A/N: I've noticed in fics dealing with the Death Eaters in the first War era, nothing is ever even hinted at about Regulus Black and the Horcruxes. I find that very upsetting, it was a crucial (yet small) point in the books. What with Regulus having taken the real locket and all. However, I'm getting much better at writing for my beloved Severus. So I give my fans this "second chance" fic, revolving around Severus with Regulus playing a key part!
And I know you all will probably hate me because I now have FOUR fanfics going (The Fairest One of All, Obsidian Fire, Beyond the Soul [which I'm not sure I'll finish], and this one), but I promise I will be totally updating more frequently!
One last thing: -dances- I'm so happy with this chapter. Okay, that's not the last thing, just wanted to say that. I may be starting a Harry Potter VBlog here pretty soon. I've got a nice webbycam and my favourite HP VBlogger hasn't updated since January. :B So I'd like to know if you all have any questions about me or my opinions on HP stuff for me to answer in my first few VBlogs. Leave them in a review! Also, love to know your opinions on this. Never written in first person present before
My face is wet with tears and – wait, what? How can my face be wet when my face is nonexistent?
My throat no longer aches, and… Why am I able to tell that? Why can I feel?
If I can feel… can I move? I lift my head. Yes, I can move. What in Merlin's name is going on?
I can't see. It's black. So what am I to do? Open my eyes? Yes. I open my eyes.
It's still dark. I wonder absently where I am. I should still be in the Shrieking Shack, yes. Someone obviously saved me from bleeding to death, though how I am not entirely sure. What do I remember?
I remember the Dark Lord believing that it was I who was the true master of the Elder Wand. The Stick of Destiny. What a load of bullocks. There is no such thing, the Hallows do not exist. Well, perhaps excepting that damned cloak. It's at least lasted through two generations of Potters, and hasn't lost an ounce of its powers as far as I can tell.
But enough about that. I remember him sending Nagini flying towards me. That pain. Oh, Merlin, that pain. It was almost welcoming, though. Death would have been a relief. But I am obviously not dead. What do I recall after that?
I recall… memories. Many of them. Pleasant and not-so-pleasant. I released them. Because Potter needed to know what was coming. He needed to be warned that he must die in order to vanquish the Dark Lord. And then I remember… Lily. Lily's eyes. That lovely green. How was she there?
Oh yes. That was Potter. Alright, now I am disgusted with myself. And if I'm still alive… Oh, dear lord. Potter still has those memories, I would think. I am not dead, and he knows I loved his mother. Could this be any worse?
My eyes have adjusted to the light. The layout of this room seems different than I recall. Perhaps I was simply not paying attention. Of course I was not, I was busy pleading for my life. So I could alert Potter.
I stand up and cross to the door, passing a bureau with a mirror placed atop it.
That is not my reflection… is it?
I pause at the mirror. My face is so much thinner. I'm so much thinner. And my hair… the same length, but much less greasy. Is this what I looked like as a teenager? Ugh, I aged well, that's for sure.
I'm just delirious, that's all. And dizzy as hell. Blood loss does that, I suppose.
I step out into the hallway.
The layout of the Shack has completely changed. The hallway to the left ends abruptly. It shouldn't. There should still be another three rooms. There is not. The corridor to the right leads down the stairs.
I hear shouting. And something glass breaking.
There's a scream.
That was not just glass. That was a bottle. A bottle of some rather disgusting Muggle alcohol.
I know exactly where I am. How did I get here?
I hear more shouting, the words slurred and incoherent. I can make out a few words and phrases. Son. Ugly. Freak, the both of you.
No. No, no no. I shut my eyes. No. I'm dead. Let me be dead. Not back here. I'm not here. I'm in the Shrieking Shack. Or I'm dead. Not here. Not here.
There's a loud thud from downstairs. I know what I'll see when I go down there. Her head hitting the edge of the counter, blood spattering against the floor.
Is this hell? I had never given a thought to either heaven or hell, but now I was certain. This was hell, and I was doomed to relive my worst memories for all eternity. This was going to be worse than living.
"Stop it! Stop it!" she shrieked. I take one step down the stairs.
"…psycho bitch!" More tinkling of glass against the floor, a sputtering noise and something rolling across the floor. She had just lost a tooth. Blood was pouring from her mouth, I was sure.
"Toby…! Tobias, STOP IT!" she sobbed. I take another step.
A dragging noise; he pulled her from the floor to her feet. By the hair. I take another two steps.
Crack. Her already injured head smacking against the refrigerator. Two more steps.
"…fuckin' with m' head…!" Crack. Again, head snapping back against the refrigerator as he shook her.
One more step. I reach the first floor. I can see the light from the kitchen to my immediate right.
I can't do this. I can't watch him kill her again. Knowing that there is nothing I can do about it. My wand is locked away….
No. No, I can feel it in my pocket. That's not right. I distinctly remember, he had taken it at this point and locked it away with his alcohol and firearms. Why is my wand in my pocket?
I can do something about this. This time I can! This can't be hell.
I turn the corner, my hand silently slipping into my pocket.
"Severus! Severus, please!" she cries, seeing my wand. She has no idea how I got it, but she doesn't care.
Now he puts his hand to her throat. I know that he's going to try to choke her. I know that he's going to throw her aside in a minute to hurt me. And in the process, she is going to hit her head on the counter again and break her neck.
But that won't happen this time.
"Avada Kedavra!"
First of all, I cannot believe those were the words I chose to use. If I remember correctly, I am not yet a Death Eater. That happens tomorrow. And here I am, killing people already.
Second off, I just murdered my own father. I suppose I can't really call him a father anymore, that son of a bitch. I haven't called him father since I was six. I haven't called him father for thirty-two years. Or, at this point, twelve years. How old does that really make me?
I can't bother with these thoughts. Tobias falls to the floor. My instincts snap back into gear. I shove my wand into my pocket and stumble forward to catch my mother as she falls.
"S-Severus… My boy… My little boy…"
I hold her tightly to my chest. I haven't called her mother for years, either. All she ever did was deflect his rage away from her and on to me. But she was still my mother. She still fed and clothed me. She never locked me in my bedroom with no food or water for days on end, until I was on the brink of death. She even occasionally gave me a galleon or two to go to Flourish and Blotts.
She was my mum, and regardless of her actions, I still love her. She still treated me a hundred times better than that drunk ever did.
"Yes, Eileen." My voice sounds foreign. "I'm here. And you're here. You're safe."
My second chance has finally begun.
