Chapter Ten: The Marking
Regulus
August 1978, Hambleton Hall, Kent
Regulus Black hauled himself up from the dirt, panting. The fight seemed to be over. At least two, more likely three members of the Order of the Phoenix had been here, including his brother's friend Potter, and all of them had disappeared. That was going to make nobody happy.
He began the process of righting himself. His only injury was a small scrape on his arm, which took little effort to magically heal. His cloak was dirty, that needed cleaning. The robes underneath had suffered no damage.
Nott was still screaming on the floor. He had started all of this, and he could not even adequately finish it or look after himself afterwards.
Next to him, Rodolphus Lestrange had extracted himself from the conjured snakes with little hassle, and was pulling his brother to his feet. Dolohov was looking at Nott with distaste.
"I'd be inclined to leave him there, if not for the importance of tonight," said Regulus.
"I would be too, little shit. What was he hit with?" asked Dolohov, prodding Nott with his foot.
"I don't know. Finite Incantatum," said Regulus, and Nott stopped screaming.
"Get up," grunted Rabastan Lestrange, looking much the worse for the fight with half of the pus-filled blisters still on his face.
"I always was the better looking brother," said Rodolphus, looking at Rabastan with a laugh that nobody else shared.
The younger Lestrange brother made a noise somewhere between a hiss and a growl, turned his wand to his face and began to mutter a counter-curse while occasionally shooting angry glares at the others. Nott had managed to get himself up from the ground. He had a nasty cut on his leg, and walked with a limp.
Regulus turned from the others and looked up at Hambleton Hall. This was not exactly the way he had expected his night to go when Lucius had told him to report to the mansion for his Marking ceremony.
But then, he had not expected any of this. Three years ago he had been the second son of a prominent pureblood family, with little more expected of him than to marry well, although not as well as Sirius, produce some spares for the family line, and to assist his brother with the running of the family from time to time. Sirius had been difficult, their mother had told Regulus, but she was confident he would come back in line eventually.
Sirius had not. He'd run off to live with James Potter and the blood-traitors and look where that had left Regulus.
"Ready, boy?" asked Dolohov, appearing at his shoulder.
"As ever," said Regulus, feeling anything but.
The rather motley group made their way up the gravel path to the Lestrange's mansion in silence. Dolohov clearly wanted to be making jokes, or at least to be ribbing Regulus a little more, but one of the Lestrange brothers had given him a look that meant death.
Regulus supposed they wouldn't actually kill him. Death Eaters, after all, were only allowed to kill other Death Eaters on You-Know-Who's orders. Lucius had told him there were high penalties for disobeying their leader, but he'd assured Regulus you were only punished if you had done something that justified it. Lucius had said You-Know-Who was firm, but fair.
Although, given what Regulus knew, he thought it was entirely possible that the Lestrange brothers could kill Dolohov if they wanted to and make it look like the Order's work or an accident. Supposedly, their father had killed his father for his inheritance. And he'd got away with it, too, although rumour was the Ministry knew but had been too scared to act. It was of course polite to pretend that one did not know of the scandal, but every pureblood in society did.
The Black family had its own share of scandals. Sirius included. It was all that had been discussed in the Slytherin common room at Hogwarts when the heir to the rich, famous Black family had been publicly disowned, especially coming right on the dragon's tail of Andromeda's disownment. At least they'd had notice of Sirius' little scandal coming. Andromeda had given every sign that she was the same as the rest of them before coming home one evening with a single sparkling diamond on an engagement ring from that Mudblood. And that was just his generation.
Regulus was determined not to be a scandal. The Black name needed a heir, and he was the only one left to provide that. It was his duty. His mother was already doing the hard work of sifting through the eligible pureblood women, and he would be able to begin meeting those his mother deemed most suitable at Christmas. They could then marry as soon as they had both left Hogwarts. He would do what Sirius had been too selfish to manage.
Rodolphus Lestrange, leading the group, came to a stop a few feet from the front door.
"We tell him nothing."
Regulus nodded. They'd come off worst, and nobody wanted to admit to coming off worst in a fight.
Nott flinched visibly at Rodolphus' words. Rabastan and Dolohov did and said nothing. Ignoring whatever that was supposed to be, Regulus pushed open the ornate wooden doors to Hambleton Hall and stalked down the marble-floored hallway. It was after he'd gone seven or eight feet that he stopped, realising that he did not know which of the reception rooms the meeting was to be found in.
"Rodolphus?" he asked. He swallowed any fear that might have a chance of entering his voice. "Where am I required to be?" All the confidence required of him was present in his tone.
"Ah yes," said Rodolphus. "Wait in here, we will call you." He pushed open a black door and ushered Regulus into a small, luxuriously appointed office. The door shut behind him.
Without anything else to do except wait in silence, Regulus perused the tall mahogany bookshelves that lined the room. Many of the titles were ones they had at home, thick leather-bound tomes on economics, politics and complex magic. He settled on one he'd seen on his father's bookshelf at home, 'The Mudbloods and the Wizangamot: British wizarding politics 1895-1930'. He'd been wanting to take a look at that one since Lucius had recommended it to him a few weeks ago.
Crossing the room, Regulus settled himself on the chair in front of the desk. He felt it would be a presumptuous to take the seat behind it, which was a large wing-back chair fitted with velvet cushions, and very much was the chair of the head of the household. The seat Regulus chose also had velvet cushions, but was smaller and much less fancy, and the one dedicated to visitors. Regulus did not need to be told all of this, of course. He had been brought up properly.
The book explained a lot about their current situation. Things in wizarding society had began to change once Mudbloods had been elected to the Wizengamot, and those changes were not for the better. Regulus knew most of the examples already, of course, from discussions with his friends and his father about the state of the wizarding world, but the book gave him further information. He had not realised that the Mudbloods had removed the laws to allow one to only employ pureblood wizards in his business. As if the Ministry should have any say in who a private business chose to employ.
He was onto the second chapter of the book when the door opened once more. This time, it was Lucius Malfoy that stood in the doorway, dressed impeccably in black and silver robes as usual and holding some strange kind of stick.
"Ah, Regulus," said Lucius. "The Dark Lord is ready for you now."
Regulus replaced the book on the shelf, intending to locate his father's copy that evening to read further.
"Is that a part of the ceremony?" he asked Lucius, indicating the stick.
"This?" asked Lucius. "Oh, no. This is just something I picked up in Borgin and Burkes yesterday. I quite like it, don't you?"
"It's very stately," said Regulus, stifling a very un-pureblooded laugh. The cane was ridiculous, but Regulus was not going to say that to Lucius. He needed the man on his side, as he had been very helpful to him in recommending Regulus to You-Know-Who without requiring a favour in return.
"Thank you," said Lucius, puffing his chest slightly. "This way. You're not nervous, are you?"
Regulus was not clear on why every Death Eater he'd seen here tonight was so intent on asking him that question. It was as if they thought he was weak. He was the Black family heir, and he was anything but weak. He was putting himself in front of You-Know-Who voluntarily, in order to be of service and to bring the Black family back to its rightful place at the head of wizarding society, and there was nothing weak about that.
"Of course not," he answered. "I'm doing what has to be done."
"And rightly so," said Lucius.
They had arrived outside a set of double doors. Lucius flicked his wand, and the silver rings twisted and the doors opened in front of them.
Regulus stepped inside the ballroom, which he remembered well from trips here in the recent past. Bellatrix's wedding reception had been held in the dark-painted, high-ceilinged room, which had been bedecked with floral arrangements and swathes of emerald green fabric. It had been Regulus' first formal event as heir of the Black family, and he had done his best to impress. He'd danced with the Crouch girl, Elsie, who he'd very much liked, and the third daughter of the Fawley family, Adeline, who he had liked better.
He ought to remember to ask his mother to make sure Adeline and Elsie made it onto the list for potential wives.
Of course, he had also attended Bellatrix's engagement party here, and that had been a much less enjoyable occasion. Sirius had been on the outs with the family then, and he had been sure to make everyone in the room aware of that fact.
Today, the room was cleared of tables, chairs and other furniture, except for a large table at the front of the room. There were no elaborate decorations, just burning candles on the walls and You-Know-Who's symbol illuminated above the table. Death Eaters lined the sides of the room, all in variations of black robes and all wearing strange bronze masks. Some of the masks were plain, others patterned intricately or engraved with runes of protection and hiding.
Lucius snapped his mask to his face, and escorted Regulus down the line of Death Eaters towards the three people at the front of the room. Most of the masked people were men, and Regulus was sure he could have named at least half of them with the masks on and more without. A few women graced their ranks; he recognised Nott's sister, who had married a Burke, and the Rowle sisters Mercy and Euphemia.
And Bellatrix was clearly standing at the front of the room, her black curls falling around the sides of her mask, alongside Rodolphus Lestrange and the man who could only have been the Lord Voldemort that Regulus was intending to join.
Many of the Death Eaters nodded to Lucius and Regulus as they made their slow and steady way down the room, especially those furthest towards the back. Those closer to the front were more guarded, watching the two walking past but not acknowledging them in any way. There was no other way of distinguishing between those at each end of the room; everywhere was a mixture of old and young, those Regulus was certain were pureblooded and those of half-blood birth, the few women dotted in amongst the men.
Before he was ready to be there, Regulus passed the last Death Eaters and reached the front of the room. Lucius melted away into the lines of Death Eaters, and Regulus was left standing in front of the man he had come here to join.
"Regulus Black," said Lord Voldemort, his voice smooth. It was not a question, just a statement of fact.
"My Lord," said Regulus. He bowed his head and offered his wand handle first, the way Lucius had told him to.
"Good boy," said Lord Voldemort. He did not touch Regulus' wand, and motioned for him to replace it into his pocket. "Lucius has prepared you well, I see. Are you ready to join me and my little band of friends and comrades in arms, Mr Black?"
"I am."
A cheer erupted from the massed ranks of the Death Eaters. The ones at the back of the room had folded in to form a semicircle with Regulus at its centre, a semicircle of black fabric and bronze masks that reflected the light of the candles. Through the eye-holes in the masks, Regulus could see all of the eyes in the room were focused on him.
"Do you understand what you are getting yourself in for, I wonder?"
"Lucius has explained, my Lord."
"Good. And why do you wish to join me?"
"I want to do the right thing by my family. I want a society where it is no longer shameful to be a pureblood and a Black. Mudbloods have no place thinking themselves as equals to a wizard with true wizarding blood. I want to be able to stand up and say that I believe in the sanctity of wizarding society and of the old ways."
Lucius had told him the question would be asked, and had helped him rehearse the answer. They had gone through many variations of it, and this was what they had settled on as the one that most closely represented his views and sounded the best.
"Your family. You have a brother, I believe?"
"No. I don't."
Lord Voldemort laughed. It was a laugh like no other that Regulus had ever heard, slightly tinkly with a tinge of malice. "No brother? I had heard you had one, a blood-traitor by the name of Sirius."
"Sirius is no brother of mine," Regulus spat. "He ceased to be my brother on the day he walked out of our family."
Regulus felt a soft touch of something, a nudge in his head. He had been warned that the Lord often used Leglilimency against his new recruits, to check for spies in the midst, and Regulus thought that sounded eminently sensible. He had learnt the basics of Occulmency from his father, but he had nothing to hide here. He pushed forward his memories of Sirius; the day he had left the Black family home in disgrace and interactions with him in the halls of Hogwarts afterwards that showed Regulus had no love for his brother. Not now, anyway. They had liked each other as children, but that was with a childish love and not with the knowledge that Regulus had now.
"I see that you speak the truth."
"I would never speak anything less to you, my Lord."
"See that it remains so." For the first time in their interaction Regulus detected a note of harshness in the Lord's voice, although he almost thought he had imagined it as by the time the Dark Lord spoke next it was back to his usual honeyed tones. "But you have always been loyal to our cause, have you not?"
"I have, my Lord."
"Lucius tells me you are not yet out of Hogwarts, and I did wonder if it was wise to bring one so young in and one so under the influence of Albus Dumbledore."
"I am seventeen, my Lord. I am of age, and I am keen to fight. As for Dumbledore," Regulus had to bite back the Professor he had always added in front of the old Headmaster's name, which he felt would not be welcome here, "I have never felt the old man had much influence over me."
"And who do you feel influences you, Black?"
"My mother," he began, until he heard the laughter of the Death Eaters behind and around him. "My father. Orion Black, a believer in your cause. Lucius Malfoy, who brought me here tonight. My dear cousin Bellatrix. Horace Slughorn, my Head of House."
He hoped that was the correct answer. He had felt he ought to mention Bellatrix, the way she watched him with her dark eyes from her place of honour next to her Lord. She claimed the Dark Lord trusted her above others.
"A worthy group. I have great respect for all of those witches and wizards. Your mother is quite fearsome in her belief in the Black family, is she not?"
"She is."
"Now, Regulus. You are of the blood to join me, and we would be most honoured to have a son of one of our most distinguished families in our midst. You have the references. Lucius, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Severus and several others have vouched for you as being of a likeness with us and a worthy member of our cause. So far, your actions have been befitting of a Death Eater. What would you wish to gain, from joining us?"
"To gain?" This was not a question Regulus has been expecting.
"Yes. You are a Slytherin, are you not? Do you not have a healthy personal ambition?"
"I am. I do. I wish to gain… I want to make my family strong again."
"And you shall. See what you can do about that former brother of yours, won't you?"
"I shall, my Lord."
"And now, we have one last test before you can join our ranks, Mr Black."
Regulus gulped. Lucius had not been allowed to tell him what the final test would be. Regulus was imagining something incredibly painful, like the initiation test to get into the club for Slytherin fifth years and above.
"Tell us your deepest secret, Regulus Black. And remember, the Dark Lord knows when you are lying to him."
Bellatrix smiled, and folded her hands neatly in front of her. She knew of what he would have to say. But say it he would, because if the Black family honour rested on this then he would do what he must.
"My Lord, I regret it, but…" he took a deep breath, placing his hand on his wand in his robes pocket to steady himself. "I have had a relationship with a Mudblood girl."
The room erupted into laughter, loud and raucous laughter that bounced from the ceiling of the ballroom and surrounded Regulus.
"Did you love her, my boy?"
"No. She was nice enough, for the while." Regulus thought of the girl, a Hufflepuff called Sharon. She was blonde and skinny, like the girls he had always gone for, with a quick wit. They had slept together six times in a broom cupboard on the third floor over the course of a month, and then she had dumped him when he had refused to take her to Hogsmeade. She had accused him of being unwilling to be seen with her, and given that it was the truth Regulus had found he had little to say in response.
"You are not the first in my service to have been with a Mudblood. Some here have even thought they loved one." The Death Eater that Regulus was certain was Severus Snape, in the middle of the ranks, shifted uncomfortably. "We do not judge that. If you were to marry her… that would be a problem. But they do have their uses, Mudbloods, and I am not one to deny my followers enjoyment where they can find it."
More laughter from the Death Eaters.
"I think you'll do nicely here. Tell me. Are you ready to pledge your life to the cause?"
"I am."
"Bellatrix." The woman, who had been demurely watching events with a slight smirk on her face, moved towards the table behind her. "Now, Regulus, I hear this spell hurts a little bit. I would not know. It is of my own invention, and I have never used it on myself. But I can assure you the benefits are more than worth it.
"It binds you to me, my dear Regulus, and to the others that you see in here today. We will be like the brothers you should have had. And sisters, of course." A nod to Bellatrix, who had returned with three vials of potion and a silver dagger. "You will be tied to me for life, and you will do my bidding. In return, I will grant you what you desire; the chance to redeem your family and wizarding society.
"Regulus Black, are you prepared to join me?"
"Yes."
Bellatrix was approaching him with the dagger and the potions. It was indicated for him to clasp hands with the Dark Lord, as if swearing an Unbreakable Vow. Lucius had told him it was not, and that he would not die if he broke it but that it would still be extremely unwise. Rodolphus stood beside them, wand out.
"Do you promise to obey me, to come when called, and to do what I ask in a timely manner, even if that is something that you would not ordinarily wish to do?"
"I promise," said Regulus. Bellatrix handed him the first vial of potion, and he drank.
"Do you promise to uphold the principles of our creed wherever possible, stamping out the Mudblood curse on our pure blood and the stain on our society?"
"I promise." He drank the second vial handed to him by Bellatrix with slightly shaky hands.
"Do you promise to be a Death Eater for life?"
"I promise." Regulus took the last vial and threw it back down his throat.
There was a flash of green light from Rodolphus' wand, which formed into a snake-like cable around the hand of the Dark Lord and Regulus' own hand twisting and turning. There was a heat coming off it, not overwhelming but enough to be noticed, and Regulus felt the magic brush his skin as the snake-cable wound tighter.
Around them, the Death Eaters had closed their ranks and formed a tight circle. Each masked witch or wizard held their wands aloft and were casting a web of silver over the tops of Regulus and the Dark Lord. Bellatrix and Rodolphus had slipped backwards to join the circle, to join the faceless wall of bronze and black.
They were chanting, chanting spells Regulus had never heard before perfectly in unison. There was the thrum of magic in the background, a noise like the bass line in one of the dreadful wizarding rock bands Sirius had enjoyed and played loudly at home to irritate their parents.
The Dark Lord placed the tip of the silver dagger onto Regulus' arm. It had a serpent handle with an emerald for an eye, a Slytherin's dagger if ever he had seen one. There was the sharp prick of the blade piercing his skin, and a spare vial clinked as a few droplets of his blood were collected and placed safely into the Dark Lord's robes. He took a step back, a quiet smile on his face.
It was then that Regulus felt the pain.
The dagger on his arm was moving, directed by the Dark Lord's wand, but Regulus barely noticed. There could have been one blade in his arm or a thousand for the pain he was feeling. His body was falling in on itself. His brain had shattered into a thousand tiny pieces and exploded across the room. It was like nothing he had ever felt.
He would not scream.
Regulus did allow himself to sink to his knees. The knife stayed steady, doing it's work. The pain wasn't coming from his arm. Not more so than anywhere else. It was everywhere. In his feet, in his chest, his head, his legs, his hands. He was ripping apart and being forced back together at the same time.
And he could not think.
The chanting was louder.
The magic was thrumming.
He was being split into two.
A pain erupted in his chest, a thousand knives bearing into him with one movement. Regulus clutched at his chest to steady himself and close his eyes.
He would not scream.
Bellatrix shouted, a light exploded. Regulus closed his eyes. He would not scream.
He could take nothing more, but it was still coming.
A pain he could not describe.
Chanting.
Thrumming.
Light.
Noise.
The knife was hot and then it was cold, heating his blood and freezing it.
He had never felt such pain.
Pain.
The.
Worst.
Pain.
He struggled to breathe. It was coming in ragged gasps. His head was light. It was exploding.
He reached for his wand. If he could curse his feet off they would no longer be on fire. Curse off his own chest. Not the arm.
And then it stopped. Regulus' arms flopped to his sides and his eyes opened.
"You did well," said the soft, smooth voice of the Dark Lord. "You did not scream. That is… exceptional. Welcome to the Death Eaters, Black."
With a ruffle of his cloak, the Dark Lord was gone.
In his place stood Lucius and Bellatrix. He hauled Regulus up from the ground, and Bellatrix handed him his own bronze mask. As he took it, the metal flickered with a light almost in recognition of its new owner. He wondered why, but there was no space in his brain for questions. It felt like a fleet of Doxies had taken refuge in there, flapping around and nipping at the inside of his skull.
"My dear cousin, I knew you would not let us down!" Bellatrix wrapped him in an uncharacteristic hug. Regulus had barely seen her show this level of affection to her own husband.
"Congratulations, Regulus," said Lucius. "Take this."
He was handing Regulus a glass of amber liquid, almost certainly Firewhisky. In the hope that it would sort out the feelings in his brain and in his body, Regulus drank the glass down in one. The usual burn of the alcohol on his throat barely registered.
Lucius clapped him on the back.
"Come, now, I must make some introductions," he said. "Everyone will want to meet you. The Black heir and the newest recruit to the cause. You've done your family and all of us proud."
His family. Yes, his mother and father would be rightfully proud of how he had conducted himself. They were too old to join, they had felt, but had more than approved of Regulus' intentions. This was about them, and about the heirs he would produce, and a little bit of pain in that would not prevent him from getting to the ending he had in mind.