I, Who Have Gone Further
1979
As the little boat slowly made its way across the lake, he looked around carefully. The cave was disturbingly quiet. The green glow emanating from the far side of the lake made it all the worse. Were the circumstances different, the cave might have seemed peaceful. As it was, he felt as though a darkness was pressing on his soul. Odd thought, that. Accurate, though. A taint of evil was present and heavy on the air.
"You're certain, Kreacher, that they will remain dormant?" he asked in a low voice.
Kreacher turned nervously from the front of the boat, "Yes, Master Regulus. The water bodies only come out if the waters is touched."
"Good."
They had reached the other side of the lake. The boat bumped against the shore gently, and Kreacher quickly scrambled out of it and pulled it onto the rocks. The little elf danced around carefully, not wanting to chance touching the water.
Regulus followed Kreacher out of the boat and stared at the source of the green light. It was a shallow basin set in stone. He started towards it but stopped when Kreacher let out a whimper.
"Please, Master. It is very bad potion," whispered the elf.
The young wizard nodded and said, "Don't worry, Kreacher. You'll not be drinking it this time." With that, he continued towards the basin.
It was unremarkable, really. Regulus was rather surprised that the Dark Lord had opted for something so simple. It was much different from the general lavishness that accompanied the Death Eater gatherings. Considering what he was fairly certain the basin held, he was further surprised at the simplicity.
The potion inside was clear, but he couldn't quite tell what was beneath it. When he tried to touch it, his hand was forced back by an invisible force. Uncertain, he turned back to Kreacher.
"What did he do to it to make it untouchable, Kreacher? Is there a spell?" Regulus was reluctant to use magic in case it disturbed the bodies in the water.
"The Dark Lord casted no spell, Master. Kreacher tested the bad potion for the Dark Lord. Kreacher could not touch, only drink. The Dark Lord gave Kreacher a goblet and told him to empty the basin. Kreacher could not pour it out; the Dark Lord laughed when Kreacher tried. Kreacher had to drink, Master." The elf's voice quivered and became more hurried.
Regulus felt a rush of anger. When the dark wizard had asked to borrow his house-elf, he had pretended to eagerly comply. For some time, Regulus had begun to suspect his master of unspeakable magic. There were things he had let slip that had been reminiscent of dark magic that Regulus was only aware of because of illicit trips to the Hogwarts Library's Restricted Section. It stood starkly out in his mind because Professor Slughorn had caught him one night and become severely agitated when he had realized the subject of his student's study.
It had been near the end of his seventh year, and he had wanted to read as much as he could before leaving Hogwarts. His father would not yet allow him access to the more questionable books in his library, therefore Regulus thought it wise to become familiar with as much dark magic as he could. He had joined the Dark Lord over the Christmas holiday and been rewarded with a mark. Though he had recognized the basics of the spell used to brand him, it was only after much more research that he had realized all of the ramifications of it.
As a reward for joining such a brilliant wizard's cause, his father had given him permission to use his private library. There he had discovered just how much control the Dark Lord now had over him. He had also rediscovered the subject with which Professor Slughorn had been so disturbed. His discovery came only a few short months after his Marking, and things had already revealed themselves to be not quite what they had seemed.
Regulus had quickly become disillusioned with the dark wizard's claims. There was much more to the Dark Lord than simple pure-blood supremacy.
That had been a year ago. Regulus had been very careful to continue in his role, but he always paid attention to the Dark Lord's speechs. Over the months, he had become more and more convinced that he was correct in his suspicions. When he had finally gotten Kreacher to tell him about what the Dark Lord had wanted an elf for, he felt his suspicions had been confirmed. The only thing left was to see it for himself.
With a glance down at the shaking elf, Regulus drew his wand from his sleeve and conjured a goblet. Ignoring Kreacher's squeak of protest, he dipped it into the basin. When he withdrew it, full of potion, he attempted to pour it on the rocks at his feet. The potion remained in the goblet as though it were right side up. When he tried to touch it with a finger, it flung his hand back just as it had before. He hesitated a moment before lifting it to sniff it.
As he breathed in, despair similar to the effects of a dementor washed over him, and he quickly jerked the goblet away. His mouth felt extremely dry, and he had an intense longing for water. The feeling passed after a moment, and he took a steadying breath.
"Kreacher," he said, "Get back in the boat."
The elf looked at him with wide eyes, seeming to want to protest but dared not defy a direct order. He climbed back into the boat and stared at his young master.
Regulus took a last detailed look around the cave before giving the boat a shove. With it sufficiently back in the water, he jumped into it. The water splashed, and the boat tipped dangerously for a moment before settling. Regulus stared into the water at the bodies that seemed closer to the surface than they had earlier. His lip curled in disgust as the boat began to move back to the other shore. He couldn't seem to look away from the emaciated corpses. How many were there? When had they died? When had they been defiled by the dark magic that now controlled them?
Inferi. He had never actually seen any before. He'd heard, of course. The Death Eaters were fond of torturing people with the re-animated corpses of their loved ones. The stories had always been disturbing, but the reality was sickening. Muggles and wizards alike reduced to vessels of dark magic. They had likely been tortured and stripped of all dignity before being granted an excruciating but welcome death. Even in death, they were deprived of dignity. There would never be rest in peace for these bodies. They would exist until destroyed by their maker. What was the stain, Regulus wondered, that resulted on the soul of one who practiced such magic?
He felt bile rise as they passed over the body of a child. A little girl that might have been six or seven. He wanted desperately to destroy the corpse. Such an innocent creature should not be subjected to this. Closing his eyes, Regulus focused on breathing until he felt the boat lurch against the shore.
Regulus allowed Kreacher to lead the way back to the entrance of the cave. When Kreacher went to cut his hand to pay the stone its tribute of blood, though, he stopped him. He drew a short knife from an inner pocket of his robes and pressed it against his palm. As he scraped his hand against the rock wall, the pain centered him.
A few moments later, the young wizard stared out at the sea.
"Kreacher?" Regulus murmered.
The elf quickly came to his side. "Kreacher is here, Master," the little elf squeaked. Kreacher was much less tense since they had left the lake, but he was still quite ready to go home and sleep in his little nest.
Regulus pulled up his left sleeve to look at his mark. The ugly skull stared back at him, and he jerked the sleeve back down. Putting the Muggles and Muggleborns in their place was one thing; practicing the blackest of magics was another thing entirely.
"How far along the path have you gone? And how far have you yet to go?"
"Master?" Kreacher crept closer.
"Enough," Regulus whispered, "This is far enough."
Kreacher reached out to touch the young wizard's arm, his large ears lowered in uncertainty.
Abruptly, Regulus knelt down in front of the elf. He held out an arm for Kreacher to grasp. "Kreacher," he said quietly, "Take me to Hogwarts. To Dumbledore."