Dumbledore's office hummed with the soft whirring of delicate silver instruments, their surfaces catching the late afternoon sunlight that streamed through the high windows. The familiar scent of old books and lemon drops hung in the air, nearly, but not quite, masking the faint aura of corruption emanating from the lead container before them. As Marquas sat there in his role as both Death Eater spy and newly minted member of "The Reasonably Handsome Rebellion," he couldn't help but appreciate how this meeting ranked among the most unusual in the chamber's storied history.
To his left sat Regulus Black, a man officially dead for months, now fully restored to his own appearance as the Polyjuice had completely worn off, his aristocratic features tight with tension. Between them on Dumbledore's desk, inside a hastily conjured lead container, sat Ravenclaw's diadem, a priceless historical artifact corrupted by the darkest magic imaginable. Even contained within lead, its presence felt like a persistent whisper against their minds, the magical equivalent of a foul taste that couldn't be washed away.
And across from them, Albus Dumbledore stroked his beard with deliberate thoughtfulness, his blue eyes twinkling with what might have been amusement, curiosity, or the early stages of a carefully controlled fury. With Dumbledore, it was often difficult to tell the difference. The man could announce impending doom with the same cheerful expression he used when offering lemon drops.
"Well," the Headmaster said finally, breaking the tense silence that had stretched between them like an unplayed string. "This is, I must say, an unexpected development."
Understatement of the century, Marquas thought, but kept his expression as neutral as the bitter potion he'd perfected in his laboratory.
Dumbledore turned his attention to Marquas, the weight of his gaze almost tangible. "While I was certainly aware of your rescue mission to retrieve Mr. Black, I was under the distinct impression that you had delivered him to a secure location abroad. Not that you were collaborating on unauthorized Horcrux hunts within the very walls of Hogwarts."
There it was, the core issue. Not just Regulus's continued existence, but the fact that they had been operating independently, pursuing Horcruxes without Dumbledore's knowledge or direction.
Working with Dumbledore was like playing chess with a grandmaster who insisted on using pieces you couldn't see, the old wizard orchestrated everything from the shadows, a habit that made Marquas's skin crawl. Control was a currency he had no intention of surrendering, not again. While it was easy to deceive someone like Regulus due to his youth and inexperience, Dumbledore was an entirely different matter. He was a formidable opponent, and Marquas couldn't afford to act openly with his canon knowledge in the presence of someone so perceptive. It was said that Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort ever truly feared. And the most dangerous part? Dumbledore would stop at nothing to achieve his goals, even if it meant sacrificing himself or those closest to him.
Marquas chose his words carefully, weighing each one like a volatile potion ingredient. "We saw an opportunity to contribute to the effort against Voldemort in a way that minimized risk to the Order while leveraging our unique positions and knowledge."
"How considerate," Dumbledore remarked dryly, the words accompanied by the smallest arch of one silvery eyebrow. "And naturally, you felt no need to inform me of these contributions."
"With respect, Headmaster," Marquas countered, meeting those penetrating blue eyes without flinching, "compartmentalization of information is standard practice in espionage. The fewer people aware of Regulus's involvement, the safer he remains, particularly given his knowledge of Voldemort's Horcruxes."
"A reasonable precaution," Dumbledore acknowledged, his long fingers tracing the edge of the desk absently. "Though it does raise the question of trust specifically, your apparent lack thereof in me."
"It's not about trust," Regulus interjected unexpectedly, his voice stronger than before. "It's about operational security and independent capability. The Order of the Phoenix, while effective, is also a known quantity to Voldemort. He has spent years studying your methods, anticipating your moves. We offer something he doesn't expect, a shadow operation with different approaches and priorities."
Dumbledore studied them both for a long moment before his gaze settled on the lead container. The subtle lines around his eyes tightened almost imperceptibly. "And this," he gestured toward it, "is the product of your shadow initiative? You've found another Horcrux?"
"Ravenclaw's diadem," Marquas confirmed with a nod. "Hidden in the Room of Requirement for decades, presumably since Voldemort's time as a student or during his visit to apply for the Defense position."
"Most impressive," Dumbledore murmured, genuine admiration briefly overriding his concern about their unauthorized activities. "I have been researching possible Horcrux locations for months without considering Hogwarts itself as a potential hiding place. An oversight on my part, and an insight on yours."
As Dumbledore considered their explanation, a flash of crimson caught Marquas's eye. Fawkes, who had been watching them with unnerving intelligence, glided from his perch to the edge of Dumbledore's desk, golden talons settling inches from the lead container. The phoenix tilted his head toward the container, emitting a soft, mournful trill that made the hair on Marquas's neck stand up.
"Indeed, old friend," Dumbledore agreed, as if understanding perfectly. "A terrible perversion of magic." He returned his attention to Marquas and Regulus. "So," Dumbledore steepled his fingers, eyes moving from the lead box to their faces, "we have two problems on our hands, don't we? This rather corrupted historical artifact, and your... extracurricular activities."
Marquas tensed slightly, his fingertips brushing against his concealed wand. This was the crucial moment, would Dumbledore attempt to shut down their operation or find a way to accommodate it within his larger strategy?
"The Horcrux should be destroyed immediately," Regulus stated firmly, sweat beading almost imperceptibly at his temples. "We've developed a method that might work, though we haven't tested it yet."
"Oh?" Dumbledore's eyebrows rose with interest, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening.
"A specially enchanted dagger," Regulus explained, leaning forward slightly, "infused with a complex potion that Marquas developed by reverse-engineering the principles of basilisk venom. It took three months of testing on dark objects of increasing complexity, each failure leaving scorch marks we're still cleaning off the ceiling, but the theory is sound. The potion replicates certain properties of basilisk venom, theoretically capable of destroying a Horcrux without requiring Fiendfyre or actual venom, both of which present significant handling risks."
"We briefly considered other methods," Marquas added, his voice perfectly deadpan. "But 'asking it nicely to stop being evil' and 'putting it in the lost and found' both seemed unlikely to yield satisfactory results. The third option involved interpretive dance, but Regulus vetoed that immediately."
A surprised chuckle escaped Dumbledore before he could suppress it. "A most ingenious approach," he commented, looking genuinely impressed. "Though I would suggest an alternative, if I may. Fiendfyre, while dangerous, can be controlled in a proper containment environment. I have access to such facilities, and experience with the precise application required."
The implication was clear, Dumbledore was offering to handle the destruction personally, maintaining some control over the process while acknowledging their discovery. A mutual concession.
"That would be acceptable," Marquas conceded after exchanging a glance with Regulus. "Assuming we receive confirmation of its destruction."
"Naturally," Dumbledore nodded, his beard catching the late afternoon sunlight. "Which brings us to the second question, your continued operations outside official Order channels."
Here it came, the attempt to bring them under control, to fold their independent work into his master plan. Marquas braced himself for the diplomatic battle ahead, muscles tensing beneath his black robes.
But Dumbledore surprised him. "I propose a compromise," the Headmaster said mildly. "Your... what did you call it again?"
"The Reasonably Handsome Rebellion," Regulus supplied with the faintest hint of embarrassment, a flush creeping up his neck.
Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly. "Ah yes, a most distinctive name. Your organization may continue its independent operations with my blessing, provided we establish certain parameters for information sharing and coordination."
Marquas blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected reasonableness of this proposal. "What sort of parameters?" he asked, voice carefully neutral despite his surprise.
"Regular progress reports on your Horcrux investigations, not detailed enough to compromise security if intercepted, but sufficient to prevent duplicate efforts or accidental interference with each other's operations," Dumbledore explained, conjuring a tea service with a casual flick of his wand. The scent of Earl Grey filled the air as he continued. "Coordination on major actions that might affect broader Order strategy. And a mutual understanding that while your methods may differ from mine, our ultimate goal remains the same."
Marquas turned the proposal over in his mind. It was... reasonable. Shockingly so. Support without subjugation, legitimacy without loss of freedom. He'd expected a chess move; this felt more like an invitation to play as equals.
"There's also the matter of Mr. Black's continued 'deceased' status," Dumbledore added, passing cups of tea that neither of them had requested but both accepted automatically. "Which I assume you wish to maintain?"
"Absolutely," Regulus confirmed, his fingers tightening around the delicate porcelain. "My effectiveness, and survival, depends on Voldemort believing I died in that cave."
"Quite understandable," Dumbledore agreed, stirring a spoonful of honey into his own cup. "In that case, I suggest we formalize your role as a ghost operative, known only to myself and Professor Snape within the Order. Your contributions can be anonymized in any reports shared with the broader resistance."
After discussing additional details and establishing secure communication protocols over tea that grew gradually cold, they reached an accord that satisfied all parties—a remarkable achievement given the potentially explosive nature of their unauthorized activities being discovered.
As they prepared to leave, Dumbledore posed one final question that caught them both off guard: "I am curious, what inspired you to check the Room of Requirement specifically? It's not a location commonly associated with Voldemort or widely known among students."
Marquas hesitated, unsure how to explain his foreknowledge without raising impossible questions. Fortunately, Regulus stepped in smoothly.
"Family research," he explained, adjusting his robes with practiced nonchalance. "The Black library contains obscure references to Hogwarts' hidden spaces. Given Voldemort's obsession with the school and its founders, it seemed a logical possibility worth exploring."
Dumbledore studied them both for a moment. Marquas recognized that careful, calculating look—the Headmaster accepted the explanation for now, but suspicion lingered behind those twinkling eyes.
"Well then," he said, rising from his chair with a rustle of embroidered robes, "I believe our business is concluded for today. Mr. Black, I suggest you depart through my private Floo connection rather than risking the corridors again. Professor Snape, a moment more of your time, if you please."
After Regulus had disappeared through the emerald flames, Dumbledore turned to Marquas with a more serious expression. "Severus, while I appreciate your initiative in this matter, I must caution you about the risks of operating too independently. Voldemort's suspicions are easily aroused, and your position as a spy is precarious enough without additional complications."
"I understand the risks," Marquas replied evenly, the familiar weight of his double life settling once more across his shoulders. "But sometimes unconventional approaches yield results that traditional methods cannot."
"Indeed they do," Dumbledore acknowledged, a note of genuine warmth entering his voice. "Your success with the diadem proves as much. Just... be careful, Severus. There are few wizards I would trust with such delicate and dangerous work. I would hate to lose one of them to preventable miscalculation."
The statement, delivered with genuine concern, caught Marquas off guard. It was easy to view Dumbledore primarily as a master strategist, someone who saw people as pieces on a chessboard. Moments like this reminded him that beneath the tactical brilliance and occasionally manipulative methods was a man who genuinely cared about those who fought alongside him.
"I appreciate your concern, Headmaster," Marquas responded, more sincerely than he had intended. "Rest assured, caution remains a priority in all our operations."