When Regulus saw Albus Dumbledore standing there, his first reaction was that it made sense.
He wasn't even that surprised.
Hermes's injury. Darren's movements. The curse behind the stone door. Once those pieces were laid out in order, Dumbledore appearing at the end of it felt almost inevitable.
For a fleeting second, another thought crossed his mind.
Was this all arranged?
Was Hermes's injury part of the design too, just to see whether he would follow the trail?
He pushed the idea down almost immediately. It was pointless.
Even if it were true, what could he do about it?
Confront the headmaster? Pretend ignorance?
Neither option changed anything. So he let it go.
Tonight's drain had been far beyond normal.
He hadn't cast that many spells. Protego had held from start to finish. The Starlight Kite had only appeared at the end. There hadn't been much in the way of complex magic.
Yet the exhaustion was heavier than most training sessions.
It was a matter of volume.
The faces had slammed into the barrier again and again. Every impact cost magic to absorb.
Worse was the erosion of his mind. Each face carried despair and agony. They pressed against the shield, trying to seep along the current of his magic and burrow into his thoughts.
He had to keep pouring in clean magic, purifying, reinforcing, maintaining.
A duel with Orion was different. Power met power. The cost was visible, measurable.
Tonight had been a slow bleed, as if a hundred tiny cuts were draining him at once.
His meditation technique ran at full capacity just to keep up with the loss. On the mental level, he had to sustain his Occlumency barrier without pause. A single lapse could have allowed the negative magic to slip inside.
Still, he hadn't dropped his defenses.
Protego remained in place. The Starlight Kite perched on his shoulder.
The Patronus's silver glow illuminated a circle around them. The gray mist lingered outside the light, unwilling to approach.
Dumbledore blinked, a gentle smile curving his lips. His white beard trembled faintly with each breath.
He raised his right hand. His index finger extended, and a small glow blossomed at the tip.
The light was soft. Not blinding. Like the first ray of sunrise slipping through cloud cover.
It spread outward.
Not in a violent surge, but like water flowing naturally across the ground.
Wherever the white light passed, the gray mist dissolved. The faces melted away without sound or struggle, as though they had never existed at all.
When the light reached the stone door, it echoed back, gathering once more at Dumbledore's fingertip. It condensed into a small sphere, about the size of a pigeon's egg, still glowing with a warm, comforting radiance.
Regulus felt it clearly.
The tension in his mind loosened at once. The exhaustion he had accumulated was washed away like dust under warm water.
He withdrew Protego. The faint blue barrier faded silently.
The Starlight Kite tilted its head and let out a low cry. It brushed its beak affectionately against his cheek, warm for a lingering second, then dissolved into silver motes that scattered into the air.
"What a beautiful bird," Dumbledore said, gazing at the space where it had vanished. Admiration filled his eyes.
"The Starlight Kite, a legendary creature said to feed on starlight and traverse space. I never expected it to become your Patronus."
"Thank you for the compliment, Headmaster," Regulus replied with a slight bow, his tone respectful.
"Your phoenix is just as remarkable. Rebirth from ashes, healing tears. It is one of the most admired guardians in the magical world."
That Dumbledore knew of the Starlight Kite did not surprise him.
Orion had told him to hide it. But he'd had neither the chance nor the strength tonight.
And this was Dumbledore. If he saw it, he saw it.
Dumbledore's eyes brightened with unmistakable pride. He stroked his beard.
"To receive recognition from a young wizard is quite delightful.
Fawkes is indeed extraordinary, though he can be mischievous. On occasion, he leaves my office in a rather chaotic state."
He tucked away the glowing sphere. When his hand emerged again, it held a pocket watch. The cover snapped open. He leaned in to check the time.
"Twelve minutes to three," Dumbledore said. "Which means, strictly speaking, I should say good morning."
Regulus met his gaze directly. "Headmaster, have you been here all along?"
"All along," Dumbledore replied with a calm nod. There was clear approval in his blue eyes.
"From the moment you entered the Astronomy Tower. I watched you pass through the corridor and face the gray mist.
When you chose to stay behind and cover your friends' retreat, I confess I was surprised. Very few first-year students can remain calm under such circumstances, let alone willingly shoulder that risk."
"Anyone capable would have done the same," Regulus answered, without the slightest hint of seeking credit.
"Cuthbert and Alex didn't have the means to deal with something like this. I couldn't leave them there."
"It was not an easy choice," Dumbledore said softly. "In a crisis, to think of your classmates first. To remain behind deliberately. That is a fine quality.
Many know what they ought to do. Fewer follow through when the moment comes."
"I only did what was necessary," Regulus replied evenly.
"My ability is stronger. Naturally, I should bear more. Staying behind was the most rational decision. It bought them time and minimized potential losses."
The greater the ability, the greater the responsibility.
Dumbledore studied him. Something flickered in the old man's eyes. He lifted a sleeve and gently dabbed at the corner of his eye.
He then placed a warm, steady hand on Regulus's shoulder.
"You are more mature than I imagined, Mr. Black. And braver."
He paused, then added, "And more talented."
Regulus lowered his head modestly, as though embarrassed by the praise.
Regulus did not ask why Dumbledore had remained hidden until the final moment.
Dumbledore did not ask how he had discovered the passage beneath the Astronomy Tower, nor why he had not reported it beforehand.
The atmosphere stayed unusually harmonious. Dumbledore's smile never faded, and the admiration in his gaze was unconcealed, almost genuinely pleased by Regulus's performance.
More importantly, Regulus had not felt his mental defenses being touched.
Perhaps it had happened without his notice.
This was Dumbledore, after all. If the headmaster truly intended to break through his Occlumency, could he have failed?
Or perhaps there had been no attempt. He was only a first-year.
At times, Dumbledore seemed stubbornly disciplined, restraining himself.
"That wand," Regulus said at last. "What is it?"
His gaze dropped to Dumbledore's now-empty left hand. The unsettling wand had already been put away.
"It is called the Resentment Plague Wand," Dumbledore answered without hesitation.
He did not dismiss the question because of Regulus's age. Instead, he explained with deliberate seriousness.
Regulus understood what that meant.
Dumbledore was sharing a secret. Offering trust.
He listened in silence.
The smile on Dumbledore's face faded slightly, replaced by gravity.
"In the mid-sixteenth century, an Italian dark wizard named Valentino Solito became obsessed with manifesting pain into tangible magic.
He turned his attention to the Black Death sweeping across Europe and intercepted Skeleton Moths carrying the pathogen."
"Skeleton Moths?" Regulus asked.
He remembered reading about them. He had not expected them to connect to this wand.
"Indeed. A creature capable of spreading magical plague," Dumbledore said.
"Valentino twisted and altered the pathogen with dark magic, developing the Resentment Plague Curse.
It does not kill immediately. Instead, it spreads through Skeleton Moths. The infected suffer first from rotting skin and unbearable joint pain.
Then their senses are consumed by agony. Their consciousness is gradually devoured by despair. After weeks of torment, they die."
"And the faces," Regulus pressed, "are condensed from the victims' pain?"
"Precisely." A trace of sorrow passed through Dumbledore's eyes.
"Valentino used this method to slaughter over seventy thousand residents of Bolzano and surrounding villages in northern Italy.
The ultimate pain and despair of every victim were condensed through dark magic into the Resentment Plague Wand."
Regulus's fingers brushed lightly together as he organized the information.
"The wand wood is Black Walnut. The core must be Valentino's finger bone mixed with powdered Skeleton Moth wings."
Dumbledore raised his brows, then smiled.
"You observe carefully. That is correct.
Professor Marcus Valerius, together with three other professors, eventually defeated Valentino. They seized the wand but found it impossible to destroy.
"The pain magic had fused completely with it. Forceful destruction would have caused the magic to leak and trigger a secondary catastrophe. So it was hidden within Hogwarts, sealed under layers of ancient protective spells."
A thought stirred in Regulus's mind.
Dumbledore was explaining why he had intervened to take the wand.
But even a physical wand… I couldn't destroy it?
The idea flickered and passed.
"Headmaster," he asked, "what was that white light just now?
The faces I struggled to hold back had no resistance against it."
Dumbledore smiled again. The wrinkles at his eyes deepened, and there was a hint of mischief in his expression.
"It was only a beam of light," he said lightly. "Though I suppose it carried a touch of light within it."
Regulus nodded.
He understood.
Opposing attributes.
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New target 200PS :)