For Sophie.
Word Count: 2025
"How about a cupcake, Barty?" Ambrosius Flume calls as Barty passes by Honeydukes Bakery. "Nice and nutritious."
Barty offers the old baker a smile as he rolls his eyes. "That isn't how nutrition works," he says with a laugh, adjusting the sleeves of his navy-blue blazer.
"It is today. Live a little! Who knows if we'll make it through another Purge."
Barty shudders at the thought. His father has told him about a world without a yearly Purge, but, at sixteen, Barty is too young to remember. All he knows is he longs for it to be a reality again, and he stands behind his father's efforts within the Ministry to eradicate the morbid holiday.
"Stay safe, Mr. Flume," Barty says, checking his watch.
Three hours until the sirens sound, until the peaceful streets plunge into chaos. He knows he will make it home in time, but that doesn't ease his panic. Barty quickens his pace, swallowing dryly. His father may be a government official, but he doesn't rank high enough to earn immunity during the Purge. The Crouch family might have more security than most, but they still have targets on their backs. With his father's anti-Purge stance, that target only seems to grow by the day.
Another glance at his watch. Only a minute has passed. Barty can't wait until tonight is over, until he can feel safe on the streets again.
It won't be long until he's home, safe and sound and protected by a state-of-the-art security system. They'll hear the screaming in the streets and the sounds of people begging for their lives amidst the cacophony of glass breaking and gunshots, but they will be okay. They will live to see another day.
As he rounds the corner, he doesn't notice the man following behind him. By the time Barty is aware than anything is wrong, strong hands grab him from behind as someone else drops a black cloth bag over his head.
"Let go of me, or else!" he screams, panic causing his heart to race.
"Or else," one of his captors echoes, snorting. "How intimidating."
The second one laughs, and Barty is shocked to realize it's a female. "I've faced pumpkins scarier than you," she says, shoving him forward.
They can't do this! Not yet. Not before the Purge officially begins.
Something tells him that he doesn't have a choice but to accept it. Grateful his captors can't see him behind the mask, he lets the tears fall.
…
Regulus groans as he picks up the sleek, silver dagger. "It isn't fair," he says, practicing stabbing the mannequin between its ribs. "I don't want to do this."
His older brother winces as he passes the weaponry table. Sirius appears to be more terrified than Regulus is about joining their parents during the Blacks' annual Purge celebration. "We don't live in a world that's fair." He picks up an ax, shuddering before putting it back. "We live in this one."
"I don't want to live in this one."
But Regulus knows he doesn't have a choice. The Purge has been in place since before he was born, and he doubts anything will change that. He supposes he should be thankful he's a Black. He thinks of all those people out there, stuck on the streets, and the predators who will hunt them like game tonight.
At least he doesn't have to live with that fear. Still, what he will have to do makes his stomach tie itself into knots.
"It's going to be okay, Reg," Sirius says, abandoning the table and crossing the room to get closer to him. He rests his hands gently on Regulus' shoulder. "It's just one night, right? It'll be over before you know it."
It should be reassuring, but it really isn't. Soon, their childhood home will become a place of terror and fear.
"Do you think they'll ever stop the Purge?" Regulus asks quietly.
He never knows when someone might be listening in. Their parents have eyes and ears all over Grimmauld Place. Even the smallest hint of rebellion will be met with severity.
Sirius swallows dryly, picking at the threads of his maroon jumper. "Let's just get through tonight, okay?" He ruffles Regulus' hair affectionately. "It will all be over soon."
But not soon enough. Regulus is all too aware of how long these parties last. Maybe being forced into the bloodshed and horror will make things go faster. He hopes so; at least there might be some sembla ot a silver lining.
"Aren't you two ready yet?" their mother asks, hurrying into the study and fixing them with a stern glare.
Sirius pulls away from Regulus quickly. Affection–even toward a close family member–is considered weakness, and Blacks are anything but weak. "Nearly, Mother," he says.
"Hurry up," she snaps. "Tonight is an important night."
Regulus doesn't like the way she looks at them. There's something in her storm-grey eyes that rubs him the wrong way, but he can't quite figure out what it is. Before he can even begin to piece things together in his mind, his mother turns and walks away. Regulus shakes his head. He wonders if it would kill her to actually stop and spend time with her sons, especially on a night like tonight.
"At least we have each other, Reg," Sirius says, nudging the younger boy with his shoulder.
Regulus smiles. It will have to be enough.
…
The black hood is removed suddenly from his face, and he can see again.
"Crouch?"
Barty vaguely recognizes the boy with long, white-blond hair. He's certain he's seen him before, but he can't quite place him. School, maybe? One of his father's work parties? He isn't sure. All he knows is the boy recognizes him, and he seems to be in the same hopeless situation as Barty.
"If I knew I would end up right here with you, I would have brought the bat," the boy says with a sneer.
"Do I actually know you?" Barty asks.
"Lucius Malfoy." He steps closer, and Barty realizes he isn't trapped at all. Unlike the other prisoners–at least a dozen men and women of all ages–he is free to walk around as he pleases. "There were rumors you would be the guest of honor, but I thought they were just that. Rumors."
Guest of honor. Barty doesn't know what that means exactly, and he isn't sure that he wants to find out. Still, he gets the feeling he doesn't have much of a choice.
"I just want to go home," Barty says, leaning his head back against the cold brick wall behind him. "Please… I can give you money."
The Malfoys don't need money, of course, but Barty knows the family is renowned for their corruption. Lucius only laughs. "It isn't about money. They have more than enough," he says, prodding a finger into Barty's chest. "It's about sending a message."
"W-what message?" Barty asks.
Lucius' thin lips pull into a smirk. "The Purge is here to stay."
A young woman with dark, wild curls appears at the doorway. Her eyes sweep over the small crowd, and she grins. "It's time."
"Just a moment, Bella," Lucius calls before leaning in, dangerously close to Barty. "They're promising something special to whoever kills you tonight. I plan on it being me."
…
Regulus doesn't like the party, and the worst of it hasn't even begun. Some of the guests wear masks, and he wonders if it's so they can hide their shame, or because they like the thrill of killing with anonymity.
He moves closer to his brother as a woman in a short black dress and a creepy doll mask passes a little too close. His stomach sours, and he thinks he might throw up.
"It's okay," Sirius murmurs. "Stay close to me, Reg. I'll keep you safe."
"Have you ever killed anyone?" Regulus whispers.
Sirius has been to two of their parents' Purge parties. He never talks about what he's seen or done while there. Now, he just looks straight ahead without answering as their father takes the stage.
"So nice of you all to join us," their father says, puffing on a cigar as he looks out at the crowd. "I've never been one for extravagant speeches, so, I will just save this: the Purge will live on!"
"The Purge will live on!" the crowd echoes, and Regulus mouths the words in case anyone is watching.
He wants nothing more than to head up to his room, put his headphones in, and let the music drown everything out. Regulus takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the fact that he can't stop trembling.
"Breathe," Sirius mutters as the Emergency Broadcast System's warning sounds through the room.
"This is not a test. This is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the annual Purge."
"I'm going to puke," Regulus grumbles.
"Don't you dare," his brother says
"Weapons of class four and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge."
His mother starts toward the front of the room. There's bliss in her smile as everyone's eyes fall upon her. Regulus watches as she whispers something to Uncle Cygnus who laughs.
"Commencing at the siren, any and all crime will be legal for twelve continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable…"
He doesn't like the way Uncle Cygnus looks at him and Sirius, but he doesn't get a chance to comment. As the annual announcement comes to a close and the siren blares, Bellatrix and Lucius lead this year's prey through the crowd. Most are older, willing participants eager to trade their lives for enough money to provide for their families. The others… Even though crime is only legal for the next twelve hours, his family has always found a way to be above the law and untouched by such rules.
Regulus nudges Sirius sharply, nodding toward the boy next to Lucius. "Isn't that Crouch's son?"
He's only seen Barty Crouch Jr on television, in the background while his father gives a passionate plea for the end of the Purge. Though his fair hair is disheveled and his freckles have been replaced by splatters of blood, there's no doubt that it's him.
"Mother and Father have lost their damn minds," Sirius says, shaking his head. "What are they playing at?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
Their mother clears her throat, offering the crowd a too-bright smile. "I know you're all eager to get into the swing of things," she says, and there's a murmur of agreement from the room, "but there's one quick thing I must do before you can begin the hunt. Kreacher?"
The family's most faithful servant appears behind Sirius and Regulus, gripping them firmly by the arms. When the boys struggle, their father steps in, offering Kreacher a hand. The two men force them forward.
"What the hell are you doing?" Sirius demands, shoving against the elderly servant. "Unhand me!"
"What's happening?" Regulus asks, his heartbeat racing.
When they're lead to the front, they're still kept in an inescapable grip. Their mother passes in front of them, offering them a look of pure disgust before turning her attention back to the crowd.
"The Purge will live on," she says. "But there are those who would like to see its downfall. I'm ashamed to say that two such people live in my own home."
Beside him, Sirius blanches. Regulus swallows dryly. How could she know about his doubts? He's been so careful!
"And so, this Purge is a special one. We have the opportunity to purge the world of people who would oppose this sacred tradition. Not only will my own sons be tributes this year, but we have Crouch's boy as well."
"Fuck," Sirius mutters under his breath.
Now there's denying it. Regulus leans forward as best he can, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He's going to die; there's no way around that.
"Guests, grab your weapons as we take the others to the course," their mother says.
Regulus feels numb as he's lead away. He's so fucked.