I do not own Harry Potter.
The other students in my History of Magic class-- none being Slytherin-- regarded me as a sort a fanatic, unaware that I was at the calmer side of the pool. I pointed out bits of propaganda in our text, things subtly placed by Dumbledore-like types, underhandedly planting opinions in a certain direction by the description of historical events. The Wizard-Muggle clashes of the Middle Ages were regarded as "excessively brutal"-- when I knew, as my ancestors led them-- and various periods of time in which the Ministers were pro-pure were considered "tyrants" and "dictators"-- one of which was my own Vega Black. I, of course, took it upon myself to rectify this by proclaiming my views very loudly to the very small class. Professor Binns, being dead, felt no reason to stop me.
Father, still in his habit of reading every Daily Prophet cover to cover, found my editorials and often chided me to be careful and less radical. Bellatrix, on the other hand, sent me letters encouraging more action. "You say you prefer straight cold death to torture or humiliation," she wrote. She had twisted my words slightly, but I acquiesced. "Perhaps it is time you took the action you seek. You have never felt the true power of holding a single life in your hands. You have never killed. Perhaps it is time."
I was given my first lethal mission only as a result of a very controversial move by the Dark Lord.
"Death Eaters; we have our first spy for the Order. Meet newly converted Order member Peter Pettigrew."
The cloaked figure before us stepped aside, cape swishing, to reveal a fat, badly-shaved, balding man with a beer gut and a very sleazy grin-- yet he was unmistakable as the friend Sirius had brought to our house, the fat, sniggering boy who had set doxies on me.
"He has given us information on the locations of several of the most protected Order members. Our first order of business shall be the Prewetts. Twin brothers Gideon and Fabian were notorious Aurors. They had killed the first of our number, Wilkes, just a month ago. However, he was our first; of the Order, their number was diminished by at least a third. "We shall have revenge for our dearly departed Wilkes, have no fear," the Dark Lord laughed.
There was a murmur of assent from our number. Yet, when out of reach of his hearing, away from the circle and unmasked, feeling so much safer out of the actual meeting-- though I was still wary-- I told my fears to Bellatrix.
"I don't trust him," I said shortly.
"Of course you don't trust him. I don't trust him, either. I don't trust anyone," she rolled her eyes. "Slytherins don't trust people."
Yet that wasn't true. I had trusted everyone else I had ever met.
The mission was assigned to Bellatrix, Evan Rosier, Jugson, Antonin Dolohov, and myself. I was surprised that I was to be working with such powerful companions, when I was usually lower down on the scale. Apparently Bellatrix had worked her wiles; her dear baby cousin needed a chance to show his skills.
Antonin Dolohov, yet another recruit from Transylvania, was particularly fond of Bellatrix. He kissed her hand and told her to leave the dirty killing to the men. She gave him a venomous, warding smile, and said, "You're right, Antonin. I'll keep with the torture. Unless of course you need my help," she raised her eyebrows, challenging him. It was as if she wasn't even married.
Barty certainly had something to say about it. "I'm older than him, and I haven't gotten a chance to murder yet!" he whined.
"This is supposed to be dangerous," I told him. "The Prewetts are more protected than the average civilian. You'll get to do one of those. The Order's bound to show up at this. Can you imagine what would happen if YOU were caught? Your dad would KILL you."
Barty narrowed his eyes. "Not if I got there first."
I sighed, "Then kill him in his sleep and get it over with." Then I Apparated away.
The squadron of five of us arrived outside the residence of the Prewetts', which was more protected than the Bones', though the two of them were young and single, living only together. We separated again, moving in from different angles. Five against two was bound to be enough, but we couldn't be sure how many more would arrive to help. The Order was beginning to get the hang of communications.
I crept in through yet another window, hiding my tracks again. It was becoming easier and easier to do. This time, I was going to prove myself entirely to the Dark Lord. I had written advocatively and proclaimed publicly my views. I had fought and tortured. Now, I was going to kill.
The fight was already beginning when I came into the nearest bedroom. I did not know if this was Gideon or Fabian, but Antonin had him cornered, blocking hexes and throwing them back at him at lightning speed. I had to hand it to the Prewett brothers; they were well-trained.
I heard a shout behind me, and the other brother, just as tall, with the same red hair, came charging in. I ducked out of the way; Bellatrix and Evan were following him. Bellatrix had the strangest look about her-- it was a glow, a fanatical gleam that lit up her eyes and sent a terrible smile across her face. She reeked of energy, and I heard her laugh with a violent passion I had only known echoes of in the days she used to fight with Sirius. It was both moving and terrible.
She hit the second brother in the back with the Cruciatus, laughing as the pain went into him. She was that powerful. The man lied screaming on the floor for several minutes until my cousin relented. I felt my breath stop in my chest for a moment, but then recovered, remembering my duty. There were two men to be dealt with.
As Antonin and Jugson duelled the first brother together, Evan did just as Antonin had promised Bella. As the brother lay on the ground, he leapt towards him, wand raised, knocking me aside against a bureau as if I wasn't even there, and shot out a hex.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!!!" he roared. There was the light, and Bellatrix's laughter, and the fervent panting of the other three, still duelling.
As they all died away, the first brother saw. "NO!!! GIDDY!!!"
He shot out a violent hex that sent Jugson sprawling, and came charging right past Antonin to his brother's side. He took one look down at his fallen brother, then looked up, eyes terrible and intense, raised his wand, and started to speak the words that he had been given the right to as an Auror.
His wand was pointed at Bellatrix.
"AVA--"
"AVADA KEDAVRA!!!" I shrieked, finishing first, leaping into his path and pointing my wand right at his face. He wasn't going to kill Bellatrix. She was my cousin, my family . . . I would die before she did.
I felt suddenly a great weight as if on the end of my wand. The first brother-- Fabian, I took it-- opened his grey eyes into mine, stunned. For a split second that seemed to go on forever, I held that weight-- his very life-- feeling as if it were going to pull me down. Killing took so much strength-- but he had to die. He had to die, or me, Bellatrix, all of us.
He fell forward in a green flash. I collapsed to my knees, sweating and shaking. Bellatrix shrieked with laughter from behind me, unfazed.
We were done-- but then suddenly . . .
"APPREHEND THEM!!!"
From all around us appeared a circle of wizards-- Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Frank Longbottom, even James Potter-- and they charged. I saw Jugson yank his hood upward to hide himself-- it had fallen in the scuffle-- and begin to duel with Longbottom. Dolohov rushed straight to Shacklebolt.
"YOU'RE GOING DOWN FOR ONCE, BOYS!!!" Moody cried, taking on Evan. Evan pointed his wand straight at Moody's nose, tearing out a great hunk of it. Moody clapped his hand to his already-pockmarked face, where now there was flowing blood. "Shan't go down easily, eh?" Another curse erupted, this time from Moody's wand. Evan fell to the ground with a gasp. I did not see the green light, but when he lay beside Fabian, I knew he was in just the same condition.
My mask, too, had fallen, and I was too weak to pull it up. On my knees still, I saw Potter meet eyes with Bellatrix. He dashed for her, but she was too fast. I felt her cloak fly over me and one hand seize my shoulder, and then there was a pulling sensation as we Apparated.
We landed on the floor of my bedroom in 12 Grimmauld Place. Bellatrix pulled her cloak off of my head and fell back on the bed, laughing like a giddy-- and quite sadistic-- schoolgirl.
"Wasn't that beautiful, Regulus? You took him down, all by yourself! We did, of course, weaken him a little, but . . . " her intense eyes, still glowing with the strength to burn, bored into mine. "How did it feel?" she whispered almost sensually.
"I felt his life in my hands," I gasped. "Did Rosier go down, too?"
Bellatrix sighed, but shrugged. "Yes, but one for two isn't so bad-- these days. Yet if our weakest member," she grinned, which I took as apology, "can kill so easily . . . oh how we carry the advantage."
"What about Barty?" I asked.
"Bartemius is like Rodolphus and I," she said. "We enjoy pain. The pure, clear, terror of it. The screams, the contortions. Unnecessarily brutal, you might say. But it's my kick. Everyone is different. Mulciber, for instance, enjoys control. He likes the feel of holding one's will in his hands. You . . . you say you enjoyed holding the actual life?" I hadn't said I had enjoyed it, but she beamed, and I couldn't argue. "You like killing. That is the strongest power of all. I thought you would be weak, like Lucius, and only like talk, the weakest . . . but it turns out I was wrong. Congratulations, Regulus. You are one of the elite now."