Memories of R.A.B

He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look his brother, thought he was smaller, slighter, and rather less handsome than Sirius had been.

"He played Seeker," said Harry.

"What?" said Hermione vaguely; she was still immersed in Voldemort's press clippings.

"He's sitting in the middle of the front row, that's where the Seeker... Never mind," said Harry, realizing that nobody was listening... - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

In retrospect, he had been stupid. Extremely stupid. So stupid, that it had gone beyond stupid.

Damn, he was babbling. Sirius always made fun of him when he started babbling.

Sirius had also been the first one to tell him he was stupid. Regulus should've listened.

"Listen to your brother," his mother once lectured him, standing tall before a five-year-old Regulus, who felt quite small in front of the imposing figure. "He's a year older than you, and so will understand the Black family ways before you do. He'll go through all the traditions a year before you, so it would do you good to listen to him. Do you understand?"

Regulus nodded solemnly, dark grey eyes staring at his mother.

"Good. Come, Reggie, let's go find food."

Even his mother knew he should have listened. Or, she had known once. And maybe she still did know, but didn't want to admit it.

A fifteen year old Regulus watched warily at the back of the room, as his mother screamed, and jabbed her wand at the family tree. In one second, Sirius's name had been obliterated from it. He was no longer recognized as a Black in their eyes. Panting slightly, his mother turned around, her glare falling on him.

"Since Sirius," her mouth twisted around the word, as if it was a curse, "Has seen fit to disobey us again and again, he is no longer the Black heir. From now on, Regulus, you are my only son, and are the heir to everything. Do you understand?" Her black eyes bore into his. "Everything."

Again, Regulus nodded, just like he had, when he was five-years-old.

That night, he tried to bring his brother back.

"She misses you," Regulus was saying.

"As if," Sirius scoffed, crossing his arms, as he leaned against the Potter's doorway. He stood a head taller than Regulus, bearing down on him, just as their mother did.

"You're her son, of course she misses you!" he tried.

"She probably blasted me off the family tree already."

Regulus couldn't deny that. "Just come home, Sirius," he begged.

"I am home," Sirius shot back.

"Sirius –"

The door had already closed.

Regulus stared.

He had failed.

He went home, guilt and depression bubbling in his stomach. And slowly, those feelings turned into boiling anger. His brother, his older brother, the one that he had admired, had listened to, all the time, had abandoned him – for the Potters off all people! He had abandoned him to their family, and forced him to be the heir. Regulus wasn't strong enough for that; he wasn't good enough for that. But, Sirius had still abandoned him, even though Regulus was certain he knew that his younger brother couldn't handle it. All the same, he was gone. And it seemed unlikely he was coming back.

Regulus supposed it was then that things had started to get bad. The newspapers about the Dark Lord, the new lessons, the parties he had to attend. It all culminated into a terrible hatred for Sirius, and for James Potter. So, he decided to show Sirius he didn't need him. The Slytherin Seeker had just graduated from Hogwarts. He remembered that Potter – and his mouth still frowned when he thought of that name – had been a Seeker in his first few years at Hogwarts. Regulus himself had seen him in the Gryffindor ersus Slytherin games. But then he had become a Seeker.

Regulus would be an even better Seeker.

"Alright, listen up punks," Rookwood ordered, his ice blue eyes surveying the team. "We're facing Gryffindor today, as all of you should know. And that means we have to watch out for Potter. The stupid blood traitor is, unfortunately, a damned good Chaser, but never let him know that. He's already got a stuffed up head full of air." Snickers filled the room, along with murmured insults aimed at the name Potter. Regulus grinned viciously. "So, beaters, you know you're job. Chasers, you too. Avery," Rookwood glowered here. "I swear, if you let any of those throws in, I will hex you into oblivion after this is over." Avery looked thoroughly cowed. No one could blame him. "Regulus," The Black heir regarded him with a tilted head, and solemn eyes. Rookwood nodded at him thoughtfully. "Right, let's get going. Those lions won't know what hit them."

And they didn't. The game was over in twenty minutes. Regulus had caught the snitch.

A wave of green roared in approval as Regulus touched down from the air, waving the snitch like a maniac. His team descended upon him, lifting him back into the air, for everyone to see, and so he could see everyone.

But he was only looking for one person.

He found him, knowing him so easily. The identical grey eyes met. Sirius nodded in acknowledgment.

A burst of happiness flooded through Regulus. It didn't leave him, not even when it was three in the morning, and the Slytherin celebration party was ending.

Regulus sighed. School had been easy comparable to when they had grown up... to when he had joined the Dark Lord.

"The hell do you think you're doing, Regulus?" Sirius demanded of him, after he had appeared out of nowhere.

Regulus shook off the shock of seeing his brother after two years. "I'm doing what the Black heir is supposed to do," he replied evenly.

"What? Consort with evil wizards, bent on world domination?" Sirius laughed mirthlessly. "I always knew they had you brainwashed, but I never thought you were crazy."

"I'm not crazy!" Regulus said hotly. "You're the one that's crazy!"

"Me? How am I crazy?"

"You left your family!"

"Right, the family that tortured their own sons for punishment," Sirius deadpanned. "I'm absolutely insane to have left that."

Once again, Regulus didn't know how to defend his family. All he knew was that he loved them. And Sirius had left. "You still abandoned us," he insisted stubbornly.

"That's not the point. The point is, you're going to get yourself killed," said Sirius.

"How do you know that?" Regulus paused, considering Sirius's words for a second. And then, understanding hit him over the head. "You're working with them. Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix," he spat out the word, as if it was the worst thing in the world.

Sirius looked at him irately, not confirming nor denying it. "Again, even if that's true, it's not the point. Voldemort isn't someone who just lets you back out when the going gets tough. Do you even know what you're getting into, Reggie?"

"Yeah. I'm doing good," Regulus shot back.

"Didn't know good meant killing innocent people."

"They're Muggles. Who cares?"

"They're still people, Regulus!" exclaimed Sirius. "You can't do this!"

"Watch me," Regulus said firmly. And this time, it was him who was slamming the door closed.

In retrospect, he had been stupid. Extremely stupid. So stupid, that it had gone beyond stupid.

He knew that now. He should have listened to his brother.

Regulus's mouth twisted into a grimace, as he stood up from his bed. A glint of gold shined in the light for a moment, before it disappeared into his robes. Well, he was going to make things right. "Kreacher," he called.

A crack! signaled the loyal House-Elf's arrival."Ready to serve, Master Regulus," croaked the old Elf.

Regulus smiled fondly at him. The Elf had always been willing to listen to him when he ranted about nothing. "Come, Kreacher. We have to fix this. Take me to where the Dark Lord took you."

The Elf's face immediately shifted into one of worry, and fear. But he complied, grasping Regulus's hand. The young wizard felt a tug of unfamiliar magic, as they popped out of existence, and then back into one.

The new existence was terrible. The two stood in front of a cave wall, overlooking an angry sea...

He was at Hogwarts, under the tree next to the lake, sitting with some second years as they laughed and fooled around. And then –

"Regulus, don't get so close to the lake!"

He heard the voices, but he couldn't do anything now; something had grabbed his ankle, and he was slipping... and slipping... the coldness was taking over him... he couldn't breathe... he had never learned how to swim...

Then, a warmer hand was grasping the front of his robes. Regulus spluttered, cold lake water coming out of his throat. He shook his wet hair out of his eyes, only to find himself looking up at his disgruntled brother.

"Really, do I have to get you out of everything?"

Regulus regarded the wall, calculating. Something was behind there. The... thing... that the Dark Lord had wanted to protect. "How do we enter, Kreacher?" he asked softly.

Kreacher shivered slightly. "Blood," he croaked. "I'll cut my arm and – Master, no!"

Regulus sliced his arm easily with his wand, and spread the blood across the wall, allowing it to slowly open. "It's fine, Kreacher," he assured him. "Come along."

The firm footsteps and the pitter patter of Master and Servant respectively echoed in the small chamber. Regulus felt a sense of foreboding; was this going to be the last thing he ever did?

"The point is, you're going to get yourself killed."

Sirius's words floated into his head.

Did it matter anymore?

He glanced at the lake they had stumbled upon. The only thing he could think of was that Sirius wouldn't be able to pull him out of it.

But Regulus didn't fall in. He and Kreacher managed to pass the lake silently, though Regulus knew that the dead bodies were floating under them, lying in wait. However, in wait for what, he couldn't say.

"What happened next, Kreacher?" Regulus asked.

Kreacher's lip trembled. "He... he made me drink the potion." The Elf pointed at the green basin and cup. "I can do it again... Master, stop!"

Regulus ignored him; he picked up the cup, examining it. "Kreacher, you had to be forced to drink this, correct?" he said.

"... Yes."

"Alright, I order you to give this to me, even if I beg to stop. Don't listen to me, if I do. Got it?"

And because of the magic that Kreacher was under, he nodded reluctantly. He really was a good Elf.

Regulus dipped the cup into the potion, filling it. "Well," he said with a terrible attempt at cheer. "Bottoms up."

He downed the drink in one go. Terrible despair washed over him, but he fought it, dipping the cup in the basin again. And again, he drank it, even though the thought of doing so repulsed him. And a third time, he drank it.

He barely even noticed the clatter as the cup fell.

"That's Regulus Black?"

"Poor thing... not as handsome as his older brother, is he?"

"Not as powerful either from what I heard."

"Sh! We're not supposed to be talking about that, he is the heir after all."

Regulus clenched his eyes closed.

"Master! You said you had to drink!" Kreacher's voice sounded so distant.

"So this is dear Reggie, is it?"

James Potter studied him indifferently, standing at his brother's side.

"Yeah," said Sirius disinterestedly. "Reg, this is James. James, Reg."

"Hi." Regulus nodded uncertainly at James.

"We'll be in my room. Call me for dinner." Sirius shut his door closed.

He seemed to do that a lot.

God, why did he feel so thirsty? "Drink, I need a drink," he muttered. The cup was lifted to his lips and he drank greedily, only to be assaulted by another wave of despair.

He was watching his brother under the Cruciatus Curse, as a lesson, and as a reminder. He bit back a cry; he didn't want to be the one screaming in agony on the floor next.

The mark was being seared onto his arm, and he could feel the pain, renewed once more.

He was being forced to torture someone, just because they had displeased the Dark Lord.

And he was killing innocent people, over and over again, feeling the disgust wash over him. He felt the disappointment from his family, and from his brother, because he had failed them in so many ways.

Despair. Memory. Death.

He wanted to die.

Regulus wanted to die.

"Just one more, Master Regulus," Kreacher's voice soothed.

The slimy potion slid down his throat.

Suddenly, his face was meeting the rock floor. "Master!" Kreacher's voice shrieked.

"The locket," Regulus croaked. "Get the locket."

He heard a jingle, as Kreacher presumably switched the two. But he wasn't even sure if that was what he was hearing. "Water," he mumbled to himself, rolling onto his side. "Water."

"Hold on, Master Regulus," pleaded Kreacher. "Just one moment."

He heard the splashing when the cup dipped into the lake where the dead bodies resided. But he didn't care. The cup met his lips one last time, and he downed the water like a dying man in a desert.

That was when the Inferi rose.

And he couldn't do anything. He was too weak. He was useless.

"Kreacher, run," he rasped. "Destroy the locket."

"Master..."

"Go!"

And he felt the clammy hands of the dead latch onto him. Fear simmered, and he screamed, but the scream was quickly cut off, as the icy water impacted his lungs. He tried to scream again. The hands clawed at his face, and he felt himself suffocating from the weight of them, and the water on his lungs.

Tears pricked at his eyes.

In retrospect, he had been stupid.

To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know it is I who discovered your secret. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.

– R.A.B.

Note: Hrm. Well, then. I was reading Deathly Hallows when the first line came to me. And then the other stuff just kinda flowed with it. I hope you liked it, although I don't think I really did justice to the potion scene that JK had made so heartrending. In any case, I hope you enjoyed, and remember to review!