The box landed on Dumbledore's desk with a thunk that resounded 'round the Headmaster's office with a heaviness disproportionate to the size of it. Dumbledore's eyes fell upon the box, then moved slowly upward to Edgar Bones. The auror's face was lined with concern, his bright eyes wide and staring at the box with a leery expression.

Carefully, Dumbledore tucked his beard against his chest with one hand and leaned forward over the mahogany desk, looking very closely at the box over the curve of his half-moon spectacles. He flicked his wand and the box opened. Inside, it was lined with velvet of an extremely dark green, plush and soft, and in the middle of the pillowy lining was set a small, dull-silver-looking cube. The cube glinted in the flickering light of the candles in Dumbledore's office, highlighting tiny markings that were etched into the metal, so small they were invisible to the eye. Dumbledore squinted at the etchings, but could make nothing of them.

Wanting a closer look, Dumbledore reached into the pocket of his robes, pulling out a handkerchief, which he used to lift up the cube without touching it. It was perhaps lined with silver but must have been made by some other incredibly heavy metal, Dumbledore supposed, as he lifted it up. The cube pressed into his cradled palm and he let it roll over onto its side, like a dice, confirming that the etchings went all around the entire thing.

"What do you make of it, sir?" Edgar Bones asked, sitting heavily in the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk.

"I am not sure," Dumbledore mused, turning the cube over again in his palm.

"But clearly it's something, yeah?" Edgar said, "To be in such a - a fine box as that?" His question was broken in the middle by a wide yawn.

Dumbledore glanced up at Edgar Bones and was suddenly struck by the thought that he looked incredibly tired and care-worn. Caradoc Dearborn's disappearance had been weighing heavy on Edgar Bones and the effects were taking their toll on him. There were bags beneath his eyes and his usually warm skin tone had taken a bit of a paler look to it as though he were not entirely well. "I think," said Dumbledore gently, "That it is a mystery best investigated once you've had some rest."

Edgar Bones looked ready to argue when there came a knock on Dumbledore's office door.

Dumbledore's gaze turned to the door. "Come in," he called.

The door opened and Minerva McGonagall entered, followed by a very despondent-looking Regulus Black.

Edgar Bones's expression darkened and he quickly scooped up the box, shoved it into his robes, and muttered, "I'll return to talk about this matter further in the future, Albus." He nodded to Minerva and hurried out the door and down the steps.

McGonagall turned to Dumbledore as the door closed behind the auror. "I do apologize, Headmaster, if I have interrupted something important."

Dumbledore shook his head, smoothing his beard and sitting down behind the desk in his chair. "It is quite alright, Minerva, Mr. Bones was just taking his leave anyway." His eyes traveled to Regulus, whose mouth was pinched with aggravation. The boy had dark rings beneath his eyes from lack of sleep and his hair, which hung a bit longer than he'd ever previously allowed it to become, hid his eyes as he stared down at his trainers. "To what do I owe this honor of your visit to my office?"

Minerva McGonagall sighed through her nose and shook her head, glancing at Regulus, then back at the Headmaster. "This boy has repeatedly been caught sneaking about the Transfiguration wing," she said, "Despite being told to go back to his dormitory, and serving multiple detentions, he persists." She motioned for Regulus to sit down.

Dumbledore considered Regulus as he sat in the chair opposite of Dumbledore's desk. He rubbed his beard thoughtfully, his mind going over the contents of the Transfiguration corridor, recalling the rooms and artifacts that lined the halls there. He himself had once been the Transfiguration teacher and he'd curated many of the things there himself, and while such things were terribly interesting to himself, he did not see why ancient charts, paintings, and portraits pertaining to Transfiguration would be of such interest to the boy seated before him. He looked up at McGonagall and motioned for her to depart. She nodded, then turned and left, closing the door behind her.

Regulus turned his head slightly to see her leave over his shoulder, and then looked back at Dumbledore through his long fringe, which he now pushed back over his head with a lazy palm in a move very similar to one he had often seen made by James Potter. Regulus leaned back into the chair, trying to achieve a look of over inflated confidence.

This attitude shift reminded Dumbledore very much of Sirius Black, and he sat up a bit straighter, forcing himself to remember that this boy, although related to the boisterous Gryffindor, was indeed the son of two of the most notorious followers of Lord Voldemort. This boy, therefore, was not an ally to the Order or to Dumbledore himself, but rather an enemy - and despite his young age, Dumbledore could not help but notice that Regulus's fingers held to the cuff of his left sleeve, and that his eyes bore the unmistakable darkness of someone who had seen far more than his years suggested.

"What is in the Transfiguration wing that has caught your interest, Mr. Black?" Dumbledore asked, cutting directly to the chase.

Regulus was quiet. He shook his head.

"There must be something there of great interest to you if you keep returning despite punishments intended to discourage the visitations."

Regulus shrugged, "Not really. It's just a bunch of old rubbish."

Dumbledore stared at Regulus. "Then why are you repeatedly visiting to look at all of that old rubbish?"

Regulus replied, "Why does it matter where I choose to go or not to go?"

Dumbledore said, "You have been told not to lurk in the Transfiguration corridor."

"Why? What are you hiding in the corridor that matters so much if I go there, should I choose to?" Regulus demanded.

Dumbledore replied, "Students are encouraged to spend their time in their own dormitories and common rooms."

"Then I'll consider myself banished to the dungeons, then." Regulus stood up, "May I go?"

"No." Dumbledore stood, too, and despite Regulus's growth spurts of late having made him taller than the Headmaster, the motion was still quite intimidating. "Sit down."

Regulus sat back down... slowly.

Dumbledore sat again as well, equally slowly, considering Regulus again for a long moment, trying to decide the best tactic to communicate with the boy, to get the answers he wanted, and - possibly - a glimpse into what the boy knew of Voldemort's plans.

What was in the transfiguration corridor that could possibly draw him there, that could make this sort of attitude come out? Or was Regulus simply just biased to this sort of tone? Dumbledore could only think of one thing that could lead to the boy skulking about in the wing - and it was to spy on Minerva McGonagall.

Dumbledore folded his hands and rested them on the curve of his stomach as he stared at Regulus intently.

Regulus stared back, half biting his lip, and considering the old man across from him. He wondered, fleetingly, if he could trust the old Headmaster, if he ought to tell the Headmaster about the portrait that had drawn him in, who whispered tantalizing hints about the horrific death of Alabaster Jackson. He wondered if he ought to tell Dumbledore about his own connections to the Order of the Phoenix, to break the carefully constructed wall of secrecy he had built to protect himself. Surely, Regulus thought, one more person in the circle of trust would not be the breaking point... would it? Particularly if it was Albus Dumbledore?

He had just opened his mouth to speak his truth when Dumbledore spoke first.

"As a student under the protection of Hogwarts, I have sworn, as Headmaster to protect you - just as I do any other students in these halls," Dumbledore said slowly. He stood up again and walked carefully along the wall, his eyes squinting at the various whizzing, whirring silver instruments that lined the shelves amongst his thick volumes of books. "But I know what you are, Regulus Black, and I know who you work for." Dumbledore paused in front of a funny contraption that looked like a glass bulb, quietly flickering with a strange, effervescent light. Dumbledore reached up, his fingers just grazing the glass, and strange, blue bubbles seemed to collect at each point where his skin made contact with the glass. "And it is only my sworn oath as Headmaster which keeps me from turning you over to the Ministry."

Regulus's mouth snapped closed, all thoughts of revealing himself gone. He felt cold as though cold water had been poured upon his head, and he shrank back into the chair ever so slightly.

Dumbledore stood, again looking rather intimidating and not a bit like the friendly old man who greeted them in the Great Hall at meals. Everything about him seemed to be crackling with power, and it was suddenly very, very evident why Voldemort was afraid of Albus Dumbledore. You'd be mad not to be afraid of him, once you'd seen this side to him, Regulus thought.

Regulus had the sudden desire to confess to... something... he didn't even know what. He hadn't actually done anything wrong, after all, but the desire to blurt out exactly what he'd been doing in the corridor welled up inside of him, nearly impossible to refuse. He realized that it was Dumbledore. Something Dumbledore was doing to him with that intense gaze and darkness about his complexion was influencing Regulus. It wasn't an imperius, nor was it legilimemcy, but it was something else, something other, and it seemed to be crushing his emotions.

It took all of the strength Regulus had to put up the protective walls in his mind, and he felt a twist of horror wash through him that he was having to guard himself as strongly against Albus Dumbledore as he would have against the Dark Lord.

Both of them stared at the other, letting the silence hang between them for a long, long while before finally saying, "I do not want to hear reports of you sneaking about the Transfiguration corridor again. Do you understand?"

Regulus nodded, "Yeah. Understood."

Unable to take anymore of it, Regulus got up and, without being dismissed properly, left the Headmaster's office, his heart thumping wildly in his throat as he hurried away, practically running down the moving staircase to the corridor below.

Dumbledore sat down, letting out a sigh, and releasing the power he'd allowed to show to the boy. He seemed to shrink into his chair. He felt the gaze of Fawkes upon him, and he glanced at the bird, who shifted on the perch and tilted his head with a mixture of curiosity and disappointment.

Sirius caught Lily aside as she was returning to the kitchen after running to the bathroom during breakfast. He'd waited at the end of the hall and pulled her quickly into the bedroom he and Remus shared.

"Lilith," he said, "You're positively electric today."

Lily flushed. "You felt it too, then."

Sirius replied, "What was it?"

She shook her head, "I don't know. At least not for sure anyway."

Sirius's eyebrows cinched in question. "It's magic though, isn't it? Is it involuntary then?"

Lily hesitated, considering. "I think it's more... automatic. I think it happens when I want it to."

"So you were trying at zapping me, were you?"

"No, I was trying to comfort Jasper."

"By zapping me?"

"By zapping him."

"Because who isn't comforted by a good voltage of eleckytricity?"

"It isn't electricity," Lily said, emphasizing the correction. Sirius waved his palm. She continued, "I think it's - I think it's love magic."

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Before he died, Mr. Potter told me about love magic, and I've been sort of -- Well, I've been thinking about it quite a lot since Charlus passed, and I think I've worked out some of it, at least as much as I can without help... and... Well, I think it's like this, I think that love magic is like empathy in a more tangible form. I can extract feelings, like when Jasper was sad, when I touched his hand, I felt... Sirius, it was as though I could feel his sadness soaking up into my palm, like I was taking it off of him, and I could feel it in my own heart."

Sirius stared at Lily with wide eyes.

"I guess that's what the electric feeling does," Lily said.

Sirius murmured, "That's incredible."

"Yeah."

"What else do you reckon it can do?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but - I don't think this is the first time I've used the love magic before. Remember when James was in that cell, and You Know Who was trying to crucio him?"

Sirius nodded, leaning forward.

"It hurt me, too, when he hurt James. And I yelled at him, I blocked his spell. I think that was love magic. I think Remus can do it, too, like when he fought You Know Who in Fallengunder after... Ned."

"How do you learn more?" Sirius asked.

"I thought I'd ask at uni," Lily replied. "Or Dumbledore."

Sirius nodded, "Yes. Absolutely. You should do that."

Lily smiled at the floor a moment, then said, "Don't tell anyone yet?"

"About your super cool power? Why not?"

Lily shrugged. "Just between you and I for now?"

Sirius nodded.

"Thank you," she said, and she caught Sirius up in a hug before he could refuse it.