August 28, 1977
Huge waves crash against the side of a cliff on the outermost tip of nowhere. The sheer rock face has been eaten away at for centuries by the powerful Atlantic, which looks like a never ending abyss of darkness from the top of the cliff. The night is dark, It's overcast, so the stars that usually sprinkle the sky are gone. Only the eerie glow of the full moon can be deciphered through the thick cloud cover. It starts to drizzle.
The loud crack of a wizard and an elf apparating is lost between the punishing waves doing their best to sweep anyone foolhardy enough to be out on the cliff into the water and into the darkness. The two creatures are nestled in an alcove, providing them with shelter from the elements, but not much. They make haste.
The wizard speaks. "This is the place, Kreacher?"
The elf responds, in a croaky voice. "Yes Master Regulus." the statement lacks the usual vigor.
"Is there an opening of some kind? A spell that must be said?"
"The Dark Lord… put blood… on the wall." Kreacher paled at his own admission, but stood steadfast.
"I see."
The wizard pulled from his cloak, which the wind was doing it's best to claim from off his body, a slender piece of wood, with a willowy tip and a decorative hilt. It was a wand, made with cedar wood and dragon heart string. 11 inches long exactly. He muttered something under his breath, Kreacher wouldn't have heard it at all if it weren't for his species' enormous ears. The last two inches of the wand began to glow in a soft, silvery color. Regulus pushed back his sleeve, revealing a brand of a skull, with a snake coming out of its mouth and twisting around the image, on his left forearm. If you were to stare at it long enough, you would swear the snake was writhing. Without warning, He plunged the tip of his wand into the brand, dragging it through its whole length.
"Master Regulus!" Kreacher frantically attempted to stop Regulus, but was swatted away.
"I am responsible for you being here. If there are any tolls to pay, I will be the one to pay them." Regulus spoke as he smeared blood from his wound on the rock wall. The stain couldn't be distinguished from the surrounding algae in the dark, and the sharp, coppery smell was whipped away by the howling wind.
"But Master-"
The ledge the two were crowded on began to quiver as a portion of the cliff face slid away, revealing a damp, pitch black passageway. Regulus's lips pressed into an even thinner line.
"Towards unknown it is. Lumos." His wand, with flecks of blood still coating it, began to glow again, this time acting as a flashlight instead of a dagger. He took a step forward, then stopped.
"Kreacher... if you want, you could stay behind. You've done more than enough, bringing me here. I know what to do from this point on."
For less than a second, Kreacher hesitated. He would do almost anything if it meant he never had to return to this place. Almost anything, however, did not include abandoning his master, his friend.
"No Master! You mustn't go alone! Kreacher will not allow it! Kreacher would never abandon Master!"
Regulus looked at him for a moment, with an unidentifiable look on his face. Kreacher had been his companion since before he could remember, especially after Sirius had left for Hogwarts. He knew the rest of his family treated the elf poorly, and that his basic politeness was the most likely reason for this bout of loyalty. Regulus himself had volunteered Kreacher to be the guinea pig for the Dark Lord's defenses in the very cave they were about to enter, and he still wanted to accompany him into the darkness. It felt like the worst betrayal, to drag his oldest friend back into the nightmare he'd only just escaped before, but in all honesty, Regulus was afraid.
Kreacher had told him exactly what.. things they would encounter, exactly what lengths he would have to go to complete his mission. The only thing he could feel was pure terror. There was no room in his mind for bravery, common sense, loyalty, or guilt. He would be ashamed if he had the capacity to feel it. The only reason he'd thrown away everything he'd worked for his entire life to fulfill this one task, was because he was about as disgusted as he was afraid. He was disgusted with the Dark Lord and his crusade, he was disgusted with The Death Eaters, the blind followers of Voldemort, cold blooded killers. He was disgusted with his family, How they, too, were Death Eaters, how they had chased away his brother, who refused to follow their bigoted ways like a sheep. Most of all, he was disgusted with himself, for being a Death Eater, for being a Black, for standing by as innocent people were killed to appease a madman. The reason he was standing on a cliff, in the middle of nowhere, having told no one where he was going except the present company, was because he would rather die than spend another second as himself.
This was his only chance. He would change, become a better person, or he would die trying.
That's not all, his traitorous mind whispered. You're doing this out of hope, too. Hope that Sirius will see you as his brother again.
None of that matters now. All that matters is that Regulus could not turn back. He knew too much to sit idly by as hundreds more were slaughtered. He would die if he didn't do it. He wasn't brave enough to do it alone, though. He sighed.
"Alright, Kreacher. But, I order you to leave if your life is in danger."
"Master-" Kreacher was cut off by a sharp look from Regulus. He nodded.
Regulus turned on his heel, his cloak billowing one last time before he stalked down the passageway, wandlight illuminating about three feet ahead of him.
The duo walked through the cramped, dank tunnel for about three more minutes before the path rapidly expanded into the largest cavern either had ever laid eyes on. The path they had taken ended on another ledge, overlooking a lake with water so black it seemed to absorb light. If the Ocean had seemed like an abyss, this was the void. A poison green mist distorted what would be the horizon, but from what Regulus could see, the lake extended well past that. The shore, as well as the rocks they had to climb down to get there, were jagged, ancient things. Like teeth of an ancient creature, waiting to swallow its prey.
"Climb onto my shoulders, Kreacher. We'll make better time that way."
Regulus kneeled while Kreacher scrambled to his assigned perch. His legs were bony, and the grip around his neck was a tad too tight to be comfortable. It made for a good distraction. Together, they slowly but surely descended to the water's edge. Regulus paused several times as tears accumulated in his robes and skin. He lamented on his ruined clothing for a moment, he liked to appear presentable, but the thought was dismissed almost as soon as it appeared. It was very unlikely anyone would be seeing him again, after all.
Inside the cavern, there was no wind to blow away the scent of blood.
When they found a relatively flat portion of shore, Kreacher hoped to the ground and began waving his hands just over the space where solid met liquid.
"The Dark Lord is having an invisible boat, Master. Kreacher remembers it being here somewhere."
Regulus nodded at Kreacher, and turned to look at the lake once more while the elf continued his search. Shrouded in mist, what looked to be kilometers away, was a rocky outcropping from which the green glow illuminating the cavern originated. He assumed that must be the island Kreacher had told him of. Where the Dark Lord's Horcrux was hidden. The knot that had settled in Regulus's stomach ever since he got the dark mark last month tightened even further at this. He didn't know if what he was feeling was pride or dread, now that the finish line was in sight.
Feeling more nervous than anything else, he turned his eyes down towards the water, if it was water at all. Regulus could only tell it was moving because it lapped at the rocky shore where he stood. It did not refract any of the sickly green light coming from the island. He couldn't make out any ripples or waves, just a sheet of longer he looked, the worse he felt, but the harder it was to look away. He knew the aura of black magic like he knew the back of his hand, his family lived and breathed the stuff, but the amount this place gave off was suffocating. Based on that alone, If he didn't already know what was hidden underneath the darkness, he probably could have guessed.
Inferi, a legion of the undead.
"Master Regulus! You mustn't touch the water!"
Regulus hadn't known he was leaning forward until Kreacher called out his warning. Kreacher had one knobby fist wrapped tightly around nothing. He guessed that was the tether keeping the boat ashore.
"If Master touches the water, they will wake up!" Kreacher sounded panicked. Regulus could see the tension in his narrow shoulders. He was clearly more stressed than he'd ever been before. The statement sobered Regulus up more than anything else. He jerked away from the shore, and made his way towards the elf.
"The boat is here, Master. Kreacher will get in first to show Master where it is."
"Careful."
Kreacher hummed affirmative, and clamored into the small wooden craft with the agility of a newborn calf. He did, however, avoid the water as much as possible, settling in the middle of the boat when he could. Regulus climbed in as well, copying Kreacher's aversion to the black liquid. Once they were both settled, Kreacher grabbed an oar.
"Wait!" Regulus's hand shot out and he gripped Kreacher's wrist. "I thought you couldn't disturb the water."
"Kreacher is saying that you cannot touch the water with your handses or feets, Master Regulus. The Dark Lord had Kreacher row across the lake."
He frowned, but nodded at Kreacher to continue.
As Kreacher rowed, Regulus continued to scan the surface of the lake. Sitting in an invisible boat was gut wrenching, he avoided looking straight down lest he suffer from vertigo. As his gaze wandered, his eyes sharpened onto an interruption in the unending void. All he made out was a pale lump at this distance. Just then, a small thud reverberated throughout the tiny boat. Regulus looked down before he could stop himself.
Regret has never come so fast.
Staring back at him from underneath the boat where milky white eyes in sunken sockets, the most striking feature on the sallow face of an Inferius.
Regulus gagged.
"Master! Is you alright?"
He clenched his fists until his knuckles were white and shut his eyes as tightly as he could, entertaining the childish need to pretend he was anywhere else at the moment, as he spoke through gritted teeth.
"Just. Keep. Rowing"
Merlin, what he wouldn't give to be absolutely anywhere else. Why did he ever think this was a good idea? He was going to die here, dragged to his watery grave by the undead. He was only sixteen! What did he think was going to happen? That he would walk out of this cave a hero? That Sirius would greet him with an arm around his shoulders and a billion dollar smile? He'd be lucky if Sirius even believed Horcruxes were real- No, he'd be lucky if he survived at all. Even if he escaped this hellish place, he was still a Death Eater, still a Black, and still unworthy. No, if he really wanted to fix what he's done, he'll have to do Dark Lord must be defeated.
Regulus allowed himself a small, self satisfied smirk as he pictured Voldemort reading the note folded inside the decoy locket around his neck. He might have to live through this, if only to see the look on his face when he discovers he has one less part of his soul than he believed.
The boat drifted up to the edge of the island in the middle of the lake. Kreacher grabbed hold of the invisible tether, hopped on shore, and pulled the boat close enough to solid ground that Regulus could disembark without touching the water. They made the short jaunt to the small pillar in the center of the Island. From the top, Regulus could see above the swirling mist. The view, he thought, must be similar to looking down on clouds from the peak of a mountain. The thought gave him a sense of importance, but it amplified just how lonely he felt. He was going to die, and the only person who would know what he'd done was Kreacher.
Atop this pillar was a basin full to the brim of a potion, the same shade of green that adorned the Slytherin house. The potion seemed to be the source of the light in the cave. Regulus peered into the bowl and saw his reflection staring back at him. His hair was short, with bangs just long enough to fall into his eyes. It had come down to his shoulders once, but as he grew, he looked more and more like Sirius, until he couldn't see a mirror without also feeling a pang of guilt and loss. One day, he couldn't handle it any longer, and he chopped it all off with a pair of muggle scissors. His mother was furious when she found him, crying on the floor of his bathroom surrounded by his hair. She had tidied his hair up, but not before a few good hexes and some choice words about upholding the reputation of the Ancient and most Noble House of Black. Regulus was surprised at how haggard he looked. There were bags under his eyes, his hair was matted with sea spray and nervous sweat, and he was biting his bottom lip.
If only his family could see him now. The ultimate disappointment, more so than Sirius ever was. With a deep breath, he turned to Kreacher
"This is the potion the Dark Lord had you drink?"
"Yes Master Regulus."
"And the locket was at the bottom?"
The elf was shaking "Yes Master."
Regulus's brows furrowed as he remembered finding Kreacher soaking wet and in hysterics after he returned from the Dark Lord's quest. After practically forcing a calming drought down his throat, Kreacher had described how the potion had burned, as if his whole body was on fire, and how thirsty it made him. He described being shown his worst memories, and those memories twisting into even more horrible nightmares. Finally, he described barely even being in control of his body as he moved towards the lake to drink, and how the cold, dead hands of the Inferi had lurched up and pulled him to what would have been his death the instant he had disturbed the lake.
In a last ditch attempt, he pulled out his wand and said "Accio locket."
Nothing happened, so he summoned a cup, dipping it into the potion to fill it.
"Hold my wand, Kreacher"
Kreacher took the wand, which was still acting as a light from Regulus's spell earlier, though he looked confused.
"Does master wish for Kreacher to drink the potion?"
Regulus stalled. "Silly elf, I wouldn't have you do that again. As I said earlier, any tolls are mine to pay."
"Surely Master Regulus can't mean to drink-"
"I do. Kreacher, You must make sure I drink all of it, no matter what I may say, don't let me stop until you have the Locket. When you can, switch it out with this."
He pulled from around his neck a silver locket. It was not a piece of jewelry one expected to see on a Black. It looked cheap, there wasn't a single decorative engraving or jewel on the thing, and it was starting to discolor from where it had been grabbed over and over. He had found it in muggle London one day, discarded on the pavement. Laying eyes on it was what inspired this half-brained exchange plan in the first place. Ever since he had picked it up, he had worn it under his robes as a reminder of what he must do. Handing it over to Kreacher felt like lifting a weight off his chest.
"Leave once you've done that. Without me if necessary."
Kreacher let out a small whine of distress. He would have drank thousands of basins of the potion if it meant sparing his friend, but there was nothing he could do when faced with a direct order.
Regulus brought the cup full of liquid to his lips
"Bottoms up."
He couldn't have imagined how badly the potion would burn. His vision went white as every nerve ending in his body ignited. He didn't know if he screamed, he didn't know if he even finished what was in the cup. When he came back to his senses, he was surprised he was still standing, instead of in a pile of ashes on the ground. He felt like he hadn't drank anything in days. Kreacher was trying to support him, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes.
"Master must not drink the potion." He said weakly
Regulus couldn't speak just yet, so he shook his head and filled the cup once more. To convince himself to drink, he counted down.
Three
Two
One
He was ablaze again, but it faded faster. Once the feeling was gone, he realized he was no longer in the cave, but sitting on the sorting stool on his first day at Hogwarts.
The hat was in the hands of Professor McGonagall, who promptly plopped it on his head and over his eyes.
"Hmm. Another Black. There's cunning, and intelligence. Not much ambition, but you can't always have everything. Another Slytherin."
"Wait!" He mentally screamed at the hat. "I don't want to be in Slytherin, not again."
"Really? But you're doing so well there. You're building connections. You're making your family proud"
"No, no I'm not. Everything went wrong because I was in Slytherin. They're all horrible, soon to be murderers!"
"They are? Or you are? You have the mark, do you not? You're just as much a part of it as any of them. It's in your blood, after all."
His left arm burned.
"NO! I'm not like them. I'm not. I'm- I'm different! I don't want to kill anyone!"
"But you have. How many people have died as you stood by and watched. How many people could you have saved if you had been braver."
Regulus was silent
"There's a reason you can't be in Gryffindor. You're a coward. You're nothing like your brother, He's right to be ashamed of you."
This isn't right. This isn't how it happened.
"You're better off away from him. You can't poison him like the rest of your family."
No
"Not if you're dead."
"SLYTHERIN!" The shout echoed through the hall. The hat was lifted in time for Regulus to see the hopeful look fade off Sirius's face, being replaced by a scowl, aimed at him.
He opened his eyes to Kreacher hesitantly handing him the cup, which the elf had filled with more potion.
He drank.
Sirius's screams were still ringing through his mind as he walked up to the door of his brother's room. It was ajar, light was spilling into the hallway. A few thuds sounded periodically, along with an occasional whispered curse.
He knocked softly on the door frame and stood in the doorway. His brother turned to glare at him. His room was a mess, it looked like a small tornado had passed through. His school trunk was open on his bed, and he had just finished packing it to the brim.
"What do you want, Reg?" Sirius grunted, turning back to his trunk to throw a few more things in and slamming it shut.
"Where are you going?"
"To James' place."
Regulus raised his eyebrows in suspicion. "Potter? Did Mother say-"
"Of course she fucking didn't, Reg. I didn't ask." his brother growled.
Silence.
"You're…" Regulus paused
"I'm what?"
"You're really leaving."
Sirius huffed impatiently "That's what I said. I'm going to James'."
"That's not what I mean. You're not coming back."
Sirius was silent.
"I… I can't stay here, little Reggie. You know that. They… They'll kill me one of these days. I can't take it anymore. I can't listen to them tell me how much of a failure I am, how 'Impure' all my friends are. I can't listen to them spewing their hate and supporting that- that monster. This place is hell." Sirius' voice broke several times, he looked to be on the verge of tears. He thought his brother wouldn't cry, but he wasn't so sure anymore.
"You can't" Regulus felt himself say.
"Why not?" Sirius snapped, with a touch of malice in his voice.
Too much malice.
"Don't leave me alone."
"Don't leave you?" Sirius was incredulous. "Like you left me for them? For Slytherin!?"
No
"You know," Sirius laughed to himself. "You're Just like them. You don't say anything, but I know you agree. You think, just because of your last name, because of blood, that you're better than everyone else."
That's not true, Merlin, that's so not true.
"You know what? You're trying- no, you are dragging me down. Well, Guess what? I know Muggleborns worth twelve of you, Regulus." Sirius hissed his brothers name.
"I bet you'll become one of those Death Eaters, one of those killers."
Please no.
"I'm going to join the Order."
No.
"If you do become a Death Eater..."
Please!
"I hope I'm the one who gets to kill you."
Sirius shoved past him.
Regulus was on his knees now. He was so thirsty. He needed some water, Just a little, anything to stop the thirst.
Kreacher had the cup in his hands. He was sobbing.
"Last cup, Master Regulus. Yous is very brave."
He almost scoffed. Brave? Him? What a laugh. He was thirsty, though, so he took the offered cup with eagerness.
And Drank.
His arm burned
It burned
He couldn't see, couldn't hear, could barely even think.
His only thought was: Don't scream, or they'll know you're weak.
He couldn't scream. If he did, he may as well disown himself. To disgrace himself like that in front of the present company would be to sign his death certificate. He just had to bear it, for a few more seconds
It hurt.
And then it didn't.
His vision cleared, and he looked down at his arm, gauging the damage. A hideous image met his eyes. Burnt and crusted into his left forearm was the dark mark. A skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Merlin, for such a feared group of people, they were children when it came to symbolism. Snakes? Really? The Dark Lord himself owned a large python, a glorified mascot. This was ridiculous. What did his parents see in this lunatic? How far has the House of Black really fallen?
He tasted blood. He'd bitten through his lip. He hadn't screamed.
"Congratulations, Regulus" He heard at the same time he saw Lucius Malfoy's lips move.
"You are officially one of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers. A Death Eater."
He nodded, then, remembering himself, added. "Thank you. Lucius. It's an honor."
He looked around at the crowd surrounding him. To his right where his parents, looking stoic as ever. His cousin Narcissa was there, standing with her husband, Lucius. Several other prominent pureblood family heads and heirs were scattered about. The Mulcibers, the Crabes, the Goyles. To his left was Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, then his other cousin, Bellatrix, who was gazing adoringly at the man directly to his left. He would be handsome if it weren't for the chalky white color of his skin and his ever present frown. The man's pale hand was still on his wrist.
He turned, and looked directly into the red, stilted eyes of the Dark Lord Voldemort.
"Yes, congratulations indeed, Regulus."
He gulped
"Thank you, My Lord. It's an honor."
"Mmm, you said that already."
He had
"I-I did, my Lord, my most sincere and humble-"
"Enough. I don't care." The Dark Lord looked around in boredom before locking eyes with him again.
"Tell me, Regulus, why did you decide to join my ranks, Hmm? I do love to know my followers."
He said this in a flat tone, but Regulus had the impression he enjoys toying with his prey more than he liked fostering personal connections.
He blinked stupidly a couple of times before pulling himself together.
"I would not pass up an opportunity to serve such a magnificent and powerful wizard, my Lord."
Voldemort's lips quirked in thought.
"No, really. Why are you here?" Regulus felt as if the Dark Lord was looking straight into his soul, as if he knew Regulus didn't really belong here, that he didn't want to be here. He could not lie to this man. He was terrified.
"I…" He thought hard about his answer. "Wished to learn from you, my Lord. About the cause, about magic, about how the world ought to be."
Voldemort smiled.
Not your world. Not how you want it to be.
"Well then, Regulus."
From you, I've learned what evil is. I've learned what not to do.
"Be prepared."
All I've learned from you.
"All you'll learn from me…" Voldemort's other hand was around his neck, cutting off his air.
Is that all blood, pure or muggleborn, looks the same when it's coating your hands.
"Is Pain."
Pain.
He couldn't breathe. He was so thirsty. He needed to drink something, anything, or he'd die. He just needed some water. Some water and everything would be better. He looked around desperately for something to drink, anything, when he sees the black water, lapping at the shore of the island. It's as dark as ink, but anything is better than this unbearably thirst. He'd drink it even if it was ink. He made his way, stumbling towards it. Dimly he was aware of someone calling his name, but they would understand, wouldn't they? He would respond, just after he had something to drink.
He fell to his hands and knees at the shore.
His hand reached out towards the inky depths.
His fingers dipped below the water.
Another hand, wrinkly, pale, and clammy with diseased, black nails, shot out of the water and grabbed his forearm and yanked.
He overbalanced, and his face plunged into the water before he jumped back, but it was too late.
Hundreds of bodies surfaced across the entirety of the lake, all slowly making their way towards Regulus. The ones closest began to climb onto the island, uncaring of how their bodies were cut open on the rocks. They twisted and moved in ways that were less than human. They were puppets made of people, only capable of following a single command.
Currently, that command was driving them to drag anyone they could get a hold of into the lake to share their fate.
Several thin, decaying arms gripped his legs, pulling him back towards his death faster than he could scramble away. He scratched at the ground for a handhold, but only sliced up his hands and tore his nails.
The Inferi were using any means necessary to hold onto him. Their nails gouged into his flesh, and the ones that could sank their teeth into him. He felt more hands finding their grip on his various extremities as he felt himself slide further and further into the water. The last thing he saw before his head was yanked back by a strong tug at his hair was Kreacher, frozen still with Salazar Slytherin's locket dangling in his hands as he watched his master being stolen away by the dead.
He was underwater now, and no matter how hard he thrashed, he couldn't break free of even a single grip.
He wasn't thirsty anymore as ice cold water with the taste of rot flooded into his mouth and into his lungs. He had thought the potion burned before. It was worse now.
He was going to drown.
With one last effort, he wrenched enough of his arm free to raise his hand above the surface of the water, grasping for anything to pull him out of his grave, to save him.
His hand closed around a smaller, knobbier one before he felt the familiar tug of apparation squeezing around him.
Regulus landed in a freezing and drenched heap on his bedroom floor, alongside Kreacher, who was shaking just as badly as him. The elf had a few cuts from where he had obviously fought off the inferi, one of which was bleeding profusely.
Before he could reprimand Kreacher for putting himself in danger, all the water he swallowed came back up. He clutched his sides as he threw up onto his carpet.
Kreacher helped him hobble into his bathroom, where he threw up everything else in his system. He sat on the edge of the bathtub while the elf cut open his pant legs to clean his injuries. Regulus didn't look, he didn't want to see the bite marks, lest he throw up again. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball on the floor and die, but that would be a waste of Kreacher's heroics.
"Master, you is very hurt."
"I couldn't tell."
"Master should clean his wounds in the shower, when Master is done, Kreacher can wrap Master in bandages."
"Mmm."
Regulus didn't move, his gaze focused on the edge of the towel rack, he was in a daze.
"Please Master, if yous cuts are not cleaned, they will get worse. Master must get up now."
Regulus nodded, and after about four more seconds, he got up. He looked at Kreacher just as the elf was leaving the bathroom.
"Kreacher, where is the locket?"
Kreacher raised his closed fist. "I has it here Master."
"Give it to me."
Kreacher handed over the locket. "Does master still want Kreacher to destroy it?"
"No, I'll do it. Thank you for today, Kreacher, you saved my life."
"Master flatters Kreacher, Kreacher is just being a good elf sir."
"No, I ordered you to leave when you could, you chose to save me. Thank you. Go clean your own wounds, I'll see you shortly."
The elf blushed, Nodding furiously, and left Regulus alone.
His posture immediately relaxed into a slouch. He stripped, and with his wand, which Kreacher had left along with the locket, turned the shower on. After a moment's consideration, he put the locket around his neck. Considering where he found it, a little water probably wouldn't hurt. The water was cold when he tested it, reminding him unpleasantly of today's events, so he waited for it to become lukewarm before getting in. The warmer water stung his wounds, but it was better than the alternative. The water turned a pinkish brown as it ran into the drain. He spent a good couple of minutes staring at it before coming to. When he got out, the water had lost it's brown tinge, but was still very much pink.
He wrapped a towel around his waist, and called Kreacher back in. The amount of gauze he carried upstairs was more than necessary, and especially more than he could carry. The sentiment was nice, though. Regulus questioned him as Kreacher used magic to ensure his injuries wouldn't become infected and wrapped him in bandages.
"Has Mother returned from Aunt Durella's manor yet?"
Regulus had hardly seen hide nor hair of either of his parents since Sirius- since last summer. They were always out blackmailing ministry officials or talking about how pure their blood was with other purebloods, as most Death Eaters do. His father being out more often than in was nothing new, but his mother was intentionally avoiding the house. She took Sirius'... departure badly, she barely even acknowledged him these days, unless it was to warn him against turning out like his brother. His impromptu haircut hadn't helped things much. It was for the best, really. Neither of his parents would have tolerated what he'd just done. They'd turn him over to Voldemort themselves.
"No, Master Regulus. Mistress is staying with Miss Durella until September first, where she is seeing you off to Hogwarts."
"And what of Father?"
"Master is attending a Dinner party with the Malfoys, they were to have an important guest, Kreacher thinks they are hosting the Dark Lord."
Regulus shuddered at the mention of the man whose soul fragment was hanging off a chain around his neck.
He stood up, and his vision swam. He braced himself on the counter's edge, Kreacher tottered away next to him.
"I'm going to my room, Kreacher. I suggest you do the same." Sarcastically, he added, "We've had a long day."
Kreacher had bandaged his own wounds, with a bit of help from Regulus, while they were talking. He wanted to see Regulus to bed safely, but his stamina was coming to it's limit.
"Yes, Master. Call Kreacher if you is needing anything, Kreacher will get for you." the elf apparated to his cupboard.
Regulus got dressed quickly, minding his bandages. He used a spell to incinerate the clothes he wore in the cave as he passed had no idea how he was going to explain his injuries to his parents, if they even asked, that is. He sat gingerly on the edge of his bed, and pulled the locket out from under his shirt. In the low light of his room, the gold plating around the decorative letter S appeared molten, and moved slowly like honey as he turned it. It was beautiful, and very clearly magical. He could feel it thrumming on his palm. whether that was Voldemort's soul inside the locket giving it life, or something else altogether, he didn't know.
He should have done more research, he hadn't the faintest idea on how he should destroy it.
Regulus let the locket fall to his chest and slowly leaned back into his pillows. There was so much more to do, so much responsibility on his shoulders now, but his body wasn't listening to his brain anymore, his limbs were too heavy to move, anyway.
He closed his eyes and dreamt about runaway brothers, red, slitted eyes, and cold, dead hands dragging him towards the darkness.