Disclaimer- I own nothing that you may recognize. All the wonderful creations belong to the great J.K. Rowling.
Summary- Not even twenty years old, Regulus Black is murdered on Voldemort's orders. What did the Dark Lord tell him to do that made the younger Black want to leave the Death Eaters and in the end, cost him his life?
A Lifetime of Service or DeathRegulus watched the barman set down his smoking fire whiskey warily. He paid the man his sickles, quickly averting his eyes away from the old man's face. He felt a chill run down his spine. That old barman gave him the creeps; what was worse was that he resembled a very unkempt Dumbledore in an odd sort of way.
Regulus scanned around the dingy bar before grabbing the smoking goblet and raising it up to his lips. A veiled witch sat in one of the shadowy corners facing his direction but whether she was paying attention to him or not he could not tell and he did not really care. Two shriveled, ancient hags sat at a grubby little table, staring lustfully at him from behind their molding balaclavas. He quickly faced forward towards the bar again, feeling their prickly stares on the back of his neck.
He quickly downed the goblet and set it down with a thunk! Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and he quickly ordered for another. The barman glowered at him but poured him another and Regulus paid him again.
Just as he grabbed the goblet with his left hand, a horrible burning sensation shot up his left arm and he gasped, dropping the goblet to the floor with a muffled clatter. He clutched at the sore spot on his forearm where the Dark Mark currently burned.
He vaguely became aware that the whole bar was staring at him, and the veiled witch leaned forward out of the shadows. He quickly tried to cover up his grimace of pain and force it into a glare. He fixed it on the barman.
"What are you playing at?" he hissed at the old man. "Giving me a goblet as hot as that! Make sure it can be handled without the use of dragonhide gloves next time, I nearly burned my hand off!"
The barman's eyes narrowed. "Watch it Black," he said in a low, gruff voice and his eyes flickered to the arm that Regulus was clutching. "It seems to me," he said even lower so that only he could hear, even if the entire bar was straining their hardest to, "that it's not your hand that burns."
Regulus paled, his fair skin now an ashen color. He quickly tried to muster his expression into one of curiosity. "Oh? And how, pray tell, do you know my surname, old man?"
"Your brother drops by here every so often. You look like him," the barman said simply cleaning a dirty glass with an equally filthy rag.
Regulus clenched his teeth. For all of his life he had always been compared to his older brother, Sirius Black. He still was, except now, however, he was the on in their favor; to most of the pureblood manic public anyways.
Just like Sirius. Doesn't care what the place looks or smells like, s'long as he can get attention or leave with a bang. Fool.
He stood abruptly and had everybody in the vicinity but the barman jump. Clutching his forearm and without saying a word, he left the bar in a great rush. He was already running late and the Dark Lord did not like to wait.
Apparating the moment he stepped foot outside of the Hog's Head, Regulus found himself in his own flat. He immediately summoned his midnight colored Death Eater's robes and mask, quickly changing out of his casual black robes. Then, without a second thought, he disapparated.
He arrived at the Dark Lord's lair, panting and shivering. His breaths came in vapor, and he hurried through the crowd of Death Eaters and to the center of the circle where Lord Voldemort was.
He dropped to his hands and knees immediately when he saw him and crawled forward, kissing the hem of the lord's robes, murmuring, "My lord."
Voldemort hissed, his scarlet eyes narrowing dangerously and his snake-like nostrils flaring. "Why are you late, Regulus?"
Regulus gulped, and he was appalled at how much his voice and body trembled. "Forgive me, my lord, but I was held up."
"Never again, Regulus," the Dark Lord hissed, and he raised his wand and pointed it at him. "Crucio."
Regulus writhed and screamed, feeling as if hot knives were stabbing him all over his body and when the torture finally stopped he lay in a heap on the floor, panting and with sweat pouring down his face.
"Get to your place," Voldemort demanded and Regulus scrambled to do as he was told, taking his place besides Avery and Jugson.
Voldemort looked around lazily at them all for a moment; some he looked at longer than others. Then at last, when no one could stand any more of the tense and unbearable silence, he spoke.
"Alastor Moody. He will not leave this world easily. He's too paranoid, too vigilant. His place is swarming with charms and booby-traps. We'll wait awhile until we kill him." He said coolly and quietly, but it was so silent around them that nobody had to strain very much to hear. "Enchanted dustbins," he added in a murmur, and all of his supporters stirred and looked at each other in confusion.
"Black and Potter are rising rapidly in the Auror ranks. They, like Moody, are in Dumbledore's damn Order. I want them gone before this war ends." He said softly, and his blood red eyes flickered to where Regulus stood stiffly for a moment.
"Dorcas Meadowes I will kill personally. No one will need to bother with her; I will handle it. Benjy Fenwick-"
One of the Death Eaters made as if to take a step forward, but thought better of it. Voldemort stared at his servant before his thin, colorless lips twisted into a cold, cruel smile.
"Yes, Bella?" he asked. Bellatrix Lestrange hesitated a moment before she took a step forward, fell to her knees and kissed the hem of his robes.
"My Lord," she murmured. "If I may ask of something…. Rodolphus and I will kill Fenwick. That nasty little Ravenclaw gave us trouble during Hogwarts…we would like revenge, my lord. Would you give us permission?"
She remained on her hands and knees with her head bowed. Voldemort stared at her before his eyes flickered to her husband, whom had also dropped to his knees.
"Permission granted," he hissed softly.
"Thank you, my lord," they murmured simultaneously before kissing his robes once more and returning to their spot, never once turning their backs on him.
"Lupin we can try to persuade to join us, though I do not think it will work. He is not fool enough to believe that I have the cure to lyncanthropy; there is none." The Dark Lord continued as if he was not interrupted at all. "It might even be futile to… Pettigrew, however. Yes, Pettigrew will join us. He does not have a strong will, and his three little friends can no longer protect him from school bullies. He will follow someone bigger, better…me."
His eyes rested on two Death Eaters. "Nott, Rabastan, you will offer him a proposition. When he agrees, bring him to me." They bowed and murmured to him.
"The Prewitts. We'll need to send quite a few of you to kill them. Gideon and Fabian are very talented. It will be a challenge to be rid of them, but in the end they always die."
Voldemort whirled around and spoke to a Death Eater. "Dolohov, you will be in charge of the attack on the Prewitts. Take as many Death Eaters that we can spare. I want the job done right, Antonin."
"The Longbottoms and Potters we'll most certainly kill, with that damn prophecy," he hissed like a cat, but the last part was so quiet that nobody understood what he had said.
"Bella, Rodolphus, give it two weeks before you kill Fenwick. Be sure to be creative when you do."
Bella's dark eyes gleamed behind her mask. "I assure you my lord, there will not be a recognizable piece of Fenwick left when we are through with him."
Voldemort's lips peeled back in a sneer.
"Regulus," Voldemort turned to him, and Regulus felt himself stiffen in fear. Don't ask me to kill anybody! I've never had to kill anybody before! He thought desperately, although he kept his face calm behind his mask. "Regulus, you have the honors of offing your dear blood-traitor brother. You must do it when he's sleeping of course, you would never be able to take him on when he's alert. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my Lord," Regulus murmured regretfully, but he kept as much emotion out of his tone as he could.
"You are dismissed," Voldemort said his final words for that night. All of his servants crawled on their hands and knees to him like beggars, kissing the hem of his black robes once again as they would a king's.
Regulus tossed and turned in his bed that night, thinking of what he had to do. The Imperius and Cruciatus Curse he could handle, but Avada Kedavra? He could not kill anybody. He had not the will or the strength to do it. Regulus had always secretly despised it when his fellow Death Eaters tortured innocent people. He had seen Travers torture countless Muggles, and for that he had enough to stomach, but pureblooded wizards?
I'm going to back out before I'm forced to kill my own brother. Blood-traitor he may be, but he is a pureblood and the name Black must be passed down. We are the only two who can keep the line of Black alive. But I don't see any of us producing any heirs soon. He thought. And let's face it; he would be the first to make one. The females have always flocked to him rather than me, if they ever bothered to notice me at all over my brother. No, I will ask Voldemort to pass the job to somebody else. I will not be the one who's at fault because our line has died. The most dishonorable thing to do after fraternizing with Mudbloods, Muggles, or halfbloods is to kill someone of your own blood.
With that uneasy thought still on his mind, Regulus finally drifted into a restless world of dreams.
Regulus sat outside the closed door of the library, listening to his parents bicker over his grades.
"Look how many 'Acceptables' he has! It's really a disgrace. How unfair is it that the blood-traitor got nearly all 'Outstandings' on his O.W.Ls while the good son does not?" his mother ranted to her husband.
His father sighed. "Regulus was never as talented as Sirius-"
"Do not utter that name!"
"Regulus was never as talented as Sirius," his father repeated firmly, "But at least his mind's set in the right direction. Honestly, Sirius's friends with a Potter! A Potter! Blood-traitors if ever they were. And Lupin's a halfblood…Just be glad Regulus is following the Black motto of 'Tourjours Pur'."
"Yes, well if his disgraceful grades don't come up soon I will have no sons at all."
His surroundings dissolved as a new environment filled its place. It was in 'The Three Broomsticks' and Regulus was staring at himself and his brother. They sat across from each other at a small, circular table, glaring daggers at each other. Everybody was minding their own business, paying no heed to the two men that looked so much alike, but were so different on the inside.
"So, you joined the Death Eaters." The older one said quietly, his muscular arms crossed against his chest.
Regulus tapped his pale fingers on the wooden table irritably. He wanted to snap at his brother, wrap his fingers around his neck and throttle him, but he had more restraint than to do that. Instead, his brow furrowed.
"I don't know where you got that idea." He said tersely, his shoulders very tense.
Sirius snorted, giving his younger brother a disgusted look. "Regulus, I'm an Auror. You may be wearing masks, but I know the way you walk and I recognize your voice. I've seen Bellatrix there, and I wouldn't put it past her to join. Did she pressure you into it?"
Regulus stood abruptly. "Like you, dear brother, I am capable of making my own choices." He said coldly. "And I believe I made the right one." He turned abruptly and left.
"Then you're a bigger idiot than what I took you for," Sirius said coldly. The Regulus in his dream walked out of the 'Three Brooksticks' with only slight hesitation in his step at first, but it passed and he strode out with a much more confident walk.
The Regulus observing just noticed that Sirius had a sad look on his face as he watched his younger brother leave before it changed into a grimace of disgust.
"Fool's going to get himself killed," he muttered once more before the world around him dissolved.
Regulus woke abruptly, panting slightly. He hadn't thought about that time in the pub for a few months now. He raised a shaking hand to his forehead and pushed back his damp bangs. His breathing calmed after a moment, but his vision was blurry.
"Damn it," he muttered, wiping at his eyes furiously. He leaned forward, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes while he rested his elbows on his legs, feeling overwhelmed.
An hour later he dressed and showered, eating a quick breakfast before he left his home. He needed to persuade someone who was close to Voldemort to ask him for a meeting without the entire population of Death Eaters watching.
He arrived at their house a half an hour later. Sunlight did not seem to exist here; the gray clouds instead filled the sky, making the surroundings of the manor seem rather bleak and dull; foreboding.
He took a deep breath and knocked on the black painted front door, glancing at the silver snake-shaped handle that reminding him so much of his own home, Grimmauld Place. The door opened, and a tall man with brown hair, brown eyes, and aristocratic features opened it. He scowled and stepped back, letting Regulus in.
"Rodolphus," Regulus greeted curtly. Rodolphus gave him a sharp nod back, his eyes scowling.
Rodolphus led him into the sitting room, where his wife Bellatrix sat with her sister Narcissa.
"Narcissa," Regulus greeted immediately. The two sisters were both his older cousins, and though he felt that he should not need to, he had to treat them with respect.
"Regulus," Narcissa purred, her blue-gray eyes narrowing, the corner of her lips turning up. Only her blonde hair fooled people into believing that she was not a Black, because in reality, she very much was. When people would realize that she was not only married into the Malfoy family, but was part of the oldest pureblooded family in Britain, they became very, very frightened and overly polite to her.
Regulus turned to Bellatrix, who smirked at him, her heavy-lidded gray eyes gleaming with a kind of malicious amusement. "Bellatrix, I request an audience with you."
Her smirk faded, and her right eyebrow furrowed down. She frowned at him but she stood up, smoothing her silk black robes.
"Come," she commanded coldly. She led him into an office of sorts, ordering Regulus to shut the door behind him as she cast a silencing charm around the room. She turned to him.
"What do you want, cousin?" she asked, her tone filled with ice. Bellatrix was not a loving woman, and it had been a shock to him when she had married in his fourth year.
"I need you to request an audience with the Dark Lord for me. A private one," he said, making sure to keep his expression quite impassive. Bellatrix's eyes narrowed.
"Why?" she demanded, but Regulus shook his head.
"My business is my own, cousin."
"Why are you asking me to do this?" she demanded harshly, sounding slightly angry. "Can't you handle your affairs on your own? Or are you so invalid that you need me to do it?"
Regulus stared at her coldly, narrowing his eyes to slits. He spoke through clenched teeth. "The Dark Lord would not do so for me if I ask it, Bellatrix. You cannot deny that you are one of his favorites. I'm asking for one favor. As a cousin, please do so for me."
"Only because you are a Black," she said coolly after a brief pause to think about it, her chin tilted up and she seemed to look down at her nose at him, even if he was taller than her. She pushed the sleeve of her robe up on her left forearm. The ugly tattoo of the Dark Mark made quite a contrast with her milky skin. She grinned slightly, her eyes widening in almost a maddening look as she stroked the mark almost lovingly. Her breathing hitched as the fingers stroking it twitched, and she clutched at it immediately. Regulus looked at her, realizing just now just how unbalanced his cousin was.
"Tell the others that I had business to attend to," she said in her low, curt voice. Striding out of the office still clutching her arm, she took a left in the direction of her bedchambers.
When he entered the sitting room, Narcissa looked around for her sister. "Where has Bellatrix gone off to?"
"She had business to attend to that was too important to set aside for later," Regulus answered. Rodolphus's eyes narrowed immediately, his face darkening. He itched his left arm instinctively. Regulus did not miss this.
"It is not about you," he answered. "Good-day."
He had not been as glad in his life than he had when he left that morbid house.
Bellatrix appeared in his home later that night. She looked remarkably pale, and she was shaking slightly.
"The Mark will burn when he is ready for you," she told him, breathing slightly heavy. "Never ask me for a favor again, cousin. I am not used to the Cruciatus performed on me as I am performing it on others."
Regulus nodded, but froze when the Mark burned. Bellatrix smirked. "Mmph, look's like he's ready to see you earlier than I expected."
Regulus scowled at her. Already dressed in his appropriate robes, he disapparated.
The knot in his stomach would not go away. His senses seemed to be more acute as the fear flooded through his veins. He was sure he could even hear his heart beat in his chest.
"Remove your mask, Regulus." Regulus obeyed, and dropped to his knees and kissed his Lord's robes, as was expected of him.
"Stand up." Voldemort hissed. "Why do you want to see me, Regulus? And why did you feel the need to send the Lestrange woman here?"
Regulus hesitated for a moment. He had never heard Voldemort call Bellatrix anything but 'Bella' before, and this new name was new and alarming. Was the Dark Lord really angry with her for doing him a favor?
"I came to see if I can," Regulus swallowed. He did not know what would happen if he requested his resignation, so he let it all out at once instead of taking his time. "I came to see if I might resign."
Voldemort stared at him. Suddenly, a sinister chuckle escaped from him, and he stared at Regulus with something akin to incredulity. "Resign? From my Death Eaters? Why?"
Regulus calmed down somewhat. The Dark Lord did not seem very angry. "I am not a killer, my Lord. I do not want to kill anybody."
A very cruel smile graced the Lord's features. "Hold out your arm, Black," he said softly. Regulus froze; he felt an invisible force press him painfully down until he fell to his knees. Shakily, he held out his left forearm. No, no, no, no, no!
In a vice-like grip so it would be impossible to pull away, Voldemort grasped Regulus's wrist, and forced his sleeve up to his elbow. Regulus almost cried from the trepidation he felt at that moment. A long, skeletal, white finger pressed itself slowly on the tattoo, holding it there for a moment as the tattoo's owner let out a shrill, painful scream.
Almost instantly, figures were apparrating inside the chamber with loud pops! They gathered around in a circle, all in their respective places; there was a gap between Avery and Jugson. All of them watched apprehensively as Regulus continued to scream at the horrible burning in his arm, which was now spreading up his arm and his body. Voldemort raised his finger, and Regulus's screams died down to whimpers.
Voldemort was angry; amused, but very angry. Regulus could see it now. The way his scarlet eyes were narrowed to slits, the way his nostrils flared, how his teeth were bared, the gleam in his eyes…. Regulus shuddered and looked at the floor, his head bowed forward.
"Regulus," Voldemort hissed to all the other followers, now releasing the Black's wrist; it fell limply towards the ground, "was just telling me that he would like to resign." Voldemort laughed. "He wants to resign from the Death Eater's."
A shrill, female laugh rang from the crowd, accompanied by some others. "Leave? Leave the Death Eaters? That is why you put me through all that trouble, cousin?" Bellatrix's voice held no amusement now; it was filled with indignation.
Regulus was breathing heavily now, his dark eyes darting around the room, looking for a way to escape. There was none. He never felt so much dread in his life.
"Rodolphus, Rabastan," Voldemort called, and the two brothers stepped forward. "Mulciber, you too."
"Torture him."
The three raised their wands, and uttered the word, "Crucio."
Never, in all his life, had Regulus felt such agony as the three combined torture curses were hurled at him. After awhile, he did not even have the energy to scream properly. When they stopped, the pain did not go away, and he knew he would rather die than to go through with all of this again.
And Voldemort had to make him feel worse before he had him killed.
"You were never the strong one, Regulus," he hissed softly, watching as the man on the floor tensed. "I see that now. I thought you had potential, thought you had something your brother did not. I see what it is now: cowardice. Sirius Black never will be a coward. A fool, but not a coward. You, you can't even kill anybody. Can't bring yourself to kill him.
Whenever the two of you walked into a room, all eyes were on Sirius. You two look so much alike, but always, always, it was Sirius who had the attention of females. Maybe it was because he was taller than you, more athletic, could be able to get a tan, and just downright more talented than you that gave him all that attention.
But he is a fool, and you are too. You have that much in common with him. When this war has ended, both of the Black brothers will be dead."
"It's a lifetime of service, Regulus, or death."
Voldemort turned to Mulciber. "Kill him and dispose of his body elsewhere."
"Black."
Sirius looked up from his desk in his cubicle. His feet rested on his desk and his chair was tilted on the back two legs. He was riffling though some papers when he looked up at Crouch.
"We need you to identify a body," Crouch said bluntly, seeming to think nothing of what the young man sitting before him would feel at those words.
All of the blood drained from Sirius's face. James he thought, looking around and spotting James staring at the two from around one of the walls of his cubicle. Their eyes met, and James shrugged, his brow furrowed at Crouch. Shakily, Sirius stood up, straightened his scarlet robes, and followed Crouch.
Crouch silently led him into a room. Sirius could not get rid of the sinking feeling he had, fearing the worse. He didn't think that it could be Remus or Peter, because then Crouch could have asked for James to identify them too.
Well, Crouch always liked him better. Sirius thought.
Taking a shaky breath, Sirius faced Crouch, who was standing beside a body draped with a white cloth.
"He's a Death Eater," Crouch said, and Sirius's expression melted into one of confusion. Crouch reached for the cloth where the body's head supposedly was and pulled it down roughly.
Sirius stared at the gray face of his younger brother. A small cut was at the end of his right eyebrow, a bruise had been forming under his left eye, and he had a split lip.
"Is that your brother, Black?" Crouch asked sharply. Sirius nodded.
"Yeah, that's him."
"Two employees here turned him in to us, thinking it was you until they recognized him from Hogwarts. They found his body lying somewhere in a ditch near one of the reservoirs. Healer said it looked like he was tortured before he was killed." Crouch said, "Good thing they turned him in too. Now we know it's not you. Well, one less Death Eater to deal with now. We would have flooed your parents, but you were closer. Now, get back to work, Black." Crouch turned sharply on his heal and left.
Sirius lingered for a moment. Finally, he reached out, his hand hovering inches over his brother's face. Slowly, Sirius lowered his hand, where it rested on Regulus's cold forehead. He brushed his hair back away from his face, but then immediately snatched his hand away as if it burned.
"No matter how much I wanted to," Sirius said softly, "I couldn't hate you. S'not entirely your fault you were stupid and listened to your mum and dad. You stupid idiotic ass."
He gently pulled the cloth over his brother's face once more, and silently left the room, feeling an odd emotion constrict in his chest.
Hey! My second HP fic done! Yay! I hope it's a lot better than the first! Well, it's a bit of a downer for the holidays, but I hope you enjoy it anyways! Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Seasons Greetings!
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review!