A/N: New week, new set of warnings. More awful parent/child relationships, self-sacrifice bordering on suicide, blood, self-harm as a way to open doors, zombies, body horror, and drug-induced self-hatred.
Sunday he slept almost till noon, but was woken by his mother screaming.
Regulus scrambled down the stairs, belting on a robe as he did so, to find Grandfather Arcturus standing in the entryway. He was a tall man with long white hair pulled back in a braid. As always, he looked stern but reasonable.
Walburga was shrieking. "I can't leave! You can't make me!"
"I can," Grandfather Arcturus said, not yelling but without any give in his voice. "I am Duke of Exeter and you are both a wife and a daughter in the house of Black. You are my responsibility, and never more so than when your husband lies in my household."
She broke down completely at that, and Regulus could only follow a few of her words. "I didn't—my husband—tearing me away—traitor—"
At that, Grandfather Arcturus's temper snapped. "Silencio!" he said, drawing his wand faster than Regulus thought possible. "You will come to Teignbridge Manor and tend your husband, and that will be the end of it." He grabbed her wrist and for once, Walburga did not protest.
Regulus stepped down one stair, just enough to draw the eye. "My father-?"
"Is stable," Grandfather Arcturus said, almost kind, "and has been released home, but he will need round the clock care for the foreseeable future."
Home must be Teignbridge, which was home to Grandfather Arcturus, being the seat of the Black family for as long as there had been one. "But why not here?"
"The charms on this house are bound to him," said Grandfather Arcturus tightly, pulling Regulus's mother towards the door. "They will draw from his magic if he's here, and he is too weak for that."
Regulus felt dizzy and had to sit down on the stairs. "That bad?" he whispered.
Grandfather Arcturus looked very serious. "I don't know who tipped the Aurors off. Until I do, remain here. I'll be in contact if your father's condition worsens." He walked out the door, Regulus's mother following unwillingly. A moment later there was a crack of Apparition.
Regulus sat on the stairs for a while. His mother was gone. He had just been told to remain where he was—in other words, no one would expect him anywhere for a day or two. He could go—flee his home—steal the Horcrux—
His thoughts came to a halt. The Dark Lord hadn't intended for Kreacher to survive, and he wouldn't have if Regulus hadn't left an order to return. So then, surely, Regulus himself was unlikely to survive.
He swallowed and stared at his hands. He didn't want to die, not really. A Horcrux was a very, unquestionably evil object and needed to be destroyed, but he wasn't sure about his death coming with it. The Dark Lord…
Would keep killing, Regulus realized sickly. He had tried to kill Kreacher, he had murdered countless—not just those who opposed him and whose deaths had been called for, but Regulus had seen him kill Death Eaters for failure. And all the time, he was planning to make himself immortal—but nothing else, that Regulus had seen. There was no talk of plans for after the war and little on how to reform the Ministry beyond a strident call that it be reformed.
No, Regulus thought, the Dark Lord had to die, and soon. There were too many atrocities coming for too little purpose. How much of what the Dark Lord said had to be lies?
And if Regulus's death could make it happen, well… Sometimes sacrifices had to be made. Besides, who else could do it? He couldn't send Kreacher; that was not Kreacher's role. And he didn't know about telling anyone else—what if he chose poorly?
It felt like forever had passed, but when he went back to his room, his clock said it was only half past noon. He had decided to wait until dark—perhaps midnight would be even better—so that wherever this cave was, there would be no possible bystanders. That gave him plenty of time to pour through the library again and try to find hints at what the defences could be.
"Kreacher," Regulus said just before midnight, standing in the entryway.
The house elf appeared, muttering things under his breath until he looked up at Regulus. "What is Master Regulus wanting?"
"Take me to the same cave the Dark Lord took you to."
Kreacher looked much more awake and went very pale. "Master Regulus cannot mean that, Master Regulus means another cave—"
"I meant what I said, Kreacher," he said, a little annoyed at the house elf's delaying. The sooner they reached the cave, the sooner would be over.
The elf shook his head back and forth, making his ears swing. "But Master Regulus will get hurt!"
He didn't really have an answer for that one, not when the note in his pocket said he knew he would die. "I order you to take me."
Kreacher wailed, ears drooping, but he grabbed Regulus's hand regardless. With a snap of his fingers, they vanished.
They appeared somewhere in the middle of pouring rain. Between the wet and the dark, he couldn't see beyond the slick black rock they were standing on. He shook water out of his eyes, drawing his wand. "Lumos!"
The light showed a narrow but choppy stretch of sea, a little wider than a city street, and then a sheer cliff that towered out of sight. A few feet above the water was the dark opening of a cave. They would need to swim; the spellwork didn't allow Kreacher to get any closer.
Regulus was shivering already. Shoving his wand back in his pocket, he jumped off the rock. The freezing water made him yelp as he briefly went under, but he struck out and got his head above water to gasp a breath of even colder air. His robes hung like lead around him.
A moment later there was a shriek as Kreacher hit the water. Regulus couldn't see him in the dark, but tried to swim towards the sound of splashing.
"We goes—this way—Master Regulus!" Kreacher yelled.
There was a bright flash of light that formed into a golden line stretching between them and the cliff. Regulus swam towards it, struggling against the cold and the sodden weight of his robes. By the time he made it to the cliff face, he was shivering too hard to speak.
The cold made it hard to find handholds on the cliff and the water didn't help either, not when the waves were coming in hard and fast. He was thrown completely off at one point and went under the waves only to have his foot brush something in the water and send him rushing upward, sputtering water and gasping with fear. Eventually he managed it, though, and got both hands and feet set on the rock. It wasn't easy at that point to climb up to the cave opening, but it was possible.
Kreacher had already made it up and dispelled the golden light at the sight of him. Wordlessly, they walked into the cave. The passage was tall and narrow, and the floor, walls, and ceiling were all covered in a layer of seaweed. He supposed it must be low tide and that the passage would flood when the tide came in.
As they walked down the passage, Regulus brushed his fingers against the slimy walls. They resonated with magic, some form of natural enchantment that protected these caves from Apparition and elf magics and no doubt other things. Without warning there was a flight of steps that led into a larger cave. He stood in the centre, still shivering, and looked around. "Kreacher, do you remember what he did here?"
Dripping wet, ears pressed flat against his head, Kreacher nodded shakily. "The Dark Lord cuts his finger and puts it here." He reached up and touched a random point on the wall.
Of all the magical disciplines not taught at Hogwarts, blood magic was possibly the crudest, Regulus thought with disgust. There were plenty of ways to make entry difficult, but instead the Dark Lord had gone for the one that most wizards would find abhorrent instead.
Regulus drew his wand and quickly Banished the water from himself and from Kreacher before cutting his fingertip open. It welled with blood and he touched it to the rock before he could reconsider.
His skin crawled as the wall dissolved into air in front of him. Heart in his mouth, he stepped forward into the empty space.
Beyond the wall was another cavern dimly lit by a sickly green light radiating from the centre. "Lumos maxima." A bright ball of light flew out of his wand and hovered near the ceiling. It showed the full extent of the cavern: a wide, green-black lake with a small rocky island in the middle. There were no other exits.
"Master Regulus," Kreacher said in a pitiful moan. "Kreacher remembers a boat."
Regulus looked where the elf was pointing and saw a small wooden dinghy resting on the shore. For all that he had seen the Black Lake every day through the common room windows, Regulus did not like large bodies of water, and liked them even less when they were eerily black and lapping against his feet. Kreacher had said there were Inferi here, hadn't he?
Too late to turn back now. He clambered into the boat, knocking his knee against the seat, and gestured for Kreacher to join him. The house elf was chewing on his nails, eyes wide and scared, but sat in the bow of the boat, arms wrapped around trembling knees.
Regulus tapped his wand against the boat. It jerked off the shore and Regulus hunkered down as it moved across the lake. He gripped his seat tightly, pressing his fingers into the rough wood, focusing on that rather than the dark, deep water around him. From time to time, something would splash, although he could never see it doing so, and he hoped it was only fish. Inferi were bad enough silent and still.
When the boat bumped against the island, he jumped in shock, making it tilt sharply. Careful not to disturb the lake, he climbed out of the boat, followed by Kreacher. Only once he was safely on solid ground did he let himself look down into the lake.
There was no gentle slope into the water: the white stone of the island ended sharply, and then a foot below there was black fathomless water. The island had used to be larger, for there were scattered stones in the water, a few just breaking the surface. The boat had pulled itself up on the flattest stretch, and even then was left resting at an angle.
As he looked at the water, something white and sleek moved in it, too little like a fish. It swam down, out of his sight, but then came back, and he could see the long, pale fingers of a human hand.
He jerked back, and knocked loose a rock that fell into the water.
The thing—body—Inferiusleaped at him. All he could see for a moment was white flesh and the bright light he had put on the ceiling. Then it hit him and knocked him down and he fell heavily, his elbows hitting the stone. It crouched on his chest, clawing at his robes, turning its head side to side so he could see the way one cheek dangled loose and the rows of sharpened teeth inside its jaw.
"Ignis!" Regulus shouted, trying to bring his wand up. Fire exploded between them, throwing the Inferius back. It scrabbled back onto the island, though, and stared at him through the flames, clacking its teeth together repeatedly.
Regulus shoved himself upright and pushed the fire towards the Inferius. It made a rattling noise through a torn throat, and threw itself back in the lake. He dismissed the flames.
Nausea choked him, and he had to remain sitting for a minute. The Inferiius had almost killed him, its hands had been tearing through his robes, there was a scratch on his chest, and he couldn't accept that he had come so close to success, only to almost be killed by a corpse.
"Master Regulus," Kreacher said lowly. He was wringing his hands and swaying back and forth. "Master Regulus, it is over here but Kreacher…" He didn't seem able to articulate what was upsetting him.
Regulus couldn't blame him. The cave was creepy, the Inferius left his legs weak, but the worst thing was that pedestal. It was in the center of the island: a waist-high black stone with a basin full of glowing green potion on it. It had to be the Potion of Despair, which would bring up all his worst memories—much like a dementor, only with no hope of release. Wouldn't that be fun.
Regulus took a simple gold locket out of one pocket and a piece of parchment out of the other. He had written half a dozen different notes while waiting for night, but had finally settled on one and signed it R.A.B. If someone other than the Dark Lord found it, he doubted they would be able to follow the note back to his family.
He folded the parchment and put it inside the locket, then handed that to Kreacher. "I'm going to drink this," he said flatly. "If I can't, if I want to stop, you must make me, Kreacher, you understand? Make me drink the potion. And when I'm done, switch this locket with the one in the basin. And then go straight home and destroy it. You must destroy it, Kreacher, you must." The house elf's head was bobbing up and down frantically but Regulus continued. "And you can't tell Mother, I don't care if she's your Mistress or not, she's never to know about this, understand me? Don't tell Mother. Take the locket and go home and destroy it. That's all."
Regulus was shaking, body sluggish with fear, but he managed to turn away from his elf and pick up the crystal goblet that sat on the pedestal.
The potion was so thick he had to tilt the goblet nearly vertical to get it to slide, greasily, into his mouth. It tasted strongly of almonds and clung to his teeth and tongue. He forced it down, even though he wanted to gag. Once it was down, it sat heavily in his stomach, only it was also moving around and he could feel it forcing its way into the rest of his body.
Quickly, before he could rethink this, he filled the goblet a second time and drained it.
He was abruptly nauseous and sweating, flashing hot and cold all at once. It was getting hard to think; he only knew that drinking the potion was important, so he drank a third goblet.
There was something he had to remember, there was something important about what he was feeling, only he couldn't put a finger on it because his stomach had cramped violently, and he couldn't do anything but bend over the pedestal and try not to sob.
Somehow, he drank a fourth goblet.
It was all his fault, he knew that, he knew it was all his fault his father was dying in St Mungo's, because he had frozen, and that was because he was weak willed and spineless, he was incompetent and not worthy of his parents, and he had frozen, and then his father was in pain and then he was dying in St Mungo's and it was all his fault—
"Master Regulus must drink!"
He had taken such pleasure in the fire and he shouldn't have done that, he was a nasty, rotten child to focus on that instead of his father, he should have stopped and gone straight to St Mungo's, he should have never dropped his guard at all because it was all his fault his father was dying, he was a failure of a Black, a useless waste of space, half the wizard his brother was and he couldn't even stop admiring his brother who was no longer his brother because he was disinherited but he would always love Sirius only Sirius probably hated him—
"Kreacher is sorry but Master Regulus must!"
Words came out of his mouth and liquid went into it, which he didn't deserve, he deserved to die in pain, just like his father was, because it was all his fault and surely his family hated him, his mother did and she should because he had let his father get cursed and he should have stopped it and it was just that he was in pain and there was liquid in his mouth and his nose and his lungs and this was the punishment for letting his father get cursed when it was all his fault and for making his mother upset and he should never ever make her upset because his mother was good and had raised him when she only needed one son but she only had one son because Sirius was gone and Sirius had to hate him for what he had said when Sirius was leaving and also for letting his father get cursed because it was all his fault—
Somewhere in the distance there was a clink of metal, and then there was nothing.
