"Five to one, baby, one in five….No one here gets out alive"—The Doors, "Five to One"
Regulus Black heard the sharp crack of someone Apparating nearby, and knew his life was over. He should have given up back in the pub, when the owl had caught up with him. When the grey bird had dropped the scroll on the table where he was staring into his ale, he had grabbed the parchment and left before the staring Muggles could take any action. The owl had not waited for a reply, and did not appear to be following him as he tried drunkenly to find his way back to his Muggle hotel.
The note was unsigned, and he did not recognize the handwriting. The message was simple: "Return, or be branded a traitor." So nice and unexpected, that one last chance.
He was not sure whether it was resignation, courage, fear, or guilt that led him to not take it. To hell with them all. They had all lied to him, even his parents, although he tried to tell himself there was no way they could have know what "purification" really meant. He tried not to think about his parents anymore. They would never see him again.
He never did find his way back to the hotel, and the Death Eaters had found him within hours anyway.
"Not much of a reprieve, was it?" he said out loud.
There was no answer from the masked and cloaked figures now circled around him in this deserted, crumbling flat. Locks were no trouble while he still had his wand, and he had felt the need to lie down, somewhere away from the pitying or amused stares of the sober Muggles. He had always known they far outnumbered wizardkind, but every time he ventured into the Muggle world he was shaken anew. It had once given credence to the words of his parents, to the words of those who spoke of a true wizard culture, the followers of the so-called Dark Lord. He had regarded those who championed the Muggles and Muggleborn with contempt. Are they blind? There's no way these beasts can coexist with us.
Somehow the thought had suffered a change. Are they blind? There's no way in hell we could rule these … people. We can't even rule our own. And they want me to…
Kill his own kind.
The abandoned building had seemed safe enough. It was ugly and decaying, like the rest of the Muggle world, and it had fit his mood. Muggles were passing by mere feet away, even as Regulus stared at the assembled Death Eaters. Regulus' throat went dry. There must be at least six of them. He was finding it hard to keep them in focus.
"Expelliarmus!"
Really, Regulus had had no intention of trying to use his wand, but now that the option was gone it somehow made everything easier.
"Do you, Regulus Black, deny that you have disobeyed the orders of the Dark Lord? Do you deny that you have attempted to contact a representative of the Ministry of Magic to offer information about the operations of the Death Eaters, a betrayal of your Dark family and therefore of the Dark Lord himself?"
Regulus did not recognize the voice, although he recognized the hate and contempt that filled it. He tried to find his own voice, speak one of the essays he had mentally prepared for a moment like this one, about how the ends sometimes failed to justify the means, the questionable wisdom of destroying their current society in order to build a better one for the future, the folly of blind faith in self-serving leadership, and the conclusion that change was inevitable and mere reactionary violence misguided. Instead he heard himself croak, "I… can … explain… ."
"Why did you not return when summoned?"
"My contact … they know… I was trying to find out… not give them… I can tell you…."
"Nothing we don't already know," said a drawling voice to his left. Regulus knew this one. Malfoy always sounded bored. "Sorry to say, Fenwick is already dead. As you should be. Do let's get on with it."
The Death Eater who had spoken first made no acknowledgement of Malfoy, but continued, "You, Regulus Black, are a Blood Traitor guilty of betraying both your fellow Death Eaters and the Wizarding race. The sentence is death."
There was silence. They seemed to be waiting for Regulus to say something.
"… As long as it's not my cousin." Bellatrix would almost certainly torture him first. Regulus wondered if Crouch were here. He doubted it. He could imagine what Crouch would say to him.
A Death Eater who had not spoken yet moved forward.
"There was another volunteer," Malfoy said calmly. Malfoy turned to the other Death Eater. "You may proceed with the execution when you are ready."
After a few lingering seconds, the chosen wizard pulled out his wand gracefully. It was said that when one was preparing to throw the death curse, the currents of power were nearly visible. It was true. Regulus wished he had never found that truth, not now, not ever.
"Avada…"
The voice had all the necessary power in it, although it was so low it was nearly a whisper. Black recognized that voice. Like his brother Sirius, he would have recognized it anywhere.
Damn you Sirius, it should be you being murdered here instead of me, was Regulus Black's last full thought.
"… Kedavra."