Notes: For the Hunger Games Fanfic Style III competition at the HPFC forums. Prompts used: word, emotion, genre, AU setting, and weapon.

A Dying Star

One thing Regulus Black had learned while working for Lord Voldemort was that he had enough matter cannons to blow up the entire galaxy. No one knew the exact number, but to him, that mattered little. Regulus was in charge of one such station, and that was all he needed.

He needed only one matter cannon, after all, to blow up a star. More specifically, the first system Lord Voldemort and his crew had discovered. It was a widely-known fact that this system was entirely deserted, it's five rocky planets orbiting far too close to the red supergiant to sustain an atmosphere. This was both his greatest achievement, and his greatest failure.

"Master Regulus." Kreacher's voice startled him. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

Tell me everything is going to be okay.

Kreacher had no idea there would be need for such a request. For Kreacher, it was a day like any other. They'd woken up, made sure everything was in order, then traveled to a remote destination Regulus had set, close to a sun he'd never seen. As captain of a matter cannon, Regulus was to be prepared to be called into action to destroy the planets sought to terrorize, and Kreacher was to aid him.

In retrospect, Regulus should have been horrified. But terrorizing billions of sentient beings never bothered him until he'd met Kreacher. Kreacher had been given to Regulus as "prize for his hard work" or, as Regulus said, as a slave, bound to obey by magic far too dark even for Regulus' understanding. Or so Lord Voldemort claimed. After all, Regulus had also been gifted a whip in case Kreacher refused to carry out his orders - or in case he was angry enough to want to hurt someone, and Kreacher was within reach.

That was the beginning of the end. Regulus wanted to hurt someone alright, but that wasn't Kreacher. He didn't want to keep a slave. He'd bonded with Kreacher, treating him more like a partner. But he was still the one in charge. And every single day of his life, Regulus had to live with the fact Kreacher aided him against his will.

Kreacher belonged to an ancient magical race that had seen entire galactic civilizations rise and fall before the explorers of the modern era set sail. No other explorer had dared mess with the eerie sort of magic this race's lone planet irradiated. Voldemort was different. He was a conqueror. He would destroy and enslave every intelligent being he met. It was that, or a painful death.

Regulus refused to be the former, so naturally, he would be the latter. And he would make sure that Kreacher didn't have to follow.

"There is an important message I need you to deliver to…" the words got stuck in his throat, and his voice broke into a desperate whisper as he pushed an envelope into Kreacher's hand. "I need you to use the escape pod and find my brother, Kreacher. Go to the Godric system, find Sirius, and give him this."

"But sir-"

"I don't care how long it takes." And then, the biggest lie he could tell. "I will be waiting."

"Yes, sir," Kreacher said finally.

Regulus didn't set into motion until the escape pod went into hyperspace, disappearing from his view. Now that he was on his own, he could leave the cockpit and walk down the hallway to the cannon room. The cannon was fully loaded, waiting to be fired at the nearest unsuspecting celestial object. Regulus only had to take position, aim it, and turn it blinding stream of light and matter started pouring into the chosen star. Now he just had to wait.

Sirius always said that space was far too big for Regulus. Too vast, too lonely, too full of possibilities for anyone who wished for a quiet life. Regulus had discovered that space was full of death, suffering, and injustice. Just thinking of what Lord Voldemort had done to Kreacher's race made his vision go red and his heart burst in righteous fury. Space was just the right size for a man to learn everything he needed to know to make the right choices.

And Regulus was going to blow up a star.

It was not a symbolic act. Lord Voldemort had scattered his weapon arsenal throughout the galaxy, Regulus had come across a once-in-a-lifetime lead as to the location of one of his hiding places. It was easy to see why Lord Voldemort chose this system. But Regulus had one shot at getting this right, before Lord Voldemort discovered he'd disobeyed direct orders and punished him with death. He couldn't spend his all his resources, his life included, searching for these weapons in five different planets.

So he was going to do the impossible - he would kill a sun, and with it, an entire system. He was certain he could feed the star enough matter to force it to go supernova. No one had attempted it, because if successful, the resulting explosion would certainly kill them.

That's how Regulus was going to die, and failure was not an option.

It seemed surreal, too far away for him to grasp - and yet, these were his last minutes. In his mind, there was still a future. Kreacher would come back, he would reconcile with Sirius, and when this war was over, he could reunite with Barty and tell him how he felt. He had so much left to live for. This couldn't be the end. This couldn't be it.

The light was getting more intense. It was almost enveloping the station like a halo. If the star would go supernova, Regulus wouldn't be able to see it. He'd always dreamed with witnessing such an amazing cosmic event. He'd gone to space for its beauty. He wanted to discover new stars, meet new races, and let the galaxy surprise him with all its glory. But he'd seen the worst of his kind, and for all his troubles, he'd never even witnessed a star's death and he was going to miss his last chance.

That's when it hit him that he was going to die before he got the chance to live.

That's when it hit him, as he closed his eyes and braced himself for the explosion, that it might all be in vain. Lord Voldemort had more weapons. This changed nothing. The only thing that he'd succeeded in was sending Kreacher to where Lord Voldemort couldn't reach him.

He could only save a single sentient being in the galaxy, and it was too late to do anything other than hope it was worth it.