A/N: This is for the International Wizarding School Championship: Round Six. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did when writing it. I also hope that this gives you a new perspective on a very overlooked man.
School and Theme: Mahoutokoro and Trackleshanks Locksmiths
Year: Four
Main Prompt: [Character] Regulus Black
Support Prompt(s): [Character Type] A Turncoat
Word Count: 1,251
Disclaimer: All rights go to J.K. Rowling as she owns literally everything in here. I appreciate such a creative mind with an honest heart.
Regulus Black had always thought of himself as a believer in the Dark Lord's ways. That was why, when the opportunity had presented itself, he had eagerly taken up a post as a Death Eater. He had done it not only to uphold his family's pride, but to further shame his so-called brother.
And, when he had received the Dark Lord's mark, he had believed that there could be no greater honor than that.
But, when the Dark Lord himself had asked for the use of the Black's house-elf, he had been proven wrong.
So, quickly, he had agreed, sending Kreacher- as he was known- off with the Dark Lord in an attempt to please his master.
However, just a few hours after, Kreacher had returned to the Black's household, beaten up and bruised. The elf had collapsed out of exhaustion, startling Regulus who had been the only one present at the time. He had been completely bewildered, impatiently waiting to ask questions.
Soon enough, the stubborn thing had regained his senses, and Regulus had immediately begun demanding for answers as what had prompted the house-elf to come home in such a state. He even questioned if the Dark Lord had been pleased with his services.
But, what he'd told didn't make any sense in his mind.
The Dark Lord had taken Kreacher to a cave where he had brought along a locket, placing it in the center of the cave before setting up numerous defenses around it, using the elf to test their strength and durability. But, as each one had passed, they became increasingly painstaking to the point where Kreacher had been unsure of his survival.
Eventually, though, the torment had ended, leaving him barely able to move while the Dark Lord had laughed mercilessly at his misfortune before departing from the cave without so much as a second thought. The elf had been forced to use the last of his remaining strength to escape home.
Regulus had been stricken with horror as soon as Kreacher had finished retelling his story, not able to understand just how his master could have been that ruthless. Vividly, images of each 'defense' crossed through his mind, causing him to shudder as a shiver went up his spine every time.
Soon after, he'd dismissed Kreacher, retreating to his room and taking a seat on the edge of his bed. His gaze had drifted around the room, falling on all the newspaper clippings and pictures that laced each of the walls. Most of them were of the Death Eaters while others were of the Dark Lord himself. They were everything Regulus had ever admired.
But, the more he looked, the more he took notice of the amount of carnage almost every picture held. The burning of towns, ashes of corpses who weren't able to escape in time. A green hue in the night sky with the Dark Lord's mark glowing brightly, signifying the might of his power.
His eyes landed on one particular photo.
A mother was huddled into a corner, her eyes lifeless but her lips parted in a scream that had never been heard. Her skin was filled with ash, her clothes all tattered and he could even smell the stench of rotting flesh coming off of her.
And, in her arms was a small bundle of cloth with a newborn child whose face was perfectly still to the point that it could almost be mistaken as sleeping.
If only that were true.
The caption above the photo was simple, but it held so much meaning.
THE DEATH EATERS HAVE STRUCK AGAIN!
Something tugged at his chest as he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.
The next day came all too quickly, and Regulus had found himself back with the rest of the Death Eaters, awaiting the arrival of the Dark Lord so that their meeting could formally begin.
Yet, there had been no sense of excitement as he had waited. He didn't receive the usual bubbly, warming sensation that rose from his chest along with his pride. Instead, his stomach knotted itself in anticipation as he'd gnawed on his lower lip, forcing himself to bow as the Dark Lord passed by upon his entrance.
But, Regulus could help the glance he'd snuck as he had looked up towards the Dark Lord's face, taking in his snake-like eyes as a shudder passed through him. They were pulled into narrow slits, seething with an unspeakable hatred that was mixed with a gut-wrenching type of joy.
Soon, the week had passed by in a blur, the events too jumbled in his mind for him to even try to understand. The only thing he was sure of was that the Death Eaters intended to attack another town. This one held a much larger population than the last, according to one scout, and they believed that the puddles of so much blood would surely draw the attention of the Ministry of Magic.
The thought simply sickened him.
But, it was the reason as to why- when Regulus had returned home- he had immediately summoned Kreacher, ordering the elf to take him to the cave that the Dark Lord had hidden the locket in.
The house-elf, however, had quickly shied away from the idea, not wanting to experience such pain again. But, after persistently threatening him, Kreacher had agreed and they'd quickly left, Regulus not wanting to waste a second.
The day before, he had written a small letter that would explain everything regarding his plans. He intended to duplicate the locket and, then, destroy the original. He would place the letter inside the fake for anyone to read if they ever came looking for the real one.
Regulus knew it was risky, but, after discovering that the locket was a Horcrux giving the Dark Lord his immortality, there was no other choice.
He did not hold any significant status, anyways. He was barely an adult as it was. But, if he could just destroy one of the Horcruxes, he could turn the tide of the war and play his part. He could avenge the life of the child who had never gotten the chance to grow up.
So, when he began to be dragged under by the Inferi as Kreacher disappeared from his view with the real locket in hand, he had no regrets.
Because, he knew. He knew that this was his punishment for all of the sins he had committed over the years. This was for all the mistakes he'd made. A cleansing of all the guilt he now carried with him.
Kreacher would destroy the locket. Of that much, he was sure. And, then, he could be relieved of all the pain he had caused the people around him.
He closed his eyes.
It was now that he could realize that his brother was not a disgrace to the family name. He was the bravest among them, fighting for what was right no matter their opinions of him; consequences be damned. He truly was everything Regulus should have strived to be.
He wished his older brother could be as proud of him as he was of Sirius. He wished he had gotten a chance to tell him. To hear his voice comforting him as he had secretly wished for when they were younger.
He wanted to say sorry. Not just to him, but to everyone.
He was truly sorry.
Regulus took his last breath, succumbing to the darkness around him.