This story takes place in two timelines - the first, in regular font takes place when Rabastan is in Azkaban, and the other in italics takes place during his Hogwarts days. Enjoy!
Three days. That was the amount of time it took for Rabastan Lestrange to lose his mind within the walls of Azkaban.
After their capture, the Ministry had quickly thrown together a trial. Rabastan, along with Rodolphus, Bellatrix and Barty, were even kept in holding cells at the Ministry, rather than being sent to Azkaban to await their trial, as was the case with most offenders. It was the holiday season, and many wanted it over with quickly so they could enjoy their first post-war Christmas.
The trial turned out to be nothing more than a farce, in which Crouch took the opportunity to publicly denounce his son and sentence them all to life in prison. Not one of the defendants even had a chance to provide testimony. 'Evidence' from the Longbottoms' twisted minds was proof enough for the jury.
By the time they arrived at Azkaban, Rabastan was trembling with fear. Dementors surrounded them as they passed through the iron gates heading towards the dark, foreboding fortress.
"Be strong, Rab," his brother's voice whispered in his ear.
Rabastan had tried - really tried – to be strong and resilient, but by the third day of his captivity, he broke. The overpowering despair brought on by the Dementors got to be too much. Rabastan sobbed and screamed; he pounded the bars on his cell door, demanding to be released from this hell. More Dementors edged nearer, greedily sucking the energy out of him until he collapsed.
When he woke up, someone else was sitting in his cell, watching him.
*.*.*
"Are you okay?" Rodolphus asked, as they stood on Platform 9-3/4, surrounded by a large, loud crowd of students and their families.
Rabastan had been watching a strange scene: there was a family standing nearby them and the mother and father were hugging their children tightly; the mother even had tears in her eyes. It was a concept completely foreign to Rabastan, who hadn't even received a proper goodbye from his parents before he and his brother left their house earlier that day.
Turning away from the family, he looked at Rodolphus and nodded. "I'm fine," he said.
"Well, come on, then. Let's find you a place to sit."
"Why can't I just stay with you?" Rabastan asked, as he hurried after him.
"I told you, the Prefects have to sit up front," Rodolphus replied patiently. "But I will come join you when I'm finished."
"But what if a mudblood tries to sit with me before you get there?" Rabastan asked, his eyes widening in horror. "What do I do?"
Before his brother had a chance to answer, someone called out his name.
"Rodolphus, over here!"
Bellatrix Black, who had spent a lot of time at their house over the summer (much to Rabastan's annoyance) was leaning out of one of the compartments, waving to them. As they walked toward her, Rabastan caught sight of the gleaming Prefect badge on her chest that matched his brother's.
"My cousin is starting this year, too," Bellatrix said to Rodolphus. "I thought he and Rabastan could stick together."
Rodolphus helped Rabastan get his trunk into the compartment and then he left with Bellatrix, promising to come by later and check in.
Rabastan glanced at the dark-haired, grey-eyed boy sitting across from him. His face held an air of arrogance that didn't quite hide look of nervousness that he was clearly feeling. Feeling better that he wasn't the only one worried about starting school, Rabastan offered his hand and said,
"I'm Rabastan Lestrange."
The boy shook his hand, smiling slightly, and replied, "Regulus Black."
*.*.*
"What are you doing here?" a groggy-feeling Rabastan asked, as he slowly sat up on his filthy mattress, staring at his friend.
Regulus was sitting on the stone floor, his back against the rough, uneven stone. His pose was casual, as though it didn't bother him in the least to be in the pits of hell, surrounded by Dementors.
"Same thing you are, I guess," he replied, with a shrug.
"But you're dead," Rabastan said slowly. "Your mother's tapestry recorded your death a few months ago, even though we never found your…" He trailed off, staring at his friend. "Are you a ghost?"
"I don't think so," Regulus replied, looking at his hands. "Not transparent enough for that."
"But you're not alive?"
"No, I'm definitely dead."
"Am I dead?" Rabastan asked, trying to bring some sense into the situation.
Regulus laughed. "No, of course not."
"But then…"
"You're mad," he stated, in a practical tone of voice. "Delusional. You're seeing things that aren't really there."
"Like you?"
Regulus nodded. "Just like me."
*.*.*
"You're insane," Rabastan said, not bothering to look up from his Transfiguration revision.
"Why?" Regulus asked. "You don't think it would be fun to have a disguise?"
"Not if it went wrong and you were stuck that way forever. Besides, it's not like you get to choose your animal. What if you turned into a flobberworm and couldn't change back?"
Regulus laughed. "Good point. Perhaps we should leave the Animagi to the Transfiguration professionals. Its not like a student could figure it out anyway. It probably takes years of practice."
A shrill giggle from the other side of the common room made the boys look up from their books. Sitting near the glowing fire, a group of seventh-years were laughing, as they enjoyed their time together before graduation.
"Rodolphus has big plans this summer," Rabastan murmured quietly, as he watched his brother playfully shove his best mate, Evan, off a chair.
"You mean his and Bella's wedding?" Regulus asked, sounding uninterested. "That's been in the works for years. It's all my family talks about lately."
"No, not that," Rabastan replied. "Well, I mean, yes, of course, that is happening too. But I meant that Rod is joining… him."
"Him?" Regulus looked confused, then his eyes lit up. "You mean the Dark Lord?"
Rabastan nodded. "Rod met with him over the Easter break and the Dark Lord said he could join as soon as he finished school. Evan Rosier and George Wilkes are joining too."
"Wow," Regulus said in awe. "Bella has been talking about joining too. Of course, everyone in my family thinks that is ridiculous, and Uncle Cygnus forbade her from even considering it. But you know Bellatrix –if she really wants to do it, she will."
"My family wouldn't approve either," Rabastan said. "Once she and Rod are married, she will be expected to have children, carry on the line, and all that."
Regulus shrugged. "Like I said, Bellatrix does whatever she wants."
*.*.*
"So, I suppose this is the end of the Lestrange line?" Regulus' voice held no malice or teasing, but Rabastan bristled anyway. "I mean, you and your brother are both in prison and neither of you had children, right?"
"It's not like your family is any better off!" Rabastan retorted angrily. "You're dead and your brother is just down the hall there. The Black's will die out soon, too."
"Hmm… that's true," Regulus said, without concern. He was quiet for a moment, pondering something.
"Sirius the Death Eater… I still don't believe it."
"Nor do I," Rabastan replied. "Personally, I think he was framed. Not that I care, he can die in here for all that it matters. But I highly doubt he was ever a supporter of the Dark Lord."
"He wasn't a supporter of anything," Regulus replied bitterly. "He walked away from his duties and his family. It serves him right to be in here."
*.*.*
"I hate him!" Regulus was pacing back and forth across the floor of the drawing room in Grimmauld Place. "He just left, in the middle of the night, without so much as a 'see you later'!"
"Do you know where he went?" Rabastan asked, glancing out the window at the darkened skies, as heavy clouds slowly moved in.
"I'm sure he's at Potter's house," Regulus said, practically spitting the surname. "With a bunch of blood traitors. What kind of person gives up everything to go stay with filth like that?"
Rabastan couldn't think of anything comforting to say, so he stayed silent and let his friend rant. For the past week, Sirius' disappearance had been the talk of everyone related to the Black family.
"That's where Mother and Father went – the Potter's," Regulus continued, going over to look out the window, as a few raindrops hit the glass. "Mother wants to drag him home and beat him senseless. But Father said he's not going to force him to be here. He said that if Sirius doesn't see it as an honour to be heir of the Black family, then he doesn't deserve the title."
Suddenly, the door to the drawing room opened and Walburga Black stormed in, followed by her husband.
"Sirius has informed us that he does not wish to return home," Orion Black said, in a cold, detached voice, while looking at his youngest son. "He threw this at me."
In his hand, Orion held a large silver ring. Rabastan could make out the Black family crest intricately etched on it.
"This the ring of the family heir and it is yours now, Regulus."
As Regulus slowly took the ring from his father, Rabastan could see his friend swallowing back emotion. Behind them, Walburga turned to the old family tapestry and pointed her wand at her eldest son's name. They watched as she burnt his name off, while outside Grimmauld Place, the skies opened up.
*.*.*
Rabastan shivered as the water began to pool on part of his floor. The small cell had a tiny opening in the outer wall, which let in a bit of fresh air. In theory, it would also provide sunlight, but there weren't very many of those days. Rabastan assumed it was the presence of the Dementors on the island that caused the skies to stay overcast. Today, however, it was pouring the rain and apparently coming down at just the right angle to enter his cell, soaking everything it could reach.
Wanting to keep his mind off how miserable he felt, Rabastan tried to figure out how long he had been in prison. He had long ago stopped counting the days, when he realized that most of the time, he couldn't tell the difference between night and day. Instead, time just merged into one long, miserable stretch. It would have been quite boring, if it weren't for his company. Though, if the truth be told, Regulus wasn't always the best company to have around.
Unlike the real Regulus Black, who was almost always friendly with him, the imaginary Regulus in his cell could be quite mean-spirited at times. Even right now, Regulus was provoking Rabastan, trying to get a rise out of him.
"Remember back in fourth year when I was trying to get up the nerve to ask out Lila Flint, and then you got really drunk and ended up snogging her all night?"
Rabastan looked disdainfully over at Regulus. "And I apologized as soon as I realized what I had done. Then continued to apologize for weeks after that until you decided to forgive me."
"I hated you," Regulus agreed conversationally. "Wanted you dead and out of my life forever."
"Is there a reason that you're even bringing this up?"
Regulus shrugged. "Isn't that what Azkaban is all about? Reflecting on all your past mistakes. And you have made a lot of mistakes, Rab."
"Why are you even still here?" Rabastan asked angrily. "Can't you just leave me alone for awhile?"
"I've already told you," Regulus replied calmly. "I'm a creation of your warped mind. You're the only one who can get rid of me."
Rabastan closed his eyes tightly, willing the mock Regulus to go away, then opened them again. Regulus sat in the same place, smiling at him, and Rabastan swore loudly.
*.*.*
A string of curse words left his mouth, as the Quaffle sailed past him, just out of his reach, and going through the hoop, earning Gryffindor another point.
It was their first game of the year, and they were losing terribly. Slytherin had three new Chasers who obviously weren't ready to play. They were extremely slow and by the time they realized that Gryffindor had got the Quaffle from them, the opposing Chasers were already closing in on Rabastan, leaving him to guard three posts with no defense.
"Come on, Regulus," Rabastan thought to himself, as he braced himself for the oncoming scarlet-clad Chasers heading his way. "Catch that damn snitch and get us out of here."
That annoying Potter bloke who was friends with Regulus' brother had the Quaffle. He took aim and tossed it toward the left-hand hoop. Rabastan managed to get to it just in time, sending the red ball flying with kick, as it soared back toward the other end of the pitch.
Rabastan gave a quick sigh of relief but knew he would only get to rest for a quick moment. The Gryffindor Chasers this year were undeniably good. He watched as one of them easily took the Quaffle from a Slytherin Chaser and made their way back toward him. Unable to stop the Quaffle this time, he watched with dread as the ball sailed through a hoop.
"Prewett scores! 170-30 Gryffindor!"
A sickening cheer rang out from the Gryffindor supporters. Then a whistle sounded, and a different cheer went up from the crowd, this time from the other side of the stadium. Rabastan looked up and saw Regulus descending toward him, the golden snitch clenched in his fist.
"Black has caught the snitch, earning 150 points for Slytherin! Slytherin wins 180-170!"
*.*.*
"I must congratulate you on your recent win."
Rabastan glanced up toward his door as the sound of footsteps came into the corridor outside his cell.
"Thank you, Dawlish," a jovial voice replied. "I'm honoured to serve the Wizarding community as we rebuild what was destroyed." The footsteps stopped and then the voice continued. "So, this is the top floor, is it?"
"Yes, Minister. This is where we keep the top-security prisoners. They are never permitted outside their cells and its kept dark here, the only light they get is through the small windows in their cells."
"I see. Well, let's make this quick. I'm already feeling lightheaded."
"Sounds like there is a new Minister for Magic," Regulus commented.
"Probably," Rabastan replied. "What year is it anyway?"
"No idea," Regulus said. "You look like shit, though. Your hair is long and dirty. You have a bit of a beard now, too."
Rabastan rubbed a hand over his face, allowing the brittle whiskers to scratch his hand.
"Besides, does it matter how long you've been here?" Regulus continued. "It's not as though you are ever going to leave."
"When the Dark Lord comes back, he will free us. And reward us for our loyalty."
"You actually believe that don't you?" Regulus' voice was full of pity, as he shook his head sadly.
"Shut up!" Rabastan snapped in annoyance.
"Is that normal behaviour?" Rabastan looked over to the door and saw a plump man with greying hair was looking at him curiously. "Who is he talking to?" the man asked.
"They talk to themselves," replied the man standing beside him. "Most of them are completely out of their minds."
"Ah, of course," the first man replied, placing a bright green bowler hat on his head before walking away.
*.*.*
"So, you're leaving?" Regulus asked, as he paced back and forth across the floor of his bedroom.
Rabastan, who was perched on Regulus' bed, nodded. "It's the right thing to do. He's willing to take me on now, so what's the point of returning to school?"
Regulus stopped pacing and looked at Rabastan in astonishment. "Have you met him, then? Did he speak to you?"
Rabastan shook his head. "Not yet. This is all coming from Rodolphus. He's worked his way up pretty high now and meets with the Dark Lord regularly. When he mentioned that I wanted to join the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord told him to bring me to him as soon as I was ready."
"Which is now," Regulus said, resuming his pacing.
"Bella has been advocating for you, as well," Rabastan continued. "If you wanted to join…"
"I do," Regulus said earnestly. "I just wasn't expecting it to be this soon."
"You should finish school," Rabastan said, although secretly hoping that his friend would join him instead. "Its only one more year. Besides, you have another Quidditch cup to win."
"How will we manage that without our star Keeper?" Regulus sighed and sat down on the bed next to Rabastan. "You're right – if we are going to end up joining him in a year, why wait? I'll speak to Father tonight and see if I can leave Hogwarts. He supports the Dark Lord's aims; I don't think he will refuse."
Rabastan grinned at him. "You won't regret this, Regulus!"
*.*.*
Rabastan felt a pang of guilt as the Dementors buried another body. He didn't know who it was that had died, but it reminded him of Barty. He had watched his friend's body get covered with dirt, not too long after they were imprisoned.
"Do you know who it was?" Regulus asked, from his usual place on the floor.
Rabastan shook his head and went back to his bed. "No, I didn't see a face. Probably someone from a lower level; I don't remember the Dementors carrying anyone past here lately."
"Do you ever worry that you're next?"
"Sometimes," Rabastan replied truthfully. "And sometimes, I don't care. There are times when I hope for death, thinking it will be the only thing to get me out of this hell."
"Maybe you will be a ghost?" Regulus suggested lightly. "And forced to haunt this prison forever."
"At least I could leave this cell. Maybe go over and visit my brother. Although, by this point," Rabastan added glumly, "he could very well be one of the bodies buried outside."
*.*.*
When Rodolphus offered the opportunity for him to join the Death Eaters, Rabastan had thought it would be a matter of meeting their leader and being accepted in, while receiving the tattoo on his arm to match his brother's.
Instead, it had been weeks of intense training. He had to learn new hexes and curses and prove he could use them. His days were spent practicing duelling and deflecting spells, while nights were spent accompanying Rodolphus on his assignments. One night, he had spent twelve hours, in the pouring rain, outside an Auror's house, just to watch his movements. Then, another time, he had gone three days without sleep because they kept moving from one town to another, attempting to track down a defector. He had been hexed, cursed and almost poisoned, all in order to test his strength and resilience. Then, when Rodolphus was finally satisfied that Rabastan was ready, his brother took him to the Dark Lord.
It was arranged so that Rabastan and Regulus would join together (Regulus having gone through the same vigorous training, but with Bellatrix as his mentor). The two of them stood in the room, with Rod and Bella nearby, waiting for the Dark Lord to arrive. No one spoke a word and when the door finally opened, they all sank to their knees in respect.
The Dark Lord indicated for them to stand back up and Rabastan got his first look at the man he had admired for so long now. His dark hair was thinned out, his eyes were red, and his nose had an odd look to it, as though it were shrinking back into his head. But Rabastan could almost feel the magical power radiating off of him.
"I have heard of your accomplishments and desire to help the rise of the Dark Order," the Dark Lord said smoothly. "And I am told that you have proven yourselves worthy to wear my Mark and join our forces."
Rabastan nodded slightly, unable to speak.
"Rabastan, step forward and kneel before me."
Feeling flustered that the Dark Lord had called him by name, Rabastan almost tripped as he approached him. Sinking to his knees once more, Rabastan pulled back his sleeve and presented his left forearm. He watched as the Dark Lord's wand tip touched his skin. The pain started out bearable, but then it seemed to sink deeper, the dark magic flowing through his entire body. He grimaced and whimpered slightly as he tried to supress a scream.
*.*.*
Rabastan woke up suddenly, clutching his arm, as beads of sweat rolled down his face. His heart was pounding rapidly in his chest, and he was trembling.
"Bad dream?" Regulus asked.
"No… at least, I don't think so," Rabastan said, trying to clear his head. "My arm hurts, though."
Down the corridor, there were shouts and screams from other prisoners. A woman's voice, which sounded vaguely familiar, was laughing. How is that possible, Rabastan wondered, no one laughs in Azkaban.
"HE'S BACK!" screamed the woman. "I TOLD YOU HE WOULD COME BACK!"
Two or three more voices joined hers, cheering.
Rabastan felt the Dementors before he saw them. Glancing up, he watched as a dozen black cloaks glided past his cell, towards the noise, ready to remove any sense of happiness these prisoners seemed to be enjoying. And soon – too soon – it was quiet again.
Trying to concentrate on what just happened, something dawned on Rabastan. He pulled back his sleeve and gasped. There, on his arm, was the Dark Mark. The beautiful symbol that had been placed there so many years ago. It had disappeared with the Dark Lord and now it was back. Did that mean he was back as well?
"We're getting out of here," Rabastan whispered, staring at his arm.
"You're probably imagining all this, you know," Regulus commented, unhelpfully. "You do have a tendency to hallucinate and see things that aren't really there. Like me, for instance."
"Shut it," Rabastan said, though his voice had no hostility to it. He was still admiring the brand on his arm.
*.*.*
Rabastan pulled off his robes, being mindful not to touch the Dark Mark on his arm, lest he risk summoning the Dark Lord accidently. He then collapsed on his bed, ready to fall asleep. Outside, the sun was almost up, but he ensured the heavy curtains were closed, leaving his room dark. Rabastan had been out all night, helping to fight against Dumbledore's Order, and he was exhausted.
He was almost asleep when a knock on the door brought him back to consciousness.
"Go away," he muttered.
"It's me," said a familiar voice. "Regulus."
"Come in, then," Rabastan said with a yawn, not bothering to move from his position on the bed. He watched as Regulus cautiously entered the room, then turned and locked the door and muttered a spell.
"What are you doing?"
"Making the door imperturbable, so we won't be overheard." Regulus walked over to him and folded his arms across his chest. "Can you at least sit up? This is important."
Rabastan groaned and sat up. As he fully opened his eyes, he took in his friend's appearance. Regulus' face was paler than usual, his eyes were bloodshot with bags under them. He looked worse than Rabastan felt and he wondered when Regulus had last slept.
"Remember a few weeks ago when I volunteered Kreacher to help the Dark Lord?"
Rabastan looked at him in confusion.
"My family house elf!" Regulus said exasperatedly.
"Oh, right, sorry. Yes, I remember that. Did he use him?"
"Yes," he replied with bitterness in his tone. "Then, he poisoned him and left him to die."
"Why?"
"I'm still working that one out," Regulus said. "But before Kreacher went to him, I told Kreacher to come home, and he did."
Rabastan finally caught on to what was bothering Regulus.
"So, the Dark Lord thinks your elf is dead, but he's actually alive? He will probably never even notice, though it might just be easier to finish him off, and then you don't have to worry about it."
Regulus was giving him an icy glare. "I'm not going to kill my house elf, Rabastan."
"Why not? You lot hang their heads up, don't you? Some kind of weird decoration? Besides, you can always get another one." Rabastan rolled his eyes as Regulus continued to glare at him. "Or don't. Like I said, the Dark Lord will never even know he's alive. They all pretty much look the same."
Regulus took a deep breath, as though trying to steady himself. "Look, Rab. My problem here is what the Dark Lord had Kreacher do, and how he was willing to just toss him aside when he was done with him."
"It's a damn elf, Regulus," Rabastan said, irritably. "Who cares?"
"I do! Look, I've been doing some research, based on what Kreacher told me, and I think the Dark Lord made a –"
"Stop," Rabastan said harshly, cutting him off, as he got to his feet. "Whatever the Dark Lord had your elf do, was meant to be kept quiet. You weren't meant to know about it, and I'm certainly not meant to know about it. So, hold your tongue."
They stood glaring at one another for a moment, then Rabastan finally said, "What is wrong with you, Regulus? Since when do you question anything the Dark Lord says or does?"
"Things are just different than I imagined," Regulus replied slowly. "The Dark Lord isn't who I expected him to be…"
"Because he tried to kill your elf," Rabastan muttered, rubbing a hand across his tired face. "You need to get these thoughts out of your head before you're killed for treason. He can see into your mind, you know."
Regulus sighed slightly, as though he had suffered a huge disappointment. When he spoke again, any sign of hostility was gone from his voice.
"I'm sorry I bothered you, Rab. You should get some sleep."
"You're not bothering me," Rabastan said, "but now, I'm a bit worried about you."
Regulus gave him a small smile. "I'm fine. I know what I need to do."
"You need to go home and get some rest, Regulus."
His friend nodded and started towards the door, before turning around again.
"Look, what I said… can we keep that between us?"
"Yeah, of course," Rabastan assured him. "I won't say a word to anyone."
"Thank you," Regulus replied, turning toward the door. "Goodbye Rabastan."
*.*.*
"Why did you leave?" Rabastan asked.
"You know why," Regulus replied.
"No, not really. You were acting strange… mentioned something about the Dark Lord poisoning your elf and, next thing I know, you're gone, and no one can find you."
"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" he asked. "About Kreacher?"
"No, I told you I wouldn't. Although, if I had have known you were going to desert me…"
"I did what I had to do," Regulus replied quietly.
"And are you going to tell me exactly what it was that you had to do?" Rabastan asked irritably.
Regulus considered him for a moment then shook his head. "No, I don't think I am."
*.*.*
"Please tell me something good," Rabastan said, as he sank into a chair in front of the large desk in his brother's study.
"Sorry, Rab, nothing yet," Rodolphus said. "Bellatrix has been searching non-stop, but to no avail. He hasn't had any jobs from the Dark Lord lately, so no one else remembers seeing him. The only thing left to do is ask the Dark Lord to track him down. He can track anyone with a Mark."
"Please, not yet," pleaded Rabastan. He knew what would happen if the Dark Lord suspected Regulus of deserting the Death Eaters. There had to be another explanation for his friend's absence.
"Tell me again, when you last saw him," Rodolphus said.
"Two weeks ago. He stopped by for a bit and then said he was going home."
"Why did he stop by?"
Rabastan hesitated. He considered telling his brother about the elf that the Dark Lord had borrowed and Regulus' anger at how it was treated. But he promised Regulus he wouldn't say anything, and he didn't really think Regulus would run away because of something as trivial as 'house elf mistreatment'.
"He just wanted to check in," Rabastan finally said. "We hadn't seen much of each other lately."
Suddenly, the office door burst open, and Bellatrix stormed into the room. She looked livid, though there were tears were streaming down her cheeks.
"Dead!" she exclaimed. "Regulus is dead!"
Rabastan felt his entire body go numb.
"No," he whispered, looking at Bellatrix beseechingly.
"Where did you find him?" Rodolphus asked, as he poured a strong drink for his wife to calm her down.
"I didn't," she replied gruffly, falling into the chair next to Rabastan and accepting the glass from Rodolphus. "Aunt Walburga's tapestry records the dates when family members die. We just noticed it, I'm not sure how long it's been there."
Rabastan stood up, feeling confused. He had known this would be the possible outcome of his friend's disappearance, and yet he wasn't really prepared for it.
"I need to see Madam Black," he whispered. "I need to…"
"I think you need to go lay down, Rab," Rodolphus said in a stern, but not unkind voice. Rabastan knew his brother was no stranger to losing friends; two of his long-time mates had been killed by Aurors in the past year. "Get some rest, while Bella and I figure out where to go from here. Later on, we can go together to see Madam Black and offer our condol—"
Rodolphus broke off and Rabastan knew why. He could tell from the way Bellatrix stiffened in her chair that she had felt it too. It seemed that rest and mourning would have to wait; their master was calling them.
*.*.*
"It's burning again," Regulus said unnecessarily. "The Dark Lord calling his Death Eaters to him. Too bad you can't go."
Rabastan sighed but had no reply – Regulus was right. The Mark seemed to burn a lot lately, but he was still in prison. Perhaps the Dark Lord had forgot about them after all. Was he really doomed to live out his life behind these bars?
"Do you still think he will come for you?" Regulus asked.
"Yes, I have faith in him," Rabastan replied automatically, though he wasn't sure if he believed the words anymore.
"Sure, you do, Rab," Regulus replied skeptically.
As the burning in his arm subsided, Rabastan laid down on his thin, soiled mattress. He wasn't really tired. In truth, he wasn't anything anymore. He had long ago stopped feeling any type of strong emotion. But he closed his eyes and fell asleep, praying that this time, death would take him out of his misery.
When Rabastan awoke a few hours later, he felt strange. His head was clearer than it had felt in a long time. He looked over at Regulus, but his friend was gone.
Is this what death felt like, he wondered. Did he die in his sleep, like he had hoped? If so, he felt cheated, because he was still locked in a cell. He tentatively put his hand to the wall, wondering if he could go through it, like a ghost, but the wall remained solid and unmovable.
Getting to his feet, Rabastan walked over to his door and looked out into the corridor. Usually there were Dementors nearby, but now he didn't see a single one. Down the hallway, he heard shouts of confusion from the other prisoners, some of whom sounded as though they were just waking up. Others started banging on their bars, as though they were trying to push their way out of their cells.
Feeling confused and disoriented, Rabastan looked around again for Regulus. He then felt foolish; of course, Regulus wasn't there – he had died a long time ago.
Deciding to test the Dementors, Rabastan reached to the back in his mind, and brought up a memory that he had buried deep over the years. The first one that came to him was from when he was nine years old. It was his birthday and Rodolphus had bought him his first real broomstick. Together, the brothers took off flying, soaring through the skies while Rodolphus helped him refine his technique. He smiled, remembering the day well.
And yet, the Dementors still didn't come for him. Where were they?
A door at the end of the corridor burst open and Rabastan felt a sense of dread that they weren't gone after all. But then, he noticed the figures coming through the door weren't Dementors, even though they wore black, hooded cloaks. They were Death Eaters, and he was finally going to be free.
