Round Nine
Regulus Black
Write about your character/pairing making the first move in something, or towards someone
(word) Present
(word) Blind
Two figures stood outside the entrance to a small cave, their shadows cutting impressive figures across the deserted land. One was significantly taller than the other, and if there had been anyone there to witness them they would have said that it appeared to be a man and a child standing in the muted glow of the waxen moon.
Where they were standing on the jut of rock was not easily accessible – it was not, in fact, a place where anyone would be able to get to without some form of assistance. This did not seem to concern them in the slightest, however, and they did not stop to take in the scenic view that very few had seen before them and that even fewer would see after.
Instead, they both walked with a purpose towards the mouth of the cave – the taller moving gracefully with long, even strides, whilst the shorter of the pair struggled to keep up and moved with the gait of one unused to such excursions.
They paused once they had reached the back of the cave, staring at the solid stone wall as if it was going to open up to them and reveal the all of the secrets of the universe. After a few minutes of nothing happening, the taller man glanced down at his companion, a questioning look on his face.
"M-master must bleed," he stuttered in a deep and croaky voice that proved him to be much older than his silhouette gave him credit for.
The taller man nodded, removed a knife from his belt, and held his left hand out in front of him. He grasped the knifes blade in between shaking fingers and watched as a steady trickle of blood rose from the open wound and made small rivulets down his wrist and arm. He held his hand palm out towards the stone wall and smeared his blood across surface with a slight grimace of pain and disgust.
The wall began to open up to them, slowly at first, to reveal another cave behind the one that they were already in. This cave seemed impossible in size, too big to support itself within the side of the cliff without collapsing, and the lake filled with murky green water glowed too brightly to be entirely natural.
He pulled a long stick from within to confines of his robes and waved it over his hand, the wound knitting itself back together in a matter of seconds leaving no trace that it had ever existed, save for a small amount of blood on the cave floor.
Both figures walked slowly into the cave, keeping an eye on the opening in the rock surface as if they didn't quite believe that it wouldn't close and leave trapped so deeply inside the cliff face that they could no longer hear the deafening roar of the sea outside.
They both hesitantly made their way over to the shore of the indoor lake staring at the green water in both awe and fear, watching the deathly still surface for any signs of movement. They stopped next to a little boat – held together by mere willpower, it seemed – the taller man carefully stepped into it and, once seated, helped his companion to do the same.
The boat began to move through the body of the water without any input from either of them, disturbing the surface and leaving large ripples in its wake. His companion dipped a long fingered hand into the smooth surface of the water; a pale hand gripped onto the side of the boat, skin almost translucent in the green light, bony fingers digging into the wood as flesh and fingernails struggled to stay intact.
With a flick of his wand the hand disappeared back into the murky depths of the water, but the illusion of calm had been shattered. Leaning carefully over the side of the boat – ensuring that he kept as far away from the surface as possible – he was greeted with hundreds of milky white eyes staring unblinkingly at him from just below the surface of the water.
He glanced quickly at his companion – rocking slowly back and forth, muttering to himself under his breath words that didn't quite make up full sentences – before turning back to the water. The bodies floated around the boat – still but moving with them – going down as far as his eye could see and completely obscuring the bottom of the lake.
Inferi.
After that, he made sure that neither of them got too close to the edge of the boat or disturbed the surface in any way. The sat in the boat – one calm and patient, almost calculating in his intensity, and the other still rocking, shaking and muttering to himself.
The boat reached the other side with a gentle thump that knocked the smaller figure forward into his companion, causing him to emit a small squeak of fear before resuming his shaking and muttering. The other stood slowly, stretching out the kinks in his back caused from being in such a confined space that restricted his movements.
They walked together to the centre of the island until they reached the large stone basin situated at its centre, one standing tall and the other cowering at his feet.
"Do you remember what I told you?" The man looked down at his companion, an oddly compassionate expression adorning his features. At the creatures hesitant nod, he continued, "Once the potion is gone, switch the lockets. Then leave. Understood?" Another nod was the only response he received.
He reached into the basin and used the goblet inside to scoop up a portion of the glowing green liquid. He got down onto his knees and offered the goblet to his companion, smiling encouragingly when he accepted it. The creature slowly lifted the goblet with a determination that almost detracted from the shaking of his hands, and brought it up level with his chin.
"No! Me." The man nearly shouted, eyes wide as he watched his companion almost take a sip of the glowing potion. "That's an order," he added upon noticing the mutinous expression on his face.
With only minimal complaining, the creature lifted the goblet to his companion's lips and gently poured the liquid down his throat, wincing slightly at the pained expression on his master's face. As they continued to drain the basin he prepared himself for the pain to increase with each mouthful of the foul liquid, but he had not anticipated the resurgence of some of his worst and most painful memories being played out behind his eyes.
He was four years old; and he didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to hide from the thunder storm.
He was eleven; and he had to look at the expression of pure hatred on his brothers face as he made his way over to the figures all clad in green, applauding him for making it into their esteemed house.
Fourteen; and he watched from his place hidden in the shadows on the floor above as his brother and mother screamed at each other in the hallway, his brothers packed trunk discarded at his feet to enable him to more effectively use his hands to show their mother what exactly he thought of her.
Sixteen; and the burning pain of The Mark being branded into his flesh made his vision blur, but he kept the scream that he felt building in his chest at bay knowing that he could never show any signs of weakness in front of these people lest they remember and exploit it later on for their own personal gain.
Eighteen; and the man he had admired for years proved to be nothing more than a fraud. He was not going to change the world for the better; he simply aimed to become immortal and to destroy anyone that stood in his way. He was not the saviour that they had been looking for, merely the catalyst for the events that would ultimately lead to all of their demise.
With a scream of pain, he was brought back to the present; his companion was wringing his hands nervously, looking down at him every so often with panic clearly visible in his every action and expression. The empty goblet lay abandoned on the floor next to his face – and when had he lain down? – a few stray drops of the glowing green liquid pooled slightly in its concave surface.
"D-did you..." he stuttered, before his dry throat caused him to give up the poor attempt at speech.
"Kreacher did as master asked, sir," the house elf stated proudly, still with a hint of worry gracing his expression. He held out the original locket, its golden surface and glittering green stones shining brightly in the limited light that the cave seemed to emit.
"G-goo-dd. Now go," he instructed, knowing that the creature could not disobey a direct order no matter how much he wanted to. With a loud crack, the elf was gone, leaving behind only a small scuffed ring around the prone form of his master from the pattern of his constant footfalls.
Dragging himself away from the basin and across the small island back to the lake, he reached out his hand and dipped it into the murky water. The inferi immediately jumped into action, pulling themselves to the surface and clawing their way onto the island with him. Their cold, dead hands grabbed onto every part of him that they could reach, fingers digging into vulnerable flesh and rotting nails leaving ragged crescent shapes in his skin.
He put up as much of a struggle as he was able to in his weakened state, but it did nothing to hinder their grasping hands as they pulled him below the surface of the cold water. He felt his lungs seize up in protest to the lack of oxygen, and all of the air escaped them when a strong arm wound itself around his waist and pulled dragging him further into the depths of the lake and blocking out any remaining light.
As the burning in his lungs intensified, there was only one thought left in his mind; he was not concerned with his imminent death – he had known that it was coming for a while – and nor was he concerned with how his few remaining family members and friend would react upon receiving the news.
He was only left with the hope that when the time came for the Dark Lord to face his match – whoever that may be – he would have at least helped in making him mortal once more.
The Saviour now had an opening.