Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 7, Round 4
Chaser 1: "I don't know how I got stuck under there. It was just a … uh, hilarious chain of events." Impractical Jokers
optional prompts:
[song] Run boy Run - Woodkid
[action] hide
[word] pendant
"Do it!" he rasped, leaning heavily on the rocks and watching the other one, standing a few feet away. His once full, deep voice was hoarse and cracking within those two words. He was sure that at some point he had screamed—the work of the potion. Regulus tried to push everything out of his head, just for a minute, wishing to say goodbye to his loyal elf. Despite the weakness spreading through his body, the young wizard tried to smile as he looked at the other living creature in this. Tears were filling his companion's big eyes as he turned around reluctantly to obey the command.
The moment his bony hand picked up the pendant on the thin silver chain, Kreacher felt the magic inside the thing revolt. A shock ran from his hand to his shoulder and hit his very being with such a force that the little house-elf staggered back. Kreacher's hand cramped around the object, refusing to let it go. As soon as he recovered, Kreacher let the duplicate fall into the basin and turned around.
Regulus was still in the same spot he had been before, but instead of standing, he lay slumped against one of the higher rocks near the shore. He had one hand cupped to scoop up some water, his throat dry with thirst. Regulus' body was shaking violently as he reached out to break the water surface. Kreacher clutched the locket in his fist and started climbing over the rocks towards his master. The higher ones made it difficult for him to get over since he had to pull himself up. Every few feet Kreacher threw a worried look towards his young master and did his best to get over to the wizard.
Before the house-elf could reach Regulus, though, a very pale, very much moving hand stretched out of the water and grabbed the young wizard at the ankle. The next moment, a creature as pale as the hand emerged from the black water and began pulling him to the water. Regulus' eyes widened in fear; his weak hands tired to hold onto the stone underneath him but his fingers slipped. More hands appeared, attached to them were bodies of creatures, thin as skeletons, pale and with empty all dragged the struggling man further towards the black, deep water. Kreacher let out a scared yelp and struggled further down to the shore. His master's voice made him stop, his head snapping up to look at his master.
"Go home, Kreacher! Don't tell them what I've done!" Regulus Black yelled as loud as he could. His voice was raspy but Kreacher understood him anyway. Regulus felt the life flee from his body as one of the creatures holding him around the neck tightened its grip, and he felt weaker with the second. The sight of his loyal house-elf, rooted on the spot, the hateful pendant dangling from his bony fingers made his heart heavy and light at the same time—heavy because of the big tears rolling down Kreacher's face; lighter at the thought of a hopefully weakened Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord and his followers. Once Regulus had been one of them until the truth about the torture and the violence had hit him. The truth about what those monsters did.; about the things he had to do on the Dark Lord's orders. Their world hadn't been made for him. It hadn't been the world of honor and success they had promised, but one of cruelty, pain, and guilt. That would never be his world, never.
When Regulus had realized that, he had wanted to run. Run away from his sins, from his loyal Death Eater family. He really had wanted to, but he couldn't. He had been a coward. Unlike his older brother, he hadn't dared to leave, somehow more scared of his own family than even the Dark Lord. He had returned to a world where he didn't fit in. Then, the Dark Lord had requested for Kreacher to follow him. Nobody knew what they had been doing that night, but the little elf had returned shaken and full of fear.
Regulus had coaxed the truth out of his favorite elf, and with that, his plan had popped into existence. He decided to fight a silent fight. And it looked like he had succeeded in destroying the Dark Lord's plans. Even house-elves would reveal the entrusted secrets if faced with the right opportunity and person, and the Dark Lord wasn't even Kreacher's master. And so, when asked by a worried Regulus, Kreacher had spilled the dark secret the Dark Lord hid in this cave.
What exactly it was that Regulus had managed to steal with the help of his little companion, he didn't know. The only thing he knew was that it had to be important if the Dark Lord hid it here, at the end of the world. Very important, indeed, if a cave and a lake full of scary creatures weren't enough, and it needed a terrible potion to shield the pendant from whoever tried to steal it.
Another slippery hand closed around Regulus thigh; blind with fear, Regulus reached out again and struggled to find something to hold on to, even though the assault of memories that was filling his mind. He managed to hold on to a pointy rock and delay the inevitable journey to the depths of the black lake a little more.
He forced his eyes to focus on the elf and once again raised his cracking voice: "Destroy the locket! Go, Kreacher!" The little elf was clearly torn between the need to obey Regulus' command and his own desire to help his master. Regulus caught Kreacher's gaze and shook his head ever so slightly. The tears began to fall from the house-elf's eyes but he refrained from running to his young master.
Then the strength left Regulus' limbs, and the horrible creatures pulled him fully into the water. Instead of fighting, Regulus merely closed his eyes and took a deep breath, giving in to all that he was helpless against; the water the creatures were pulling him into, and the haunting memories of his too-short life which flickered through his confused mind. He held the air inside his lungs as he felt the cold water close in over his head, filling his ears. He felt the bony, unyielding hands of the beasts on his skin and shuddered at their touch and the coldness of the dark liquid.
The creatures dragged him further down and Regulus lost every orientation. He felt the poison inside his body work its way through him. Soon his whole body was burning. Whatever he had drunk there, it wasn't a nice potion, and with the hallucinations filling his head, Regulus wasn't sure what was drowning faster—his body or his mind.
When Regulus registered his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, the young wizard was barely conscious and very delusional. There was no light, and Regulus wasn't sure the shapes he saw around him were real or just the work of his mind. Somewhere to his left, he heard Sirius scream. It was worse than darkness, and Regulus tried to push it out of his mind. His mind cleared up, and for one moment, there was nothing welcoming him to his end, no sun guiding him. Just black water in every pore of his skin.
Regulus' thoughts wandered to his brother and lingered on the memory of Sirius' laughter sounding through his head, and he focused on that, trying to suppress the deafening screams of his brother and shouts of his mother that were filling up his mind again. He saw himself as a little boy, watching from the landing as his parents yelled at Sirius, and he suddenly realized that he would never be a man. Regulus Black would die the death of an unknown hero, as the boy who ran.
Finally, his body couldn't resist the urge to draw oxygen. Regulus' lungs filled with water—black, cold water—and the very moment the memory of his brother slipped away from him, his heartbeat stopped.
Silence enveloped the deep, black lake. Nothing gave away that in its depths a young wizard had just given his life for a future he would never know.
Many feet above the mixed corpses, a little house-elf was standing, staring at the still surface of the lake, the locket in his hand and the last words of his master echoing through his mind. Kreacher was frozen. He concentrated on the spot where his favorite Black had disappeared. He begged whoever might listen to bring Master Regulus back up. To bring them home, to turn back the clock.
But not his silent weeping, begging, nor his tears made the young wizard reappear. After a long time, Kreacher's thoughts came back to the present. He had to go home. Hanging the locket around his neck, Kreacher raised his head and concentrated on his magic. Then he disapparated. At least he tried to. As soon as he called upon his magic, the pendant sitting on his thin chest began to burn. It lashed out with some awful dark magic, suffocating the little elf. Kreacher gasped at the sudden tightness of his chest; his hands flew to his throat where the silver chain had wrapped itself around his windpipe.
His attempts to throw the locket off himself were useless. His fingers clawed at the chain but he couldn't lift it from his neck. The dark magic crept into his body and enclosed his soul. But the little house-elf wouldn't let himself fail. He wouldn't give up and disobey his young master's last command.
With all the strength he could muster, Kreacher sent his own magic against the lurking darkness in the pendant. The light force pushed the dark strands of magic out of Kreacher's chest, back into the pendant where they belonged. It was a terribly slow process, and Kreacher found himself weaker by the minute. The suffocating feeling lessened more and more; the dark magic was forced back further and ever so slowly; the tightness around Kreacher's chest disappeared.
The exceptionally strong elfish magic was strong enough at last. Kreacher pushed the dark magic back into the pendant and the chain loosened around his throat. The house-elf felt light-headed as the chain finally stopped squeezing his throat.
He gulped in huge breaths, filling his lungs with the much-needed oxygen. The locket hung from Kreacher's neck as nothing had happened. He felt a faint pulsing coming from the pendant, but he couldn't tell if it was just the echo of the burning on his chest or the magic still acting up in the object.
When Kreacher found the courage to open his eyes, his gaze immediately fell onto the black water. He took a deep breath. Master Regulus was gone forever. With the knowledge of fulfilling the last command his favorite master had given him, Kreacher apparated to the rocks outside the cave and then to Grimmauld place.
During the long-distance apparition, Kreacher felt the magic in the pendant acting up again. The journey that was meant to take seconds, stretched. How long, the elf couldn't tell. When his cold feet hit solid ground again, Kreacher found himself at Grimmauld place, yes, but not in the slightest where he had intended to land. He had aimed for the cupboard under the sink. Instead, he was standing in the middle of the upstairs bathroom.
Hastily, Kreacher walked to the door to escape to the safe cupboard he called his bed. Before he could reach for the doorknob, though, he froze. His gaze was drawn to the small shelf next to the sink. There, stuffed carelessly into the shelf, was Regulus' Hogwarts robe. the Slytherin crest shining proudly on the dark fabric.
Kreacher felt his throat constrict. The sudden confrontation with one of his young master's belongings made his heartache. Tears were trickling down his cheeks, his big eyes fixed on the robe. Kreacher jumped as he heard the doorknob turn.
He wasn't supposed to be here, he saw the door open and he panicked. Fear filled the little elf, his grief-filled mind didn't allow any reasonable thinking. Instead of simply disapparating, Kreacher dove behind the towels rack, grabbing Regulus' robe on the way. He hid behind the thick towels and pressed the soft Hogwarts robe against his bony chest.
The bathroom door opened fully the moment the elf was hidden. Orion Black stepped in and went to the toilet. He pushed up the lid and, with a grunt, relieved himself. Then he started the shower and less than a minute after Kreacher could hear water running and soon after Orion's voice singing softly: "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts…" Kreacher was sure there must be a silencing charm on the door—the Master would never sing like this in front of someone else.
The pendant was still pulsing but Kreacher merely concentrated on the smell of Regulus' robe in his arms. There was the well-known smell of the Black household mixed with the odor of broom polish. Kreacher lost himself in the memories of his favorite master, mourning the loss. How long he sat there on the ground, the little elf couldn't tell. But after some time, Orion finished his shower and pulled one of the towels from the rack that Kreacher was hiding behind. The wizard was still singing quietly to himself.
The little house-elf prayed he wouldn't be spotted. How should he explain why he was sitting behind a towel rack, clutching a school robe to his chest?
Orion finished drying himself off and threw the towel at the rack with so much force that the insecurely standing frame tilted and fell to the ground where the bar hit Kreacher on the head.
The little elf had been sitting with his face buried in the robe and hadn't seen the rack falling.
When the bar struck him, he let out a startled yelp. That got Orion's attention, and before Kreacher could understand what had happened, he was looking at a pretty angry Master Black.
"What are you doing there, elf?" Orion hissed down to the elf under the towel rack.
Kreacher averted his eyes and pushed Regulus' robe inconspicuously under some of the towels before answering.
"I don't know how I got stuck under here, Master Black, Sir." He squeaked. Then he raised his eyes and said: "It was just a … uh, hilarious chain of events...", even as his mind focused on the fact that there was nothing hilarious about Master Regulus' death.
Orion Black's eyes almost popped out of his head. How dare the elf talk to him in such a cheeky manner? But more importantly, why had he spent his well-earned shower with the disgusting elf in the corner doing Merlin-knows-what? The little shit had even heard him sing! He wanted to punish the elf, but standing there in his boxer shorts, he couldn't think properly.
Orion brought up his dignity, all of it he could find in his undignified state, and told the elf:
"Get lost, you beast!" He pointed at the door dramatically and watched the little creature run for the exit.
"And take those towels with you!" He hollered after the elf. With a soft pop the towels disappeared, and the rack righted itself again.
Kreacher fled the bathroom and hurried down the stairs. He banished the dirty towels into the laundry and popped to his cupboard, arms firmly in place around the Slytherin robe.
Sighing in relief, Kreacher added the robe to his small nest and laid down. Perhaps if he was quick enough he could steal some more of master Regulus' belongings as a keepsake within the next few days?
Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow, he would fulfill his Master's last command and destroy the pendant. Suddenly, a low chuckle welled up in Kreacher's chest as he thought about the hilarious sight of Master Orion in boxers. Happy to have saved the robe of his young master, Kreacher fell asleep, curled around the locket and the memory of his young master Regulus.