On Seducing Gods and Defying Death | Regulus Black

Chapter 3: The Safe House

The Order's safe house is charming. In a random house in a random countryside, we discuss death in a white cottage flanked by willow trees and ivy. A crumbling cobblestone path curls from the road to the front door. Wisteria hangs over the entry, purple petals dropping onto the wonky front steps.

I'm winded as I wade through the weighty enchantments keeping the house safe. Moody opens the door just a crack, letting me slip inside.

The house is dark and empty. I follow Moody up the stairs and into the spare room. He opens an oak chest and pulls out a moldy teddy bear that is missing one eye. I raise an eyebrow.

"Childhood toy?"

"Portkey," he retorts.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere even the most senior in the force don't know about."

"Hm, a safe house within a safe house?" I smirk. He graces me with a no-nonsense look.

"I trust you won't repeat what you see today. I'll remind you that I have the authority to arrest."

I shudder and nod, having no desire to be on the receiving end of Moody's wand.

"I'll admit I'm curious," I say, grabbing onto the portkey. "Is this secret really big enough to put even you on edge?"

Moody stares at the teddy bear we both hold. "Yes. I think it might be."

My body lurches forward as we are pulled sideways. I clamp my eyes shut and hold tight to the bear, letting myself be spun in nonsensical circles. When we land, I stumble, trying not to heave.

"Get used to it," says Moody, tossing the old teddy bear to the ground.

We are on a desolate street. The sky is grey and a whistling breeze blows stray trash across the road. In front of us stands a tall brick public housing unit. It's old and bleak. Forgotten laundry hangs from the railings, damp from the sprinkling rain.

Moody and I climb the stairs. The floor creaks as we amble down the hallway. We stop outside Unit 14. Moody pulls out his wand, tapping intricate patterns on the door. Multiple locks click before it pops open and reveals a dark entryway.

Moody busies himself with re-locking the door while I inch forward, deeper into the dingy flat. The entry is bare, just a hallway, but light bleeds from under the crack of a nearby door. I hear dishes clink faintly. The door opens and a man steps out. I see his dark blue robes first and his gray beard second.

Dumbledore.

"Ah," he says, looking from me to Moody. "You've arrived."

"Is he here?" Moody grunts, moving closer to my ex-headmaster,

"We've been enjoying the most splendid tea. A gift from an old student who now resides in a traveling circus..."

Moody listens as Dumbledore talks, following him through the door. Unease spreads through me. Something feels wrong. Unexplored. Unprecedented...

Moody glances at me over his shoulder, gesturing me forward. We pass first through a small sitting room. It's sparsely decorated, with only a small loveseat, a wooden Muggle television, and a lamp with a lopsided shade.

The men step through an archway on the right side of the room. I can just make out a kitchen with black and white tiled floors and laminate cupboards. I turn the corner and my brain short circuits.

Sitting at the head of a rectangular wooden table is Regulus Black.

My vision must have failed me. I close my eyes and take a breath. I open them again.

It hasn't.

Regulus Black is in this kitchen, in this dingy city flat, with a mug of tea in front of him, and he is alive.

He sits up straighter when I walk in but keeps his eyes low, hidden under a smattering of dark curls. His hands curve around the base of his mug, steam rising from it. He wears dark clothing. Clothing unlike that I'd seen him in before. Normal clothing. Muggle clothing.

Moody and Dumbledore join him at the table. As if this was typical. As if nothing was wrong with this scene. I stand where I am, shock slowly bubbling into anger.

"What is he doing here?" I ask, surprised by the strength of my voice in this situation.

"We'll explain shortly," Moody says. "If you could sit—"

"I'm not sitting at the table of a Death Eater," I snap.

Regulus's fingers clench tighter around his cup, then stretch out, pulling away from the table and into his lap. He looks up, hair falling from his face, and locks eyes with me. I flinch. They are so like Sirius's but also tinged with something dark. While Sirius's expressive grey eyes boast mischief, Regulus's sage ones shine steely and knowing.

He looks down again and I inhale sharply. Dumbledore sets his tea on the table, glancing between the two of us.

"I suppose we can skip the introductions," he says with a placid smile.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"No matter," says Dumbledore. "You need only know that it is safe"

"Why bother with such tight security? Is it to keep him in?" I say, nodding my head toward the silent boy.

Dumbledore hums. "No. Rather, to keep others out."

"Others?"

"You see, Mr. Black has recently found himself in a startling predicament. One that has turned Lord Voldemort and his followers against him. I have fashioned him this safe house to ensure exactly that. His safety."

I swallow hard. I glance at Regulus through the corner of my eye. He sits just as still as before, as if he hasn't even heard our conversation.

"I don't understand."

"Sit, and we'll fill you in," says Moody, patting the chair beside him with an aggressive slap. When I do, Dumbledore pushes another steaming mug towards me.

"Regulus has, for lack of better words, defected," says Moody. He says it as if he doesn't believe it. Alastor Moody has never been one to accept readily the words of a Death Eater.

Or...a defected Death Eater.

"Why?" I ask, looking at Regulus now. His neck bends down just enough for me to know he is listening. Then he looks up, meeting my eyes again.

"I grew bored," he says, goading me.

"What your classmate means to say—"

"He isn't my classmate," I say, cutting Dumbledore off.

"My apologies," he continues. "What Mr. Black means to say is that he discovered a secret. A secret his Dark Lord held very near and dear. One that threatens to upend our world if allowed to linger. When Regulus realized the consequences of such a conspiracy, he sought to put an end to it himself. A brave but foolish move that has resulted in his going into hiding some three months ago."

Three months. I scoff.

"Ah, so around the same time his obituary was published. Around the same time I started taking the night shift to lull his brother back to sleep from the nightmares," I say, jaw clenching.

Regulus shifts, letting his hair fall over his eyes again. I know it is immature to let my anger boil but I can't help it. It's like seeing a ghost. I don't know how to feel.

"I understand it must be hard to see a face you thought gone," says Dumbledore. "It is normal to be angry. Do not let it consume you."

I stare at the Headmaster, at the sparkle in his eye and the warning on his face.

"If I can, Dumbledore," says Moody. "I think it's best we get on with it. Time won't wait for anyone."

"Of course," says Dumbledore. "There is much to explain and so little time."

He reaches into his robes and pulls out a long silver chain. At its base sits an amber locket.

"And every explanation begins with this."