tw: graphic descriptions of torture and recovery, child abuse

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE CONSIDERED HIMSELF A PROTECTOR. Ever since his smallest days, he'd protected the ones he loved. His younger sister before she died, the younger students when he was a Hogwarts prefect, and students of all ages as Professor and Headmaster. So when Orion Black came knocking at the gates to the castle after hearing news of his two sons (two? or one, since the other was disowned?) duelling in the hallways, the first thing Albus felt was protective.

"I am their father; I will do as I please with them," Orion said in a cold, eerily low voice. His long dark hair was in a ponytail over his upper back. "Do not stand in my way, Albus,"

His iron grey robes were a contrast against Albus's bright purple ones, and decades worth of experience had been imprinted upon the circles under Orion's eyes. Albus remembered a small, black-haired first year, arguing loudly with Lucretia Black, ever questioning. And that became the seventh year, always concentrated on curse books, unless it was to have a bitter spat or a duel with Lucretia. And somewhere along the road, that boy had become Orion Black, the Heir.

"But I am afraid I will, Orion," Albus said, his voice calm and a bit cheery, even. "Sirius is a man of seventeen. He is an adult, and no longer under your guardianship. Both boys are under mine. And as Headmaster of this school, I cannot allow you the jurisdiction to perpetrate any act you wish,"

"Careful," Orion lowered his voice until it was barely a breath. "I do not need to remind you the consequences of defying one of my House,"

"You don't," Albus said with a small smile. "But these boys are under Hogwarts' roof, and are afforded legal protections benefitting any student,"

There was a powerful glint in Albus's eyes, enough to make Orion Black cower. If his father, Arcturus, had been here, perhaps Albus might not have gotten his way. But sons were always either weaker or stronger than their fathers, and it seems it was the former for this generation.

"Very well," Orion hissed, cold blue eyes glaring into the other man. "Sirius I will leave. But Regulus is my heir, and he remains a boy of fifteen. Do not defy me now, Albus, or you will pay the reparations,"

And Albus lowered his head regretfully, knowing what would happen to the younger boy, but allowed Orion Black to proceed.

-

REGULUS FELT LIKE BOTH HIS LEGS WERE ABOUT TO SHATTER. 

His father had met him in an empty classroom. "I could have suspected this behavior from your brother, but never you," he'd said, and it was the monotonous tone that scared Regulus the most.

Then he'd gripped Reg's shoulders as he yelled, but Reg was too busy feeling the effects of hysterical panic to bubble a reply. And then Regulus had crumbled onto the ground like a leaf when his father let go, and behind him, Orion had muttered another curse in Regulus's name, before snapping his fingers.

He was always too talented at wandless magic, and the scream Reg let out still played in his head as he felt all the bones from his waist down shatter. It felt like he had a million pieces of glass inside the flesh of his legs, and each piece was whittling into his blood and skin every second. Every moment, even the feeling of being leviosa'd to the hospital wing, was painful.

"I'm sorry, dear," said Madam Pomfrey, handing Reg a cup of tea laced with Numbing Potion. But it had been Dark Magic his father used, and no amount of Numbing Potion could help. "Call me over if ye need anything. You'll be out of here in less than two weeks, I promise you,"

Reg nodded mutely. He had always been good at masking his pain, and now the only signs of abnormality were the crease in his brows and the grief in his eyes. No one else could tell how he felt like thousands of knives were grating his skin every waking moment. He desperately gulped down some water, the feeling of it rushing down his throat a needed distraction.

His bed had its curtains partially drawn, so he could hear everything that went on in the hospital wing. So his heart almost leaped out of its cage when he heard a small giggle, one that belong to the only person he could recognize in any setting, no matter how much pain or debilitation he was in.

"I'm fine," she hiccuped. And Madam Pomfrey shushed her, and there was a pause for a good ninety seconds or so as there was silence.

And then Reg heard her start coughing, and his heart sank in concern. But it didn't seem serious, and soon the bout was over. 

"How are you feeling now?" Pomfrey asked her, and Malka replied something said slightly quieter, just so Reg couldn't hear her.

"Good, good," Pomfrey said, satisfied. "You're free to go now, dear. All the effects of that Confusing Concoction should be gone,"

"Okay, thanks," Malka said, and her voice was no longer clouded with the foggy tones of elixirs. 

He heard her heels click towards the door as drew closer to his bed, and Reg hastily leaned to the left. She didn't need to see him like this.

But, Merlin, she was too smart for her own good, for the click click of her heels stopped right in front of his bed. And once that pause had held for a millisecond too long, Reg knew he was done for.

"Regulus?" she whispered, coming through the green curtains. "Why are- oh, Merlin, what happened?"

Reg cleared his throat awkwardly, knowing his legs were splayed in front of him wrapped in all sorts of bandages and casts. Anger and embarrassment flashed through him, before a wave of shame collided. "I- my father,"

"He did this?" Malka said in shock, as she moved closer to him. Reg nodded mutely. "I- I'm so sorry,"

"Save it," Reg said, closing his eyes in pain to lean his head back. "I should not have duelled Sirius. I let my anger get the better of me,"

He opened his eyes to look upon hers once more. He'd never met anyone with eyes as black as hers, hair as black as hers.

"I should have gone straight to you," he mumbled angrily, clenching his jaw and unclenching it.

Malka scoffed. "That's quite...gallant of you, Regulus. But I was rather fine on the sidelines,"

Reg made a noncomittal remark, before fiddling with his fingers for a second. "...How did you know it was me?"

Malka twitched a bit. "Erm- Legilimency," she said awkwardly.

Her eyes rounded in empathy, and Reg wanted to scoff and say he didn't want her pity. But for once, in that brief moment, it felt nice to have someone who cared about him. "It was all the bones; he splintered them with wandless magic,"

"And what happened to your brother?" she asked sharply.

"I don't know," Reg said, looking down as even he could sense the beginnings of anger eminate from her. But he knew. 

Sirius was a legal adult. And Dumbledore was far more likely to fight for his rights than Regulus's.

"It's his fault. Dumbledore's," Malka muttered with spite. "He should've argued,"

"No, it wouldn't have worked," Reg sighed. Though for a moment he allowed the feelings of self-pity to swallow him.

"Reg. Regulus, look at me," and Reg felt his eyes being dragged up by the invisible force that was her gaze. "This isn't right. You've had a terrible, terrible thing done to you," she said pleadingly.

"And what can I do about it?" Reg whispered harshly. And he immediately regretted it when he saw her recoil. "I'm sorry. But you must understand,"

Malka lowered her head as she realized he was right. They sat in silence, both of them with their eyes cast down, afraid to speak the next word. But Regulus, under the influence of a thousand painful emotions, was the first one to speak, and his voice came out in a croak.

Reg stumbled over his words. "I read about Legilimens; how they can implant images in other peoples' heads. Can you do that?"

"I can," she said confusedly, before the realization dawned on her. "I- it's a very unethical practice; it's only momentary and you must not get addicted-"

"-Please. Please, this once," Reg said, and for once, he fully stopped Occluding. He could see the visceral reaction on her face, how her eyebrows went up in painful shock, how her lips parted, how she instinctively leaned forward and her eyes swelled with tears.

"...Alright," she finally murmured. "Give me your hand,"

And Regulus did, and as she touched him, the feeling he felt was unlike any other. The immense relief, happiness, joy was overwhelming, and Regulus could've cried at its magnitude.

It was a memory she found and had amplified to a hundred. Him and his brother hiding underneath Sirius's bed, when they were so young they could still fit, and when they were so young they could be within six feet of each other without hexes being thrown around. His mother was throwing a tantrum downstairs, and his father was yelling at her along with Grandfather Arcturus.

"Have you noticed Mother's new hair?" Sirius snickered. "It looks like a chicken!"

"Siri, don't say such things!" Reg had squeaked, horrified. But Sirius only laughed.

"Oh, don't be so prissy; you see it too,"

 Sirius raised his eyebrows, and Reg reluctantly nodded his head.

"Hey! I knew I'd get you to agree with one of my opinions one day," Sirius said smugly.

"I suppose her new fur coat looks like rooster down, as well," Reg whispered so quietly, and Sirius looked at him in shock, before bursting out in barely-stifled laughter. Reg began laughing too, as the two boys coughed due to the dust under the bed, but carried on laughing despite living in a place where it was forbidden, and in that moment, everything was perfect. 

Reg could drown in that memory forever. All of his physical pain was gone, it was euphoric how perfect that moment was, and Reg felt tears prick at his eyes due to the emotions. He had no time for feeling regretful or mournful for what could've been, he was too busy reliving the moment.

So he could've screamed in fury when he felt the happiness slowly fade and the pain take root once more. His brows creased again, but the break had been so needed, and he'd drank Malka Arslan's effects in like a parched man in an oasis.

"Thank you," he said brokenly, openly crying now as he clutched her hand. And she nodded in return, managing a smile as she placed her other hand over his. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry for what happened,"

"That was nothing," she hushed, and rubbed a few circles onto his hand.

"-I don't believe it," Reg inhaled choppily, a great lump in his throat that bobbed uncomfortably every time he tried to speak. 

"-You don't believe-"

"-I say it but I don't believe it, I promise," Regulus said, whimpering pathetically as if he were a child. "About society...and blood and Muggles. I just- I just get angry sometimes, you have to believe me,"

"I believe you," that was what she said, and somewhere through the haze of all that pain, Malka Arslan's words had reached down to his hiddenmost part, and cracked open the chest that held his heart. "I trust you,"

Nothing more needed to be said.

-

this fic isn't explicitly pro or anti dumbledore. i'm trying to be book accurate with him, and i think he's an interesting character to explore.