Hi. This little piece is written for:
.Oh The Thinks You Can Think Competition - Bartholomew Cubbins
Screaming
Regulus took a deep breath, wrinkling his nose at the stale air inside the cave. He could feel Kreacher trembling, hovering close to his leg. He pulled a long, silver dagger from his belt. It was a gift from Bellatrix. Regulus' mouth twisted into a half-smile at the irony of the fact that the gift would be used to help defeat the Dark Lord.
He pressed the sharp blade to his palm and dragged it across his skin swiftly. Ignoring the sharp sting, he let the blood drip onto the rocks before him. They cracked open and ground open to reveal a ragged doorway. Regulus ducked his head and slipped through, Kreacher on his heel.
Regulus paused at the room before him. He could immediately feel the damper on his magic, and he moved forward quickly to seat himself in the small boat that floated delicately in the large murky pool of water. With a tap from Regulus' wand, the boat was moving leisurely across the water toward a small protrusion of land in the center of the lake. When it hit the shore, Regulus climbed from the boat and approached an illuminated bowl in the middle of the island. A silver locket glimmered faintly at the bottom of the bowl.
After glancing down at Kreacher, he reached toward the bowl but found his hand blocked by an invisible barrier. He quickly conjured a goblet and tried again. It cut into the potion effortlessly.
"Kreacher?" When the nervous elf looked up at him tremulously, Regulus swallowed hard and instructed, "Kreacher, I-I have to drink this." He held the half-full goblet up. "I don't know what it's going to do with me, but regardless of what happens, you must make me finish it. Take the locket at the bottom – it's important. Take it and destroy it, understand?" Kreacher looked like he was about to protest but nodded meekly.
Regulus lifted the goblet to his lips and gulped down the first glassful. It felt warm in his stomach – uncomfortably warm. He quickly refilled the glass and drank it down. Fire began to race through his body, starting in his stomach and shooting to the very tips of his very fingers and toes.
After the fourth gobletful, the fire reached his mind. And that was when it started.
His body was weak and burning, but his mind was alive and screaming. Memories flashed through his head, each worse than the last.
He could see his first murder flash before his eyes – initiation night, the night he realized that the Dark Lord's inner circle wasn't quite as great as the others made it out to be. He was dragged down to a little house out on the outskirts of London by Bellatrix and Lucius and forced to murder the family inside. He could still see the horror and fear on the young witch's face as she woke to her husband being murdered.
Regulus screamed and gripped the goblet with white fingers. It fell to the ground with a muted thud. Within moments, it was full and being pressed to his lips again.
"Kreacher is sorry, Master Regulus. Kreacher is so sorry. He is only following Master Regulus' orders. Drink, Master Regulus." Kreacher tipped the potion down Regulus' throat. He refilled the goblet and forced Regulus to drink again.
Torture was almost worse than outright murder. He had been there with Bellatrix the night that the Longbottoms had been driven to insanity. Alice's face as she screamed, her face contorted in agony –
The goblet exploded in little bits of clay and wood. Kreacher repaired it wordlessly and emptied the remaining potion in the bowl into the glass.
"Kreacher, no, please…"
Kreacher let out a distressed cry and grabbed his long ears, twisting them between his fingers. The potion spilled over the damp earth beneath them, only to reappear in the bowl. The elf refilled the goblet with tremulous fingers and pressed it to Regulus' mouth again.
"Please, Master Regulus. Just one more," Kreacher whimpered, and forced the potion into Regulus' protesting mouth.
Regulus was suddenly overcome with thirst. "Kreacher, water. I need water."
Kreacher ran to the edge of the lake frantically and dipped the goblet into the water. He turned to run back to Regulus but was stopped by a cold, clammy hand grabbing his leg. With a frightened squeak, he apparated back to Regulus' side and poured the cool water down his master's throat.
Regulus gained a bit of strength and propped himself up on one shaky arm. He looked up at his despairing house elf just in time to see a pale, wet hand emerge from the water and claw at the moist dirt outside of the water. Several more appeared around the edge of the lake. Hands gave way to forearms, shoulders, heads, torsos, and eventually, entire bodies.
Inferi. He should have known that the Dark Lord would have more protection than just the potion, which had been hellish enough in and of itself.
"Master Regulus," Kreacher whimpered from his side.
Regulus picked up his wand but it fell uselessly back down to the ground. He was too tired, too weak, to cast any spells at all. He gasped out, "Kreacher, fire."
A sudden blast of heat hit him in the face, and Regulus pried open his eyes to see a wall of fire surrounding them, protecting them from the approaching Inferi.
"Kreacher, take the locket." Regulus reached into the bowl and gripped the cold metal, handing it to the elf. He removed a near-perfect replica from his robes, scribbled a note, and placed it in the bowl instead. With a weak wave of his wand, the potion filled the bowl once again. "You must destroy this. Do you understand me? You have to destroy it." Kreacher nodded fearfully. "Now go, Kreacher. Apparate home. I forbid you from ever coming back here."
"Master Regulus, no! Please!" Tears were beginning to leak from Kreacher's large green eyes. "You must not! Let Kreacher return for Master Regulus!"
"Kreacher, no." Regulus' voice was firm. "Go!"
With one last protest, Kreacher Disapparated with a loud crack. The fire disappeared with him, leaving the room illuminated eerily by the greenish potion. The Inferi began creeping forward again.
Regulus' wand was lying uselessly off to his left, but he knew it wouldn't be much help to him. He couldn't hold off the monsters for long, even if he hadn't drank the potion.
Cold hands grasped his wrists and ankles, gripping, pulling. Regulus screamed and tried to yank his limbs back, but the grip of the hand was too tight. He was pulled toward the edge of the water and into it.
The hands pulled him under and cold, dirty water pressed into his ears, made his hair weightless. Regulus opened his mouth in a silent yell and the filthy liquid rushed in, filling his mouth and nose, choking him. He screamed one last time, bubbles rising uselessly toward the surface, and he was gone.
Regulus Black wasn't a likely hero, but he did what needed to be done. After all, nobody else seemed to see that the Dark Lord was getting much too powerful and much, much too sadistic. And those who did see it didn't have the courage to stand up to him. Regulus wouldn't call going down screaming very courageous, but nobody would ever really know, would they?
Drop me a review? :P
