History of Magic, task 1: Write about a curse placed on a person or family

Word Count: 1550

"Have you heard?" Rodolphus' dark eyes twinkle with excitement, and Rabastan knows that something scandalous must have happened. Sometimes his brother is worse than a teenage girl, always hungry for the latest gossip.

"Heard what?" Rabastan asks, not bothering to look up from his plate of toast and eggs.

He doesn't care much for the news of who did what with whom, and all the other little details that Rodolphus seems to live for. Rabastan is perfectly happy to keep to himself. Still, he always lets his brother tell him everything. It makes Rodolphus happy.

"We have a traitor among us," Rodolphus tells him, taking a seat.

That's enough to get Rabastan's attention. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Rodolphus confirms. "He was caught in a cave. I dunno what he was doing, but Bella says the Dark Lord was livid."

Rabastan swallows dryly. He doesn't have to ask because he already knows. How many nights had Regulus sat up with him, smoking cigarette after cigarette and telling him how it isn't right, how maybe they've backed the wrong horse? Still, Rabastan hadn't thought anything would come of it.

"Regulus fucking Black," Rodolphus says, shaking his head, his mess of dark hair falling in his eyes. "Can you believe it? A Black! Bella's own cousin!"

"What…" Rabastan clears his throat. "What's going to happen to him? Is he…?"

He can't bring himself to say it. Rabastan knows exactly what happens to those who fail the Dark Lord. There is never any mercy, only swift justice. Everyone knows that justice comes in the form of a burst of green light.

"Nah," Rodolphus answers. "Our master placed a curse on him."

"What sort of a curse?"

"I think it's sort of a favor to Reg's parents." Rodolphus shrugs. "Apparently they've been really loyal to the Dark Lord since Hogwarts."

Rabastan doesn't quite believe that. The Dark Lord values loyalty, but he doesn't exactly reward it. The only reward for remaining faithful to him is being allowed to live. Rabastan thinks there must be something else at play here.

"It's some sort of sleeping curse," Rodolphus says. "I've never seen anything like it. All I know is it was a curse, not a potion."

…

Rabastan searches and searches, but he doesn't find any mentions of a sleeping curse. He wants to believe that Rodolphus has misunderstood, that it's a potion that has an antidote, that there is hope.

But he knows what's more likely. There isn't a mention of such a curse because it's new. The Dark Lord is powerful enough to create something so devastating.

There is no way to fix it. He's perused countless books, reading for so long that his eyes would ache, and the printed words would blur into nonsensical black smudges.

But maybe that isn't true. Maybe there is a way to change things. His lips quirk, and he shakes his head. He must be completely mad for even thinking of it.

…

He isn't supposed to be there. If the Dark Lord finds out…

Rabastan forces himself not to think about it. The Dark Lord won't find out. He has been careful in his planning, and everything will be okay.

With a trembling hand, he pushes open the door. Rabastan wonders if the reason there's no protective magic is because he doubts anyone would be stupid enough to defy him so soon after punishing Regulus. He glances over his shoulder. The corridor is still empty; no one will come this way for at least another half hour. Satisfied, he steps inside.

Regulus looks so peaceful, except for the chains that bind him to the bed. There are silver cuffs around his neck, wrists, and ankles, and they radiate a dark magic. Rabastan doesn't know what would happen if he touched them, and he doesn't want to find out.

"You idiot," he says, stepping closer. "You bloody idiot."

Regulus doesn't respond. He doesn't even flinch when Rabastan raises his voice. If not for the steady rise and fall of Regulus' chest, Rabastan might mistake his lover for a corpse.

"You should have just stayed put," Rabastan says, sighing heavily. "Didn't I tell you not to go messing around with anything? And what did you do?"

Regulus doesn't answer. He doesn't know that Rabastan is there at all.

It would be best to just move along and keep his head down. Rabastan doesn't want to end up like Regulus. If he goes with the flow, he will be okay.

Except he knows he can't do that. Perhaps it would have been kinder for the Dark Lord to kill Regulus for his betrayal. At least Rabastan would have some semblance of closure then. He would be able to carry on with his life, and Regulus would be a cautionary tale.

But Regulus is alive, and Rabastan isn't willing to give up hope. He can't. Regulus had believed in something enough that he had been willing to pay such a terrible price. Rabastan will have to believe too.

…

Rabastan tries not to notice that Sirius Black looks so much like Regulus. They have the same grey eyes, the same chin, the same full lips. Looking at him, so alive and well and free, makes Rabastan's chest ache.

He doesn't even care that Sirius and his friends have their wands aimed at him. Rabastan knows that the quartet could so easily curse him; he had heard stories about their time at Hogwarts, after all.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," Sirius says, his words coming out in a growl.

"Because I love your brother," Rabastan says simply. "Just as I know you still care about him. I'm here because of him."

Sirius' nostrils flare. His grip on his wand tightens a little more, the skin stretched across his knuckles turning an angry white. "My brother is a traitor."

"Yes," Rabastan agrees, and a hint of a smile tugs at his lips, "but he didn't betray you. Well, not this time, at least."

"Do we really have to listen to this?" Potter asks with an impatient huff.

Sirius waves a dismissive hand in his friend's direction. His eyes are fixed on Rabastan, his expression somewhere between curious and suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"Regulus has been disillusioned with the Dark Lord for quite some time," Rabastan explains. "I don't know what he was doing in that cave, but it must have been important. The Dark Lord found out, and he…"

Rabastan takes a deep breath. It isn't the worst possible thing. At least Regulus is still alive; at least Rabastan is reaching out for help. There is a faint glimmer of hope, and Rabastan is reaching for it.

"I've never seen a curse like this before," Rabastan whispers. "Please… I can't do this alone. Help me. Help him."

"I think we should take him to Dumbledore," Lupin says quietly. "If what he says is true, Regulus needs our help."

To his surprise, the others all nod. Rabastan lets out a heavy sigh of relief.

…

Dumbledore doesn't let him participate in the siege. Maybe Rabastan doesn't blame him. If he had to fight his brother, Rabastan can't guarantee that he would have the strength.

He's just grateful they listened to him and believed him. Dumbledore will be able to make this right. Rabastan has to believe that.

He paces anxiously, his footsteps leaving a noticeable trail in the carpeted library floor. Frank Longbottom, who had been left behind to watch after Rabastan should anything go awry, looks up from the book he's reading. "Do you have to do that? You're making me nervous."

"Like you weren't already nervous," Rabstan says dryly.

Still, he sits down. His legs bounce because he just cannot stay still for too long. Stillness means having to think and reflect, and he does not trust his mind to wander right now.

"You're not worried what will happen if they find out?" Frank asks.

Rabastan almost laughs. Of course he is worried. He doesn't want to end up like Regulus or worse, but the fact that Regulus is in that state at all is what drives him forward. "I just want Regulus to be okay," he says softly.

"That's awfully selfless for a Slytherin," Frank notes. He must see the irritation in Rabastan's expression because he quickly changes the subject and says, "You must really love him."

"I do," Rabastan confirms.

…

Everything's going to be okay.

Rabastan doesn't know how long he had waited, but he heard the noise and commotion, and he's out of the library in an instant. Sirius and his friends carefully maneuver Regulus through the hallway and into an empty room. Rabastan hurries in behind them.

Regulus is still afflicted with the curse. The chains are gone at least, though they've left angry, raised scars in their wake.

Rabastan could cry; he's so relieved. "Thank you," he says, and he repeats it over and over as he drops to his knees beside the bed and grips Regulus' hand.

They still have a long way to go, but at least there is a real chance now.

He rests his head against Regulus' hand, and he smiles. One way or another, they'll figure this out. All he has to do is trust and believe.