Cuthbert was being dragged forward by Regulus.
Cold sweat slid from his forehead down to his chin. His teeth were clenched so tightly he could almost hear the faint grinding at the back of his jaw.
He was only eleven. A first-year wizard. What he had just witnessed shattered everything he understood about the world. It was grotesque and unnatural. There was no way he could look at that and feel nothing.
But he was the heir of the Avery family. That identity was the core of who he was.
Fear could exist.
It just couldn't be allowed to rule him.
He saw it clearly now. Up ahead was the narrow passage. The entrance gaped open in the dark like the mouth of some waiting creature.
The moment they rushed inside, they would have to slow down.
And the gray mist behind them would catch up.
Cuthbert said nothing.
His face was pale, lips pressed into a thin line, brows drawn tight. His gaze shifted to Regulus's profile.
His life was in Regulus's hands now.
Regulus was running far faster than he or Alex could manage.
If he released the Gripping Charm… if he canceled Wingardium Leviosa… the two of them would fall behind. The gray mist would swallow them.
No.
They would die.
In Cuthbert's mind, Regulus was powerful. More than that, he was clear-headed.
He never acted without purpose. He calculated three moves ahead. He never made sacrifices without value.
Only one choice lay before Regulus.
Drag them both into that narrow passage.
Or cut them loose and escape alone.
Alex was in even worse shape.
His whole body shook violently. His teeth chattered in thin, frantic clicks. Broken whimpers leaked from his throat.
He kept his head lowered, not daring to look back at the gray mist, not daring to look ahead into the dark tunnel.
His legs were so weak they might as well have been overcooked noodles. He was barely moving on his own, dragged forward almost entirely by the force of the Gripping Charm.
Regulus had considered the option.
If he let them go and ran alone, his speed would increase dramatically. His odds of escaping the gray mist would be much higher.
From a purely practical standpoint, it was optimal.
Discard the burden. Preserve the core.
And he was the core.
Yet he maintained both the Gripping Charm and Wingardium Leviosa.
He had brought them here.
He had decided they would participate in this investigation.
If you lead someone into danger, you do not abandon them halfway through.
That had nothing to do with profit calculations. Nothing to do with survival rules.
It was something more fundamental. A principle carved into the marrow of a soul that had lived a full life once before.
He was not naive. His principles applied selectively.
He was no saint. He had made plenty of cold, calculated choices.
But pushing someone he had personally led into danger toward certain death…
He could not do it.
And besides, he was not without preparation.
Fiendfyre.
A cursed flame that devoured everything. Even Voldemort's fragmented soul could be reduced to ash beneath it. Against a curse-born gray mist, it should work.
Verdant Magic's Magic Siphon… if the gray mist could be treated as pure negative magic, perhaps he could forcibly extract it with Magic Circulation and refine it through his star guided meditation into harmless energy.
Theoretically viable.
Worst case scenario, Space Warp. It was still immature. It only worked reliably on objects, and precision was poor. But if he had to use it, he would.
Every option carried risk.
He still lacked enough tools.
Regulus dragged the two forward, his mind racing just as fast as his feet.
Did Dumbledore truly not know something like this was buried beneath Hogwarts?
Regulus was only a first-year. Yet from Hermes's injury, Darren's strange behavior, and the traces left behind, he had pieced together enough clues to find this place.
The professors could not possibly be unaware.
Dumbledore was headmaster. The entire castle was under his domain. A curse bomb capable of detonating beneath the school… there was no reason he would know nothing about it.
Regulus recalled the headmaster's usual demeanor. Turning a blind eye to minor student squabbles.
And yet, at crucial moments, he always appeared.
Steady.
In control.
Perhaps Dumbledore already knew the secret behind the stone door. Perhaps he even knew about Darren's actions. Knew the task he had been set.
Simply observing from the shadows. Waiting for the right moment to intervene.
And observing whom?
Regulus gave a faint inward shake of his head.
Hadn't he just charged straight into the center of it?
The thought steadied him.
The gray mist was now only three meters from his back.
Regulus made his decision.
No hesitation.
The entrance to the narrow passage was five steps away.
He stopped abruptly.
"Knockback Jinx!"
The spell slammed into Cuthbert and Alex.
Caught completely off guard, both of them stumbled forward, bodies pitching through the air. They barely managed to land at the edge of the narrow passage.
Regulus remained where he stood.
His back to them.
Facing the roiling gray mist.
The hand holding his wand was steady. Not a tremor.
His voice was calm. Not rushed. But it carried quiet authority.
"You run. I'll hold it off. Get out and find a professor."
Cuthbert regained his footing and spun around.
Shock was written plainly across his face. His eyes widened, pupils shrinking sharply in the dim light, as if he couldn't process what he had just heard.
In the education of Pure-blood families, profit above all was an unspoken law.
Survival, expansion, power and resources. Every action revolved around those things.
Friendship was an accessory to exchange. If necessary, it could be cut away.
He had known Regulus for less than a year.
At first it had been a family arrangement. Later, it was his own choice. He had acknowledged Regulus's ability. Chosen to follow him.
But he had never imagined Regulus would stay behind for him and Alex.
To face that deadly gray mist alone.
Regulus's expression did not change.
His back was straight. Even as the gray tide surged forward, he did not retreat an inch.
Yet in Cuthbert's eyes, the boy his own age suddenly seemed completely different.
Cuthbert's lips moved.
He wanted to say thank you.
He wanted to say take care.
He wanted to say something.
No sound came out.
Alex had fallen hard. His palm scraped against rough stone, skin torn open. Beads of blood welled up.
He did not feel the pain.
Hearing Regulus's words, his eyes turned red instantly. Large tears slammed into the stone floor, kicking up dust.
He tried to cry out, but fear locked his throat. Only broken, stifled sobs escaped.
Cuthbert looked at Regulus one last time.
The look in his eyes was complicated.
Gratitude.
Shock.
And unmistakable admiration.
In that moment, he was fully convinced.
Not because of power.
Because of something else.
He knew words were useless now. Regulus had made his choice.
The only thing he could do was drag Alex out with everything he had and find a professor.
Cuthbert grabbed Alex and hauled him up, gripping his wrist tightly.
He did not look back.
He turned and sprinted into the narrow passage, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.
"Keep up!" he shouted.
Regulus closed his eyes.
His consciousness sank inward.
Star-Guided meditation unfolded in his mind. The half-formed four-star model of Orion lit up.
He drew out that vast, tranquil image of the night sky and wove it into Protego.
The Shield Charm formed.
A crystal-like barrier expanded before him. Its glow was gentle, but its substance was unyielding.
He invoked the fifth star.
Bellatrix.
The shield star of Orion. A symbol of protection.
Even with only half a star's strength, the intent of guardianship was clear and fierce.
A blue-white halo spilled from the tip of his wand, merging with the light of Protego. Fine starlight speckled across the barrier's surface.
The shield grew heavier.
Stronger.
Protego wrapped fully around him.
The next instant, the gray mist struck.
A harsh sizzling roar exploded through the tunnel. The barrier trembled violently. Ripples surged across its surface.
But it did not shatter.
It held.
The gray mist carried echoes of despair.
Wails of agony.
Those sounds battered the barrier over and over, draining Regulus's magic at terrifying speed.
His mind, however, remained crystal clear.
The starry image in his consciousness grew brighter. Each star revolved slowly, synchronized with his Magic Circulation.
A single face did not strike with much force.
But there were too many.
Packed tight.
Endless.
One shattered and dissolved against the shield, and another instantly took its place.
Time stretched thin.
The gray mist swallowed the barrier completely.
Countless faces pressed against the translucent shield, their twisted features and gaping mouths reflected in Regulus's eyes, hollow sockets staring back at him.
Each one vented centuries of accumulated suffering.
Each one tried to drag the living into the same abyss.
The impacts merged into a single silent scream.
Come.
Join us.
Regulus's will did not waver.
But as seconds ticked by, he felt the limit approaching.
This Protego, fused with the image of the stars, far surpassed an ordinary shield.
Its cost was equally terrifying.
The gray mist did not tire. Every second, hundreds—thousands—of faces ground against the shield's magic.
The light began to dim.
The vibrations intensified.
Fine cracks spidered across the surface like fractured glass on the verge of collapse.
And then—
Something pure and warm surged up from the depths of his heart.
It broke through the turbulent magic inside him. It rushed along his arm and burst from his wand.
A brilliant silver-white light exploded from the tip, gathering rapidly before him.
The outline of a bird formed.
Wings spread wide.
Tail feathers lifted.
His Patronus.