Title: Dead Boy's Poem

House: Hufflepuff

Position: Player (First Year)

Category: Pre-Round Challenge

Prompt: Kim – (Character) - Regulus Black

Word Count: 3236

Beta(s): Aya, Gwen

Written for the House Cup Challenge and inspired by the song Dead Boy's Poem by Nightwish. Please enjoy!

Dead Boy's Poem

1979 – Grimmauld Place

Regulus Black was decidedly no longer naive. He chuckled at the circumstances that had prompted his newfound maturity. There was only one word to describe it: reality. A hard slap of it right in the face. The world seemed different now and he couldn't help but realise how foolish he had been. He stared at the ugly tattoo on his left forearm and sighed.

'What's done is done.'

It wasn't as though he could really do much about it now. He doubted cutting his arm off would make any difference except to make his mother cry. Oh, it was noble work serving the Dark Lord. With a childlike curiosity, he had been drawn to the leader of the Dark. The man could inspire a myriad of emotions, such as awe or terror, depending on the occasion. He was respected, even worshipped, by some of his more fanatical followers. If he was honest, Regulus knew a part of him wanted to emulate the man in some ways.

Voldemort had an aura around him of raw, tangible magic and the experience was indescribable. It was intoxicating and even addictive. Truly, it was like being able to touch magic. The way the man spoke, men and women alike gave him the full attention he demanded. Regulus admired the control the Dark Lord held over his power and his ability to wield his magic. He found the man incredible to watch. He was a true Slytherin. Qualities like that could serve the future Lord Black immensely and the name of his forefathers would flourish under the guiding hands of a man that had grown into his powers and wielded them with expert judgement. Knowing when to move and the consequences of each step went hand in hand as far as the young heir was concerned. That was what being a true Slytherin meant.

So when his chance came to join the man, to receive his very own Mark, Regulus had jumped at the chance. Having kept Daily Prophet clippings of the man in his bedroom wall for years it had seemed like the most logical step forward. He saw a way to secure his future and seize his opportunity. Seeing the tattoo stand out against his pale skin soothed the blinding pain coursing through him and he felt like he finally belonged. Now he had a band of brothers and sisters that would always be there for him, warriors that would change the world into the glorious utopia the Dark Lord had envisioned for it: a world for true wizards, for magic.

Regulus had served the Dark Lord faithfully for two years and slowly, his worship of the man started to crack as niggling doubts about his methods began eating away at his conscience. But it wasn't until last night that the scales had tipped and made it very clear exactly what type of world Regulus had now signed up to build. Initially, he had been honoured and had happily volunteered the family elf for the Dark Lord's use. It was a privilege, and Walburga had been delighted he had chosen the Blacks to provide this. But Kreacher had told him of the Cave and what the Dark Lord had hidden away in its depths: Inferi. But that wasn't the most horrifying secret the hellish cavern had shrouded in its vast expanses.

Kreacher hadn't returned until the early hours of the morning. He was shivering and muttering in an almost insane manner. Regulus had tended to his physical injuries but remained concerned with his behaviour. It wasn't like Kreacher to be this tormented or troubled. The elf meant well and was devoted to their family and that had always set him apart from the norm for house-elves. A lot of people said the old elf was mad, but it wasn't until now that Regulus was starting to agree with their sentiments.

When he had enquired as to what the Dark Lord had asked of him, Kreacher cast his haunted gaze at the young heir and Regulus had been momentarily stunned. But the elf persevered and told him of the Cave where he had had to cut his hand to gain entry while the Dark Lord had laughed. He mentioned the rickety boat that carried them across the stagnant lake and the faces he saw in the water. Then the old servant told him of the potion the Dark Lord had made him drink, a vile concoction that had forced him to relive every terrible moment of his life. And then the burning thirst consumed him as the man had dropped a locket into the stone basin. The same man that had left the poor elf to die.

Regulus was horrified and livid at this outrageous treatment soothed the poor elf, telling him how well he had served his master and that he had performed his task to perfection. Before sending the elf off, the young heir asked him to draw a sketch of the locket which he had done dutifully. With that, Regulus had began his research. What he had discovered in the vast tomes of the infamous Black Library was the sketch had closely matched that of Slytherin's Locket. Then he had sought to understand the final obscure term Kreacher mentioned.

Horcrux.

As Regulus looked down at the old grimoire on his lap, he fought the urge to vomit. Here laid out in black and white was the term, its meaning, and its ritual. How could the Dark Lord possibly have split his soul? No wizard could possibly be that monstrous or insane. And then it came to him, something he recalled the Dark Lord having said to his fledgling Death Eaters in his welcome speech.

'I have travelled the road to immortality, further than any wizard before me.'

Regulus had a bad feeling the leader of the Dark hadn't stopped with a single Horcrux. Looking at this, that didn't bode well. He came to a startling conclusion: The Dark Lord must be stopped. Regulus knew what he had to do. It wouldn't be easy, but it needed to be done. As he considered the price he would have to pay, he decided that he would gladly sacrifice his life if it meant destroying the Dark Lord.

Regulus looked down to his flank where Kreacher stood quietly. He threw on his cloak to shield himself from the elements and slid a fake replica of Slytherin's Locket into his pocket. It wasn't his best work, but it would suffice. He spared his childhood home a final gaze as the finality of his actions today finally hit him. He would never see his family again, his brother, or his mother. He would be branded a Dark wizard, a follower of Voldemort to be hated and reviled. He could accept that, if he succeeded. He would die tonight. Looking back at his devoted elf, he spoke, trying to hid the tremor in his voice.

"Take me to the Cave."

With a reluctant nod, Kreacher bowed his head and held out his hand to his master and Disapparated.

Touching down, the first thing Regulus noticed was the howling winds and crushing waves mere meters away. If he wasn't careful, both of them could easily be swept off. Before them, at the base of the towering cliffs, was a jagged opening in the rocks as black as the night sky. He drew his wand and nonverbally cast a Wand Lighting Charm to see inside. Inside the small cave, he saw no way forward as Kreacher had described, but he felt the ominous threat from the wards around what he knew to be a concealed entrance. The walls themselves wanted to hinder and hurt him. They wanted blood.

Bending down, he picked up a pebble and made quick work of transfiguring it into a nondescript but sharp knife. He brought it to his left hand and made an incision and followed the wards until he found a focus point, a keyhole in essence. The young man squeezed his bleeding palm over the indented part of the wall and healed his wound as he waited. A loud, heavy sound of the walls of rock shifting didn't do anything to sooth his nerves.

The sight that greeted him shook him to his core. With a step forward, Regulus could make out a huge lake. His Lumos seemed weak in that he couldn't even make out a ceiling above his head, but he surmised that the heavy, unnatural darkness made that impossible. Thankful for the meagre light he had managed to produce, he could could only see a few meters in front of him. In the distance, in what looked like the centre of the lake, he could make out a faint, fluorescent green light, almost chillingly reminiscent of the Killing Curse. Regulus shook off the foreboding feeling that desperately tried to consume him as he made his way carefully along the pitch black lake's edge.

Gingerly, he edged along until he could feel the chain Kreacher had mentioned which would reveal the invisible boat. They quickly got in and crossed the unnaturally still waters, unable to stop themselves looking down into the infested depths. Regulus shivered at the thought of the Inferi but thankfully couldn't make out any faces or limbs. They slowly approached the edge of the salt crystal island in the centre and they hoisted themselves out carefully so as not to disturb the creatures below them.

Making their way to the pedestal where the stone basin was located, Regulus grimaced at the fluorescent green light coming from the potion contained within. The Horcrux lay at the bottom. He had read about it in his father's library and had discovered that it was known as the Emerald Potion or the Drink of Despair. When ingested, it caused the drinker to experience nightmarish delusions, intense stomach pain, and an unquenchable thirst. Grabbing a second pebble from the ground, the young heir transfigured a goblet and possibly performing his final piece of magic. He lowered it into the green liquid and brought it to his lips, downing it in one gulp.

As the potion hit his stomach, he cried out in pain and clutched his stomach. Immediately, Kreacher was by his side begging his master not to do this to himself. When Regulus shook his head and ordered his servant to keep replenishing it for him, the old elf took the proffered goblet and refilled it. Bringing it to his mouth, he prepared himself before swallowing its wretched contents. He gasped as his stomach cramped in pain and his mind was assaulted with fresh images of the day Sirius had left. He had tried to stop him, and it had broken his heart to watch his brother leave them. A tear leaked from his eye before it was followed by more. Kreacher handed him his third goblet and Regulus downed it before sobbing again.

This time a horrific memory of Sirius covered in welts and cuts assaulted his mind as he remembered Sirius had taken this punishment to spare him. He was only seven years old and already their pureblood education had already began to turn sour. Sirius had valiantly spared his younger brother every punishment he could. The memory intensified with the next drink as Regulus recalled the Howler Sirius had received upon becoming the first Black to go to Gryffindor in generations as well as the beating his brother had suffered that Christmas.

The fifth goblet hit his stomach harder as the visions redoubled their efforts. He recalled visions of the torture Voldemort had made his fledglings bear witness to upon the Muggles they were to consider filth. Their screams echoed in his head before they died. Their blood was splattered across his fine robes, and their pleading eyes would never escape his mind. Kreacher stood quietly sobbing at his side as he begged his master to drink one more and the basin would be empty. Regulus screamed at his elf and refused. He couldn't take any more of this torture or pain. His throat burned as he protested, and he felt particularly parched.

"Kreacher, please bring me some water."

The elf offered him a goblet of potion and Regulus drank it quickly hoping to quench his terrible thirst. As the potion hit the back of his throat, he expected the thirst to vanish but instead it became almost overwhelming. As further visions tormented him, he screamed and cried at Kreacher who stood crouched and sobbing along with him.

"No more, Kreacher. Enough of this! I need water. Just get me some water, please." Regulus was hunched over on his knees without the strength to get up. Fresh tears rolled freely down his aristocratic face.

"Master, please, this is the last one, I promise, the basin is empty." Kreacher held the final goblet in front of his beloved master, and the young Black took it meekly, trusting his elf.

As he drained the last drop, he gasped at the final torturous vision that swirled to the forefront of his mind. He saw his much older brother standing in what was once their father's study but had now become his brother's as he had seemingly taken up his head of house duties. He watched in anguish as the false image of his brother took a picture of him off the wall to look at it up close. Regulus gasped as he watched his brother drop the picture frame into a waste paper bin so it smashed and muttered that he would wipe away all traces of Death Eater scum from his house.

Regulus clutched his stomach and tried to recover from that last intense vision. The thought of Sirius not only forgetting him but actively banishing all reminders of him was crushing. A man he loved more than anyone else in the world would hate his guts and never whisper his name again. While it was a false image of his worst fear incarnate, Regulus could see how it could happen in reality. Kreacher knelt by his side and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Master, can you stand?" asked the old elf, quietly. Regulus shook his head and then pinned Kreacher with a look of urgency.

"Bring me the false Horcrux, Kreacher." As he watched, Kreacher snapped his fingers and the replica appeared from the place it had been hidden.

He brought it to his master who had reached into his own pocket. He located a piece of parchment and a quill enchanted to never run out of ink. As he put the quill the parchment, he concentrated his hatred on the recipient.

'To the Dark Lord - I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. - R.A.B. '

He made quick work of folding the parchment before pulling the replica Horcrux from his other pocket and stuffed the parchment inside it. Locking the fake with a snap, he handed it to his elf.

"Kreacher, can you swap this with the real Horcrux?" Regulus' voice was cracked and hoarse as he made the request of his faithful servant.

As he watched, Kreacher made his way to the top of the island and stood precariously at the pedestal and stared down at the Horcrux. Once again Regulus shuddered as the elf reached into the basin and lifted the locket out. Aware of its repulsive magic, he quickly dropped the fake into the empty basin and watched as it began to refill with potion. Returning to his master, he cast a look of concern for the young man.

"Master, I beg of you: let this be the end. Let me take you home now," the old elf pleaded at the young heir.

"No. If I stand before the Dark Lord, he will know what I have done and will see the betrayal in my eyes. My life is forfeit one way or the other. He will simply replace this Horcrux, and I will have died in vain. No. You must take this home and destroy it, Kreacher. You must never tell my family what I have done here tonight. If you do, you will only be putting them in danger, and I do not wish that for them. Please, Kreacher, do this for me? It is the last thing I will ever ask of you."

The old elf nodded and cried. Tears rolled down his wrinkled face as he accepted that his master had chosen his own path. He watched as Regulus surrendered to the effects of the potion and began to crawl slowly towards the edge of the lake. His movements were weak and sluggish, and he took a few moments to reach the waters edge. He lowered his hand into the clear liquid and heartily began to drink. The second time his hand touched the surface, ripples began to appear. The third time sealed the deal as the surface erupted into violent splashes, and then Kreacher saw them.

Inferi. Re-animated corpses ambled through the dead water, the rotting limbs already reaching for his young master. Regulus watched them coming and closed his eyes, resigned to his fate. As they inched ever closer, Regulus shivered as he felt the first Inferius touch him with its dead, freezing hand. It secured its hold on him to the point of pain, but the heir didn't fight it as began to pull him into the water. A second Inferius pulled at his foot, holding it in a death grip and Regulus fought the urge to shake it off when a third rose up out of the water and released an inhuman, reverberating growl. There was no way out even if Regulus wanted it. Together, the three decomposing creatures began dragging his weakened body with renewed effort.

As he felt the freezing water beginning to soak his clothes through, he turned back to see if Kreacher had returned home. Instead of an empty shore, he saw Kreacher hadn't moved but was crying softly. Regulus managed a small smile to reassure his elf. Kreacher couldn't bring himself to smile back, but if Regulus could admit it, even only to himself, it was nice having someone there with him. At least he wasn't going to die alone.

Kreacher faithfully stayed even until they had dragged him under the water and he was no longer visible. He stayed. He stayed until the ripples were no more and a twinge on his magic told him his bond with his master was destroyed. Grasping the Horcrux tighter in his hand, Kreacher stared at it with murderous intent. This vile piece of magic had cost his master his life. He would follow his beloved master Regulus' last command and destroy the thing. And the Dark Lord would be one step closer to being mortal.

The old elf vowed, even if the world forgot Regulus, he never would.

With that, Kreacher returned home.