A/N: Regulus does what he can to end Voldemort's reign.

Submission for:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): Arithmancy Assignment #7 - Write about one of the lesser know death eaters - Regulus Black

Greek Mythology Mega Prompt Challenge: Cyclopes – Write about dishonour to the Ministry or Voldemort's Reign.

Open Category Competition 2: Canon

He took another sip of the foul liquid, his insides melting away as it burnt and cooled from within. Another hacking cough, another deep red drop against the paleness of his hand as his blood dribbled down his chin, but he couldn't stop now. He had already gone this far.

Another sip forced down his throat. Another strangled cry resonating about the secret cavern. Another voice telling him he should get out of here now, get out before he found him and he was punished. Maybe he should listen to the voice before it was too late...

"Master," Kreacher quivered before him, holding the small ladle in front of his thin chest. "Please."

"Kreacher," he managed to get out, shouting above the sound of his father telling him that he was dishonoring his name. "More."

Another sip. Another loud scream bouncing around the room and mingling with that of his mother as she shouted about blood purity. She would be thoroughly disappointed if she knew he was doing this. He was a blood-traitor, even worse than his brother-

"More!" he cried, spitting more blood onto the stones.

"There is no more, Master," Kreacher said, coming to his side and wiping his mouth with the bottom of his tattered cloth.

He took a few shuddering breaths as he pushed himself off the ground, forgetting how he had fallen in the first place. He grabbed onto the edge of the stone basin in the centre of the rock formation, and pulled himself up by his arms until he stared down into its depth.

There it was, the object that had caused him so much pain, glinting back up at him.

"Here," he said gruffly, handing the locket to his house-elf, his friend. "Get out of here and destroy it, Kreacher."

The house-elf hesitated a moment, eyeing the artefact warily. Even it could feel a presence within the trinket. "Master, I cannot-"

"That's an order, Kreacher," he said, summoning what little strength he had left. "Destroy it by whatever means necessary."

The elf nodded, taking the locket and disappearing with a loud pop which echoed within the cavern, covering the sound of his collapse back onto the stone.

Now that he was alone, completely alone, an eerie silence came to envelope him in its chilling embrace. He shuddered from some after-effects of the potion and looked out onto the water, realizing just how thirsty he was.

He pulled himself to the edge of the island and stared at his reflection. One drink couldn't hurt.

However, as he dipped his hand into the cool water, he instantly realized his mistake. A cold dead hand latched onto his wrist, pulling him in with unbelievable strength.

He fought against his undead attacker, struggling with his arms and legs as more and more came to hold him down. His chest burned as his oxygen began to run out, the water's surface getting further and further away as they pulled him down.

With his last moment of consciousness, he remembered why he had done this in the first place and a small smile crossed his features. He had done it. He had gone against the Dark Lord and had done what he could to return the world to some kind of humanity. If this was his fate, so be it.