him... and that he wasn't as transparent as he was feeling...

Watching, James had been getting more and more angry, his fists balled, his teeth grit, his face twisted into a grimmace.

Thunder rolled in the distance, a great black cloud far off over the sea, and lightening flashed...

"This isn't right," James said. "It isn't right what Dumbledore is doing to him.... This is sick. This is the most disgusting, manipulative, foul thing I've ever witnessed - and that includes all the horrible things I've seen Voldemort do... This is worse because Dumbledore -- he --" James didn't know how to put words on his feelings. "He's Dumbledore."

The betrayal he was feeling in his heart, the way his nerves trembled through his entire body... It was terrible... and all he could think about was Underhill, the auror who had been his boss at the Ministry when he'd been in the Training Program... He remembered the day he quit, Underhill telling him to beware of Albus Dumbledore... and James thought how he'd thought Underhill mad because who would ever question Dumbledore's goodness? Who could ever accuse Dumbledore of anything but greatness? But here he was, seeing another side to the Headmaster... and it was making him sick how little he had suspected it and how disgusting the other side was...

(14)

The next time Dumbledore turned the Resurrection Stone, Regulus tried not to go. He tried to will himself to stay on his beach, but the stone was given power over the dead and he could not resist the summons.

Regulus went screaming from the beach.

James couldn't take anymore.

"I have to do something."

Mopsus replied, "Nothing is stopping you, James."

James looked at Mopsus.

"Do something," Mopsus said.

James drew his wand.

Broken instruments lay all over the floor of Dumbledore's office.

Tiny cogs and shards of broken glass lay, scattered on the floor, glittering like the dust of diamonds. The silence of the Headmaster's office after the display of anger that had just been taken out upon it hung so heavy and tangible that even the ghost could feel it when he appeared.

Regulus came in screaming from the beach, but he stopped in the weight of the air in the room.

He looked around in shock for the brokenness of the room now was what he had wanted to do the last time he was here and there was something satisfying in seeing that someone had done it, that the precious instruments were strewn about, that the mirrors were smashed, that the papers with his handwriting and the pictures he'd stolen and the maps and diagrams he'd drawn so long ago were strewn about the room, blowing around in a breeze that came through the open balcony doors.

Dumbledore was standing in the doors, back-to the office, the Resurrection Stone hovering just over his palm.

"Good evening, Mr. Black," Dumbledore's voice was even, despite the horrendous mess.

"What happened?" Regulus asked.

Dumbledore was silent for several long moments, and then he turned slowly about.

The old man looked tired... nearly as tired and thin-stretched as Regulus felt these days.

"Something terrible," Dumbledore said quietly, "Which I shall not tell you about, as it would only upset you further than I can already tell that you are feeling. However, I have summoned you here to - to prepare you that I shall be needing you now more than ever... and not only I, but another, who shall be coming along side me to assist in completing the work that you started fourteen years ago --"

"Fourteen years?" Regulus whispered. It was the first time he'd heard how long he had been dead for.... the number was dizzying. It seemed like hours and decades all at once, and Regulus felt heavier than ever.

"Yes. Fourteen years. And at last, I have decided that I am ready to begin the search for the horcruxes." 

Regulus was quiet for along moment. He stared down, his mind working triply hard to process the sentence that Dumbldore had just spoken. "Wait... wait, wait, wait. Hang on just a second. Hang on. Begin the search?" he asked after a moment, "What do you mean begin the search? What have you been doing all this time?"

"Collecting the information necessary to --"

"YOU HAVE BEEN DOING THIS FOR - FOR FOURTEEN YEARS!" Regulus shouted. "FOURTEEN YEARS, DUMBLEDORE! AND YOU HAVEN'T EVEN --" Regulus's voice shook. He cut himself off. "I've been dead for FOURTEEN YEARS... and ... you -- haven't -- you haven't even STARTED YET?"

"Starting before one is prepared --"

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE HIM DEAD FOURTEEN YEARS AGO! THAT IS WHY I DIED! I DIED DESTROYING THE LOCKET! I know we figured out that it was only the first one - I know, I know there were others, but the diary, that's been destroyed too, now, and you have the ring - GOD DO I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE THE BLASTED RING, DON'T I?" Regulus shook his head, "You fucking FOOL! Fourteen years you've WASTED? AND WHAT HAS VOLDEMORT BEEN DOING THESE FOURTEEN YEARS? HOW MANY LIVES HAVE YOU FORFEITED BY NOT GETTING OFF YOUR DAMN ARSE AND --"

Dumbledore's face was positively livid and with a brush of his arm the bits and pieces of his instruments went flying through the room in a whirlwind, a rush of noise like a thousand horses running filled the room as the bits and pieces swirled about in a terrible vortex of power that swept about the room.

"I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU, YOU OLD FOOL - WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? KILL ME?" And Regulus laughed a terrible laugh of one that has nothing else to lose, "OBLITERATE ME? GO ON AND DO IT THEN! I DON'T CARE ANYMORE! AT LEAST I'LL FINALLY GET SOME REST IF YOU DO!"

And Dumbledore, glowering so ferociously ominous that he seemed to take up the entire room.

"You dare to speak to me that way tonight, of all nights, when I am in possession of all three pieces of the Deathly Hallows, when I am the most powerful wizard in all of time, when I have the keys to life and death and everything in between because of the these three hallows..." and Dumbledore, keeping the stone hovering above his palm, drew his wand with his other hand, and he started toward the chair before his desk, where a cloak lay... left behind by accident by it's owner, the cloak hung over the arm of the chair... Dumbledore waved his wand, "Accio Cloak," he said in a hiss and the cloak rose up and --

James Potter grabbed hold on it before it could soar across the room to Dumbledore.

The look of shock on Dumbledore's face ---

The vortex of broken instruments fell to the ground like rain, and the sound of the bits and pieces showering down was like a full-on rainstorm, musical as the power went out of it. James raised an elbow to keep the bits from flying at his face, and he clutched the cloak tightly in his fist and stepped between the hovering form of Regulus Black's ghost and Dumbledore in all of his anger, all of his ferocity. 

"CALM DOWN!" James shouted.

What a stupid thing to say, James thought the moment the words were out of his mouth, like something you ought to yell at a child. But that was what he'd said, and there was no taking it back, so to make the moment a bit more impressive than his choice of words, he waved his wand so that a great cracking sound broke through the office and the floor beneath him shook with the bang of it. It was a spell that Remus had found and used often during battles, and he had shown James how to do it. "It's just a simple firecracker charm that makes a terrific noise, really... But it's most excellent for gaining attention without really doing much of anything," Remus had said, "Shuts people right up, usually. Something about a big sound like that makes people think you have control, even when you don't feel like you do."

And it had worked.

Dumbledore stared, completely speechless.

James could feel Regulus's presence behind him, and he moved into a protective stance, ready to fight.

James looked at the cloak in his hand. It was his own invisibility cloak. "This is not yours," he said firmly.

Dumbledore's face turned from shock to anger.

"Who let you in here?" he he demanded.

James squared his shoulders. "What kind of question is that?" he asked.

Dumbledore said, "Go back to your dormitory. Now."

James laughed, "My - my dormitory? Are you mad? I haven't got a dormitory..." He stared into Dumbledore's eyes. "What're you gonna do, old man, give me a detention?"

Dumbledore's jaw dropped, "Wait... You - you're not --" he breathed, and his eyes squinted, staring directly back into James's brown eyes. "James?"

"Yeah James, who else?" Not letting Dumbledore answer, James pointed behind him in the direction of Regulus, "You leave him alone. You stop! You stop manipulating him, stop treating him like he's some possession you can just pick up and toy about with whenever you want. I'll be the first one to admit that I don't understand everything going on here - there's a great deal of it that I don't understand, actually - but what I do understand is that this boy's life has been nothing but one horrid person after another lining up and having a go at him... He's been mistreated enough already, how DARE YOU mistreat him more."

Dumbledore looked actually shook by these words... and he looked at the stone hovering over his hand with horror.

James held out his palm. "Give it here, Dumbledore. You're done using that thing to torture Regulus Black."

"Regulus Black?" Dumbledore looked confused a moment, then he looked at the stone in his palm, and back at James. Dumbledore took a step backwards, drawing the hand with the stone hovering above it closer to his chest. 

Dumbledore's voice was barely above a whisper. "You can't have it."

"Don't make me take it from you." 

Dumbledore closed his fingers around it protectively. 

James raised his wand.

Dumbledore raised his as well.

"ACCIO!" James shouted and Dumbledore threw up a blocking charm, which cracked as James's summoning spell struck it. The magic hissed as the block disappeared and James took a step closer. "Give me the stone."

Dumbledore waved his wand and a spray of the instrument pieces flew toward James, and he ducked them as Dumbledore backed away. 

"Expelliarmus!"

James's wand flew out of his hand and landed on the floor at Dumbledore's feet.

Then, with a sudden yanking motion, the invisibility cloak was torn from James's hand and flew to Dumbledore's. Dumbledore stood there, holding all three things in his hands and in that moment, something happened in Dumbledore's eyes that James was never able to quite describe, even in his own mind, for it was like a man holding up a trophy and realizing that it had not solved all his troubles, something like elation meeting the most terrible let-down that one had ever felt, and for a moment Dumbledore seemed simultaneously on top of the world and also fully under the weight of it.

"No," Regulus gasped.

James didn't understand the significance of what he was seeing, but Regulus did. All James knew was that from the gasp Regulus gave, what he was seeing was not good.

And there was James - facing the most powerful wizard in the world - without his wand.

James stared at Dumbledore... and a deep, indescribable instinct welled up in James Potter.

Regulus Black deserved better.

And if it killed him to see to it that he got it, James would take the fall.

So James lunged forward.

He roared, a sound that grew out of his chest as he ran, and he grabbed hold of Dumbledore's arm, grabbed hold of his hand, trying to take the stone away and Dumbledore's fist closed tight around the stone and there was a terrible sound - a terrible, terrible sound unlike anything that could ever be described.

James thought it sounded a bit like bells and cymbals and gongs all ringing at once at top volume but so much more terrible...

And Dumbledore let out a scream.

Power blew James backwards onto the ground.

He scrambled on his back, his hand catching his wand as he went, though he had no doubt that the wand was useless against what was happening.

Dumbledore's hand - the one closed around the stone - was bright white - as white as though it were a hot poker fresh pulled from a fiery kiln and the scream drew on and on and on and Dumbledore raised his arm up as power vibrated from him, the light so bright James had to close his eyes and turn his face away.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the blast ended and Dumbledore fell to the floor, the room suddenly immensely dark and silent and James looked about - Regulus was gone, and Dumbledore lay on the floor in a heap, whimpering and cradling his hand, which was no longer white bit pitch black - as black as death - and he had dropped the stone onto the floor.

James didn't dare to touch it.

He backed further away from it, staring at it, staring at Dumbledore, his heart pounding in his ears and his breath caught in his throat.

"Sir --?" his voice shook.

But Dumbledore did not speak, he simply held his hand in his arm, staring down at it with tears in his eyes.

"I'm s - sorry," Dumbledore whispered, voice trembling. "I'm s - sorry for all I've done."

James stared at Dumbledore, unsure what to say or think or do or anything. I'm sorry didn't seem like enough, yet there was something about the utter brokenness of Dumbledore's voice as he spoke the words - and the terrifically horrid sight of his shriveled, blackened hand - that made James believe that Albus Dumbledore truly, completely meant it.

James said the only thing he could think of at the moment.

"You ought to be."

Dumbledore nodded, tears pouring over his face.

James added, rather lamely, "Do better."

Dumbledore closed his eyes.

And a hand closed on James's shoulder... and the office was gone... and he was back on Regulus's beach.