The Last Secret Kept – Chapter Three

"Sirius?" Harry asked, breathlessly.

He hated himself for it, but he had idly imagined that Sirius would be hiding out here – his last bolthole. For in Harry's mind, Sirius wasn't the sort to actually die. He just wouldn't let that happen. His godfather was invincible. He had escaped Azkaban after all. Harry had always hoped that Sirius had been sent somewhere else – they had no proof that he had actually died. It was just a veil. He wasn't dead; Sirius had been waiting for Harry to find him. And it had taken Harry so long-

"N-no." The man in the threshold said croakily. He shook his head slowly. "Sirius… Sirius…I'm not-" He murmured. Then, slowly, his wand slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. He swayed slightly, and slid down the doorframe, sitting on the floor dazedly. "…no, Sirius."

Harry frowned in confusion. That wasn't Sirius' voice. He advanced on the man, wand still out. He waited until he was standing directly over the man, and stooped slowly, picking the other's wand up from the floor and straightening up almost immediately. "Who are you?" Harry asked in a hollow voice. He had almost convinced himself that Sirius was back. He had been stupid. So stupid.

"I assume that you are the legendary Harry James Potter?" The man asked quietly. "Of course you are. No one else could get here. I've been expecting you. Sirius is dead then?" He asked frankly. Harry nodded. The man didn't turn to see him, but his silence answered for him. "I, am Regulus Arcturus Black. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

There was a silence in the room. A silence that seemed to press down upon Harry's shoulders. R.A.B.

"Actually, I am not pleased." Regulus continued quietly. "Because if you have found me, that means that you have found the note from Sirius, which means his will has been activated, and he is dead. I am not pleased about that. Not pleased at all. How did it happen?" He asked, suddenly turning to look at Harry.

"Erm…" Harry's voice appeared to have temporarily failed him. "…There was a fight, as the Ministry. Death Eaters and us. Sirius was pushed through some sort of Veil thing in the Department of Mysteries."

"Who did it?" Regulus asked, almost silently.

"Bellatrix Black."

Regulus sighed. "How long ago was it?"

"Four, five years?" Harry hadn't taken his wand off Regulus.

"I thought so. He hasn't been to see me in years. I lost track of time. I just wandered around the confines, waiting."

"Confines?"

"Oh. Have you not guessed yet?" Regulus asked, suddenly looking up. "After I destroyed the Dark Lord's Horocrux, I had to hide. So, I went to the one person I knew would not turn me over to the Death Eaters. Sirius. He's been my Secret Keeper ever since. Did you ever wonder why he couldn't be your parents' Keeper? Too risky having two Secrets in one soul. And now you are mine. My Keeper. Congratulations."

Harry backed away and sat down heavily on one of the sofas. "But, you're meant to be dead." He said slowly. "R.A.B. In the cave – you should have died after drinking that liquid. It almost killed Dumbledore, and he's the greatest wizard in a century."

"Ah," Regulus said lightly, "but it was not I who drank it, was it?" Seeing he wasn't understood, he continued; "Did you ever wonder why the Blacks only had one single, slightly demented House Elf? No, we had two. I took one with me, she drank the potion. She died."

"That's horrible." Harry said quietly. "You made her do that, for you?"

"What else are House Elves for?" Regulus asked with a shrug.

Harry felt he was in some surreal dream. He and the previously dead R.A.B were sat in the small kitchen, nursing mugs of tea. The man opposite him seemed mostly normal, if unnervingly still, with a habit of watching him silently then bursting into long monologues. "Why haven't you starved?" Harry asked. "Four years without Sirius to bring you food? And how are you sane?"

"You can preserve and multiply food with magic, once you have some to begin with, of course. I have eaten a lot of omelettes and carrots for the past four years." Regulus said grimly. "Sirius brought me scraps from the cook at Number Twelve. When he stayed here after his escape, he would catch me rabbits and pheasants." Harry wondered if he should say that the 'cook' wasn't an actual employee, but a friend's mother, taking refuge and solace in mass-cooking. He decided not. "And as for entertainment, to starve off the insanity? Well, Sirius brought me old exam papers, cross words, quizz books... And there is a good library in the basement – I have retaken all my NEWTs, and every NEWT offered by Hogwarts, many I had to start from scratch." He took a sip of tea. "If only they were current papers – I would be the most qualified man in Britain."

"So," Harry began brightly, "you could help me get my NEWTs?"

"If that is what it takes to keep you visiting once or twice a week. I have been very lonely."

"I'm not Sirius." Harry warned, wary of being molded into a dead man's image.

"Neither am I."

"You know," Harry said slowly, "now that Voldemort's dead, and most of the Death Eater's have been rounded up, I bet we could get the Wizengmot to clear you. They cleared Sirius. Posthumously, irritatingly. And Snape. If we point out how you destroyed a Horocrux for the good of mankind. No more Fidelius Charm..."

Regulus stared at Harry, hardly daring to believe his ears. "I could, I could leave this house, I could be free. Free to make my own choices, to see the sunrise in Devon, to go to the theatre, to make my own way in the world, to travel, to go on my own journey...I could be free…"

Harry regarded the man skeptically. "Yeah, and I could get a job."

-Fin-