Prologue
Getting to the cave had certainly been a task. A muggle would never have been able to manage it. Of course, it would have been nice if he had been able to Apparate inside the cave, but of course, the Dark Lord – no! He musntn't call him that, even in his head. Voldemort. Yes. That was his name. Regulus suppressed a shudder that soon turned into a shiver. His teeth were chattering and he hastily dried himself off with his wand. Looking around, he saw Kreacher, their old house-elf, lying down on the stone floor. The poor thing must have been exhausted. Regulus dried the house-elf off as well, and picked him up. A whispered Lumos cast a feeble light ahead of him. This was a different kind of darkness. A darker darkness. Regulus suppressed another shudder, and squared his shoulders. He had come here to do a job. A job that he was determined to do, even if he had to die for it. He probably would die for it. A wry smile twisted the handsome features that were now weary, and Regulus crept forward in the darkness, his footsteps ringing on the stone floor.
He reached the wall that would demand blood. He really hadn't been looking forward to this part. He gently lay Kreacher down on the floor and shook back his sleeve. Regulus murmured a spell and traced his wand over his wrist. A fine line of scarlet appeared, blood beading along it, and for a moment, he toyed with the idea of letting the cut grow deeper and putting an end to it all.
"Master?" a scared voice whispered from beside him in the darkness.
"I'm fine," Regulus answered, a little abruptly. He let a bit of the red liquid gather at the end of his wand, and traced the letters R-A-B onto the blank wall in front of him. It didn't much matter how the blood was smeared, but it was in Regulus' nature to make things as dramatic as possible. Even though he and Kreacher were the only ones who would ever see it.
The blazing silver outline of an arch appeared in the wall like a doorway, leading to more darkness. Regulus lit his wand once more, not bothering to heal his sliced wrist, and motioned for Kreacher to follow him. They were standing on the edge of a great black lake, so vast that the distant bank was nowhere to be seen. A misty greenish light shone in what must have been the middle of the lake. Just like Snape said it would be, Regulus couldn't help thinking. How did Snape get all his information? And how had he managed to hide his disloyalty to…Voldemort for so long? Regulus knew that once he had carried out this task, he would most likely be tortured and killed. He was more than willing to face the consequences, but a small part of him couldn't help but twinge in jealousy at Snape's precarious, but seemingly safe (for now) position. Of course, he had Dumbledore on his side. And while Regulus' actions put him, too, on the side of the muggleborns, he didn't fancy begging Dumbledore (or anyone, for that matter) for forgiveness and acceptance. He had chosen his battles, knowing full well what might happen. He didn't have to snivel and cower behind those mightier than him. That's not fair, a little voice in his head told him. He knew it was right. He only wished he'd listened to it before.