In the ornately furnished bedroom on the topmost floor of 12 Grimmauld Place, Regulus sat pouring over that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet, hoping to add to his collection of clippings about the Dark Lord and his followers that adorned his walls. His head popped up when someone knocked on his door. With his parents away from the house to attend a Yule ball at the Nott family home, Regulus could only assume that it was his brother unexpectedly knocking. Kreacher would have simply Apparated into his room. Annoyed at the interruption, he rose from his desk to pull open the door, eyeing his brother quizzically when he noticed the over-packed rucksack slung over one shoulder.

"Where are you off to?" Regulus asked as he crossed his arms over his chest, internally rolling his eyes at the Muggle-style leather jacket Sirius insisted on wearing. "Somewhere that won't make Mother and Father happy, I'm sure."

"Bugger what they think," Sirius said with a smirk, his expression quickly turning uncharacteristically somber. "Actually...there's something I need to say before I go."

Regulus narrowed his eyes in suspicion, eyeing the rucksack again. "Before you go where?"

"Away."

"For good, you mean," he stated, to which Sirius nodded in response.

He was not at all surprised by this. Earlier that evening, Regulus had listened from his bedroom as his parents had yelled and berated Sirius, not bothering to use a Silencing Charm as they told him once more what a disgrace he was to the House of Black. This had been nothing terribly surprising; Sirius was often doing things to send their parents—particularly their mother—into a tirade.

"Are you going to tell them where you're going?" Regulus asked, although their parents had to know Sirius would head straight to the Potter residence. His brother was only sixteen. He couldn't live on his own.

"I left a letter," Sirius said with a shrug.

Despite their differences, Regulus knew his brother well and could see through the bravado he used as a shield. "That's it, then?"

Sirius nodded and opened his mouth to speak. He hesitated, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before he finally said, "You'll have a choice to make one of these days."

"To leave home? Yeah. I'll do that after Hogwarts." Sirius might be willing to live off charity, but Regulus wasn't.

"No. You'll have a choice to make about what sort of wizard you want to be." His brother's voice had a mesmerizing quality. "You can believe what our parents want you to believe, end up a Death Eater. A murderer." Sirius' grey eyes blazed with intensity. "Or you can think for yourself. Leave pure-blood fantasy behind and join me in the real world." He put his hand on Regulus' shoulder and gripped it tight. "I'll show you people and places beyond anything you've dreamed about."

Annoyed that he was slightly tempted, Regulus stepped back and replied bitingly, "I've made my choice, thanks."

The light died in Sirius' eyes. "All right," he said as he adjusted the large rucksack on his shoulder. "I hope...in the end, I hope you choose differently."

Regulus stared at his brother for a long moment, knowing that they had long followed separate paths and that it was time to part ways. Sirius' eyes seemed to be pleading with him, but Regulus ignored the plea and raised one brow in a perfect imitation of his mother. What did he care if his over-inflated git of a brother wanted to be a reckless Gryffindor and get himself killed by joining this "Order" that he'd heard rumors of. Why should that change his plans? He was perfectly happy to follow the Dark Lord, feeling extremely proud to be considered for his ranks. Regulus couldn't wait until he was old enough to take the Dark Mark; a token of his loyalty to a cause he deeply believed in.

With a sad smile and another shake of his head, Sirius turned and thundered down the stairs—no doubt one last nod to Kreacher, who had attempted since they were children to convince Sirius that polite young Pure-bloods didn't create such a ruckus that common Mudblood children would.

Eager to get back to the article outlining the latest in what the Prophet called bizarre attacks that could only be attributed to the Dark Lord, Regulus shut his door, shaking away the thought that, aside from glimpses in the corridors of Hogwarts, he was unlikely to see his brother again.

.

Four years later . . . .

With his pulse thundering in his ears and hands shaking so badly he was sure he wouldn't be able to properly fire a spell if needed, Regulus crouched over a figure lying on the stone floor of the kitchen in his childhood home. Kreacher was huddled at his feet, moaning and writhing in pain. Amid his distress, he was able to tell the tale of what had happened when the Dark Lord had taken him to the cave. Regulus swallowed the bile that rose up his throat as he heard the details of the terrible task he'd been asked to complete.

This was how his elf's loyalty was rewarded?

Outraged that the creature had been treated so terribly and with such disregard—being left to die without a thought—Regulus ran a shaking hand through his black hair, his brother's words from years before inexplicably running through his head.

"You'll have a choice to make one of these days..."

The words echoed through his mind as clearly as if Sirius had spoken them just moments before. Seeing his poor elf huddled on the ground, used and cast aside for the sake of one of his master's grandiose plans, Regulus truly understood what his brother had tried to tell him years ago. At the time, he had been so sure of his choice to follow the Death Eaters, to join them. So sure that he was choosing the right path. Now he was nearly just as sure that he'd made the wrong choice.

For weeks he had been questioning the tasks and responsibilities he and his fellow Death Eaters were being charged with. As the Dark Lord's following grew, so did his plans and paranoia. Kreacher's treatment was the final straw. The last piece of the puzzle Regulus needed to guide him in the right direction. He couldn't go back and make a different choice, but he could try to change the course of the future.

Regulus helped Kreacher with his terrible thirst and tucked him in safely in his den next to the pantry. Once the elf was sleeping peacefully, he left the house and Apparated to an obscure book store run by a Durmstrang graduate-turned Death Eater. It was time to confirm a suspicion he'd been holding for a while.

.

Two days later, Regulus stood in the bedroom that had been his since he could remember. It's walls were still adorned with the clippings of the Dark Lord's supposed achievements. The site of these articles used to bolster him against doubt. Now it sickened him.

With his hands shaking just as forcefully as they had when Kreacher had returned—this time shaking in terror rather than rage—Regulus penned a note to his master. After placing the folded piece of parchment into the locket, he turned to see Kreacher wringing his hands worriedly. Pushing his panic aside, Regulus bent low to reassure the elf, knowing his words were meaningless. They both knew he was likely headed to his doom, and Kreacher couldn't disobey a direct order, no matter how badly he wanted to protect a member of the Black family. Determined to do anything to weaken the Dark Lord's plans, Regulus held out his hand for Kreacher to grasp, allowing the loyal elf to Apparated him away to complete his plan.

.

The Knowing consumed Regulus the moment his body failed and he travelled beyond the Veil. The answers to all he could want to know was known as he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. Beyond all earthly understanding, The Knowing wasn't something felt until death, when the choices made in life, along with their consequences, were presented all at once. He immediately understood the depth of his terrible decision to follow the Dark Lord.

The Knowing also provided him with a constant window to life on the other side. Whether this was in penance or not, Regulus wasn't sure. Even though time was now irrelevant, he was compelled to watch events unfold on the other side, bound into knowing it all; the good and the terrible.

He'd had to watch as the Potters married and bore a son, only to see them murdered by the Dark Lord. He'd watched as his brother had revelled in the near-familial closeness of his friends before being sent to Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. His parents had both died, never knowing the truth about either of their sons. Friends from school had died at the hands of the Dark Lord. And, most painfully, he'd had to watch as the loyal Black family House Elf was left alone in the large empty house, driven to near madness after years of solitude.

Regulus watched as the Dark Lord rose again and his brother escaped from Azkaban, relatively free, but only for a short time. The Knowing made him understand that his brother's life would come to an untimely end. He knew the spell was going to hit Sirius even before the incantation had left his cousin Bellatrix's lips.

When Sirius appeared and looked at Regulus with no question in his eyes, he was not surprised; The Knowing had taken hold of his brother just as it had him when he'd crossed the Veil years before. Regulus stared at the man before him, glad that, in death, he looked as young as the last time he'd seen him alive. He waited, allowing Sirius the chance to speak first, as he knew this is what his older brother wanted.

"Good choice, in the end," Sirius said with a smirk. "Took you long enough, you great prat."

Regulus smiled, wondering if he now had eternity to endure his older brother rubbing it in his face that he'd been right.

"You're not sad about how your death came about," Regulus said, knowing it to be a true statement.

"I'd much rather have gone out in a blaze of glory rather than have Kreacher finally throw over his loyalty and poison me," Sirius replied.

Regulus chuckled at his brother's easy humor, knowing the elf could never have poisoned him. "Shall we watch your reckless godson do what nobody else can?"

The Knowing gave Regulus—and now, he knew, Sirius—the peace of mind that Harry Potter was indeed the one who could bring down the Dark Lord. Just as he had hoped in life, Regulus knew in death that the Dark Lord would meet his match in the young man the wizarding world would come to acknowledge as 'The Chosen One'.

A/N: This is for round 6 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction competition

Challenge: Cult Classics, Chaser 3: The Matrix

Prompts: 1. (word) token, 6. (word) visitor, 11. (word limit) 1833