Chapter 10 - R.A.B

July 1976

Regulus was lying in bed, his head buried beneath the blankets despite the warm summer sunshine that was creeping around the edge of his curtains, casting long shadows across the wooden floorboards. It was late morning, and Regulus had been awake for hours, listening to the sound of raised voices from downstairs.

The previous evening, Regulus had watched his brother drag his school trunk down the stairs, screaming at his mother as she took out her wand and set fire to his portrait on the family tree. Sirius had left, slamming the door with a resounding thud that left them all in a momentary silence. Then there was more shouting, cruel laughter from his cousins and a furious rage from his mother that Regulus quickly excused himself to avoid.

He felt at odds with the situation, in many ways unsurprised by Sirius' departure but still filled with a dull ache of loss. It was stupid, he thought sullenly, as he listened to the sound of footsteps echoing up the stairs. Sirius was stupid. Why did he always have to act out against everything their parents said? Family was what mattered, but ever since Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, he seemed to have abandoned theirs.

Regulus raised his head from his pillow as he heard the door to the room next to his – Sirius' room – burst open. The voices of his mother and father rang through the thin walls between the two rooms, accompanied by regular crashes and bangs. Cautiously, Regulus got out of bed, walking bare foot towards his own bedroom door. He pulled it open, stepping out into the surprisingly cold corridor and turning towards his brother's bedroom. Walburga was standing in the middle of it, wand pointed at the chest of draws by Sirius' bed, while his father stood in the doorway, beside Kreacher, who was holding open a rubbish bag.

"What are you doing?" Regulus asked, alarmed, as he watched several of his brother's belongings float across the room.

"Purging this house of any of your brother's delusions," Walburga stated.

As she said it, her gaze turned to the picture of the motorbike that was stuck to the wall on her right. She pointed at it, muttering several spells, but it maintained Sirius' stubbornness and refused to budge.

Regulus was surprised that his mother didn't blast a hole in the wall.

"Look at all this muggle rubbish," she said, turning to her husband. In one hand she was holding a cube full of brightly coloured squares that Regulus had never seen before. In the other was a hand-sized device that Regulus immediately recognised.

He felt his heart drop.

"What on earth is that?" his father asked, taking the device from Walburga.

He pressed the button on the walkie-talkie, frowning in bewilderment.

The answering static sound however, didn't come from Sirius' room at all.

Both of his parents turned to Regulus.

"Regulus," his mother said in a voice that sounded calm but was edged with a dangerous coldness. "What is that sound, and why is it coming from your bedroom?"

"Er," Regulus said. He glanced down at the floor, looking at the scuffing that had marked the wood after all the times that Sirius had carelessly flung the door open. "They're walkie-talkies. They... Sirius gave one to me."

"Fetch it," his mother ordered.

Solemnly, Regulus went back to his room, digging the walkie-talkie out from the back of his cupboard. Sirius had given it to him a few summers ago, and they had spent several nights entertaining themselves with them, pretending they were spies, or pirates, and at other times just being brothers, whispering in the dark.

He took the walkie-talkie back to his mother, who pointed sternly to the rubbish bag Kreacher was holding.

"But -" Regulus said, looking down at the device in his hand. Despite the fact that it would be useless without Sirius on the other end, he was reluctant to part from it. "It doesn't even work, couldn't I just -"

"Get rid of it Regulus," his mother interrupted. "Or I will."

He turned to Kreacher, who smiled at him weakly, but didn't say anything.

He dropped the walkie-talkie into the bag, watching it smash into the one that his parents had already disposed of. Walburga and Orion nodded, satisfied, and Kreacher closed the bag.

Several hours later Regulus was back in his room, preferring to keep to himself than talk to either of his parents. He was halfway through a book about dragons when there was a soft knock at the door, and Kreacher slipped into the room, looking around warily.

"Master Regulus," the house elf said, bowing slightly.

"Kreacher," Regulus said, smiling. He was happy to see the elf: currently the only presence in the house that he wasn't averse to.

He was carrying a tea towel carefully in his hands, and as he crossed the room, climbing onto the bed beside Regulus, he said, "Mistress told Kreacher to put the estranged Master's things somewhere she would never have to look at them again."

Regulus sighed.

"But," Kreacher pressed on, "Kreacher thought that, if Master Regulus was careful, there is no reason for her to see this again."

Kreacher unfurled the tea towel and there, in his outstretched hands, was Regulus' walkie-talkie.

"You saved this for me?" Regulus asked, shocked. "But isn't that against the rules? Won't you have to -"

"That is not of Master Regulus' concern," Kreacher said. Once again, he held his hands out towards Regulus, who took the walkie-talkie.

"Thank you."

Kreacher nodded, hopping down from the bed. "Young Master is kind," he said, "Kreacher wishes only to be loyal."

"You are," Regulus told him, a growing warmth for the house elf washing over him. "You're a good friend, Kreacher."

21st November 1979

Regulus was pacing. The hour was late, well past midnight, and his mother had long since gone to bed, so the house was silent except for his footsteps. It had been almost three hours since Kreacher had left 12 Grimmauld Place, since he had handed over his house elf to Voldemort. Regulus had told Kreacher that it was an honour to serve The Dark Lord, but as the night went on he grew less and less sure that his words had been true. He wished he'd had the courage to ask what Voldemort needed a house elf for, to ensure that Kreacher would come back alive. Regulus had lost his brother and then his father, and he wasn't sure he could bear to lose Kreacher too - especially knowing he could have prevented it.

It was a relief when Regulus heard a small pop and turned to see Kreacher standing behind him. But his relief evaporated a moment later when he took in Kreacher's appearance. The house elf was dripping wet, droplets of water falling from his body onto the floor, making a mess that Kreacher would normally have cleaned up in an instant. But Kreacher seemed barely aware of his surroundings, shaking violently and staring straight in front of him, the huge blue orbs of his eyes seeming even wider than usual.

"Kreacher?" Regulus said. The house elf's gaze fell upon Regulus and some of the fear left his expression. "Hold on," Regulus added, rushing out of the room and returning with a towel, which he wrapped around Kreacher's shoulders. "Are you alright? What happened?"

He led Kreacher towards a chair, and after a few moments he stopped shaking.

"Master told Kreacher to come home," he said in croaky voice.

"Yes," Regulus said gently, "and you followed my orders perfectly. But Kreacher, what did the Dark Lord need you to do?"

Kreacher shuddered. "The D-Dark Lord took Kreacher to a cave. There was a lake and a b-boat."

"What happened?" Regulus asked, frowning.

"A p-potion. The Dark Lord told Kreacher to drink it, and Kreacher saw terrible things." He clutched his stomach. "Kreacher's insides burnt like fire. It was fear like he had never felt before. Kreacher wanted to stop, but the Dark Lord only laughed and made him drink more."

Regulus felt rage well up inside him, and shame, too. He had given Kreacher to the Dark Lord, had allowed his loyal elf to be taken away, and from the sounds of it the Dark Lord had tortured him – and laughed while he did it.

"What potion, Kreacher?" he asked. "Why did he need you to drink it?"

"A locket, Master," Kreacher replied hoarsely. "After Kreacher drank, the Dark Lord placed a locket in the basin and re-filled it with potion. Then the Dark Lord left Kreacher, and Kreacher cried for Master Regulus but he was all alone. Kreacher needed water so he - he-"

Regulus balled his hands into fists to stop them trembling. He didn't think he wanted to hear the rest of Kreacher's story, but he encouraged him to go on.

"Kreacher drank from the lake – a dark lake, black as night – and hands reached up – dead hands grabbed Kreacher and d-dragged him down."

"Inferi?" Regulus said, finding himself whispering.

"The D-Dark Lord does not know elf magic," Kreacher said. "He didn't know that Kreacher could apparate out of the cave."

"He left you to die." Regulus turned away, running a hand through his hair. Bitterly, he said, "I suppose the Dark Lord thinks house elves are expendable."

"Master?" Kreacher said, breaking Regulus out of his thoughts. "The Dark Lord told Kreacher the locket was called a – a horcrux."

Regulus' eyes widened. "So that's it. That's where he has hidden his soul."

"What does this mean, Master?"

"Never mind, Kreacher," Regulus said quickly. "You should rest, now. You've done very well."

Kreacher nodded and unsteadily made his way to the nest where he slept. But Regulus had no intention of sleeping, not with what he now knew. The answer to Kreacher's question hung at the front of Regulus' mind.

It means the Dark Lord can be defeated.

August, 1972

Regulus was sitting on a tall stone wall, waiting for his older brother to return from the muggle shop he'd ventured to in search of food.

It was late summer, and their parents had told them to stay in the house while they were away, but Sirius was adamant that staying the house was far too boring, and so they'd happily rushed outside at the first opportunity. They wandered around for a little while, running through the nearby park before traipsing through the streets of London.

Regulus swung his legs whimsically as he watched the door to the shop across the street, and sure enough his brother reappeared a few minutes later, carrying two paper bags full of chips, which Regulus gratefully tucked into.

"Do they have chips at Hogwarts?" he asked, glancing up at his brother. "Or is it all healthy, boring food like mother makes?"

"There's all sorts," Sirius grinned, "the tables are the length of a quidditch pitch, filled with all the food you can imagine."

"So, chips?"

"Definitely chips," Sirius laughed.

The two of them sat in companionable silence for a moment while they ate, watching the muggles around them go about their daily lives.

"Why do you like muggles?" Regulus felt compelled to ask. "Mother says that you have bad friends, who teach you things that you shouldn't believe in."

"You shouldn't listen to mother so much," Sirius frowned. "Muggles are just people, like us."

"Hmm," Regulus mused. He wasn't sure whether to believe Sirius or not, but he wasn't willing to push the subject when they were spending rare time away from the house without either of their parents there to berate them.

"Have you learnt any cool spells at Hogwarts?" he asked instead.

"Loads," Sirius confirmed. "But you know I'm not allowed to show you outside of school."

"That's not fair," Regulus whined.

"I could show you something else cool though," Sirius smiled. He jumped down from the wall, glancing up and down the street before turning back to Regulus.

"James and I have been trying to learn muggle tricks, how to pick locks and stuff like that." He paused, waiting until a muggle man with a large moustache had passed them. "Watch this."

Regulus watched as he effortlessly fell into step behind the man. Silently, and with what seemed to Regulus impossible speed, he reached into the man's pocket, pulling out his wallet.

"You stole it!" Reuglus whispered when Sirius jogged back over to him.

"Yep," Sirius grinned. He flicked open the wallet and held it up to Regulus. Inside there was a picture of an older women with grey hair and a wrinkled smile.

"Is that a picture of his mother?" Sirius laughed. "What a loser."

"Maybe it's his wife."

"That's even worse."

Raising his voice, Sirius shouted, "Excuse me Sir," in what Regulus recognised as a purposefully sweet tone of voice.

The man turned around, and Sirius ran up to him, handing back the wallet.

When he returned, he shrugged. "It's not like we need the money."

Regulus laughed again, grinning at his brother's antics. Sirius always seemed to know lots about everything, and Regulus was eager to learn more too.

"Can I try?"

"Sure," Sirius said. He bent down beside Regulus. "Just be quick and quiet. Do what I did."

Nodding determinedly, Regulus waited until another man – this one with a much smaller moustache but a rather larger stomach – passed by them.

Cautiously he crept after the man, managing not to draw any attention to himself as he stepped closer, reaching out to the pocket where he could see the thin outline of a wallet.

He tried to grab the edge of it, but as soon as his fingers clasped around the leather the man let out a startled grunt and turned around.

His and Regulus' eyes met for the briefest of moments, before he bellowed "YOU LITTLE -"

The next thing Regulus knew, Sirius was pulling him backwards, laughing and shouting at him to run.

Turning on his heel, Reuglus did as he was told, running and laughing as the muggle man shouted after them, waving his fist comically. He and Sirius rounded a corner side by side, running for two more streets before they finally came to a stop, leaning against the wall of a pebble-dashed house at the end of the street. The small stones dug sharply into Regulus arm as he collapsed against them, but he was bursting with too much energy to even notice.

"Nice try little bro," Sirius laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll get it next time."

29th November 1979

Regulus had barely left Grimmauld Place since the night Voldemort had taken Kreacher to the cave. He had told no one what had happened, merely telling his mother that Kreacher had returned late at night and needed time to rest. On his orders, Kreacher had stayed hidden, so that the Dark Lord would not know he had survived. He alone bore the secret of the Dark Lord's horcrux, a seed planted in his chest that seemed to grow every day, an idea sprouting inside him that he couldn't seem to ignore.

All the things Regulus had seen – the things he had done – were because of Voldemort. His influence had caused a schism in the Black family, separating Regulus from his brother and Bellatrix and Narcissa from their sister Andromeda. Evan Rosier, Regulus' oldest friend, had died in his service and the Dark Lord barely seemed to notice, let alone care. And even months after it had happened, every time Regulus closed his eyes he saw the Bones family dead upon the floor, with those two small children who died needlessly. He felt like he hadn't had a full night's sleep since that terrible evening.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that a knock at the door startled him. His mother was out and Kreacher was hidden upstairs, so the house had been completely silent – and it was a silence that was hard to shake off. As he opened the door, he saw Snape on the doorstep and frowned. The two of them did not know each other well; they had been two years apart at Hogwarts, and for many years he had mostly known of Snape through Sirius' hatred of him. Even in his fourth and fifth years, when Snape and Regulus had shared several friends – if they could really be called friends – and they had got to know one another, they had certainly never been close. His appearance was unexpected, and Regulus let him into the house reluctantly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, making no effort to be tactful.

"The Dark Lord sent me. He needs all of our forces to take down a family of blood traitors."

Regulus swallowed, the faces of the Bones family floating to the front of his mind. "To kill them?"

Snape frowned. "Obviously."

"I don't think – surely there are other ways to deal with them."

"The Dark Lord's orders were very clear, Regulus." When Regulus didn't reply, Snape continued, "It will be a difficult battle, so prepare yourself. I'll be using this." He took a small bottle filled with golden liquid from the pocket of his robes. "Felix felicis. I won this years ago, at Hogwarts, and I'd almost forgotten I had it. With luck on my side, we can be certain of a victory."

"There has to be another way," Regulus said. "Blood traitors are still pure bloods. Surely there's no need to kill them."

"Working with the Order of the Phoenix is enough of a reason."

Regulus sighed. "Severus, don't you ever think that maybe we're on the wrong side? Everyone treats Slytherins as though we're evil from the moment the sorting hat touches our heads, but it doesn't have to be that way." Urgently, he continued, "You weren't always like this – you were friends with that muggleborn girl, I remember that. Don't you ever have doubts?"

Snape's expression was unreadable. Slowly, as though he was choosing his words carefully, he said, "You can't think that way. We've made our choice, and we're on the winning side. Soon the whole world will see things our way."

"Power isn't everything." Regulus began to say more and then stopped himself. Instead, he merely said, "I'm not coming with you. I'm sorry."

"Be careful, Black," Snape replied. "You know what happens to those who betray the Dark Lord. Even your family can't protect you if you turn against him."

"I know."

Snape turned to leave, and Regulus caught a glimpse of the golden liquid nestled in his pocket. Without really thinking about it, Regulus used the trick Sirius had taught him so many years ago, and a moment later the bottle was in his hand, safely hidden in his fist.

As he closed the door behind Snape, his gaze fell upon the family insignia etched above the door frame. Toujours pur. Always pure. He thought of all that his parents had taught him, of the terrible things Bellatrix had pushed him to do, and he realised it was a long time since blood purity had mattered to him. He imagined his brother's laughing face the first time Regulus had tried and failed to pick a muggle man's pocket, and he wished Sirius was there to give him courage once more.

Opening his hand to look at the bottle resting on his palm, he finally decided what he needed to do. And he was going to need all the luck he could get.

30th November 1979

It was done. With Kreacher's help, and a little extra luck, Regulus had found the cave where the Dark Lord's horcrux was hidden, and together they had crossed the lake of black water. Kreacher was nervous, shooting worried glances at the lake as Regulus looked into the basin of potion. At the bottom, just as Kreacher had told him, was a heavy-looking locket. With a trembling hand, he reached towards it, but just as he expected his hand couldn't pass through the liquid.

"Okay, Kreacher," he said, looking at the house elf in the light of his wand. "It's time."

"Must Kreacher drink the potion again, Master Regulus?" he asked, his voice wavering.

With a jolt of surprise, Regulus realised he hadn't explained his plan to Kreacher.

"No, Kreacher," he said softly, and the elf looked relieved. But Kreacher's expression changed to horror when Regulus said, "I'm the one who's going to drink it."

"No, Master!" Kreacher exclaimed, trying to put his small body between Regulus and the basin. "Master must not drink it – Master will see such terrible things – Kreacher must drink instead."

"No." Regulus gently pulled him away from the basin. "Listen to me, Kreacher. I need you to do this for me – it's the most important thing I've ever asked of you. You must force me to drink all of that potion, no matter what I say, and then you'll replace the locket in the basin with this one." He placed the fake locket into Kreacher's palm. "Then you must go home and destroy the locket – whatever it takes, it must be destroyed."

Kreacher was shaking his head, his ears flopping from side to side. "Master, no, please don't make Kreacher do it – Master will die!"

Regulus felt tears on his cheeks. "I know," he said in as steady a voice as he could manage. "But you must survive – you have to go home and take care of mother. And you can't tell anyone what happened, alright? Not even mother. No one can ever know."

Kreacher looked at Regulus, his eyes swimming with tears. "Master Regulus is very brave," he said.

Regulus wondered if that was true. If people would consider him brave if they ever discovered his sacrifice. He wondered what his mother would say, and whether his brother would think he'd finally chosen the right path.

With the image of both their faces held in his mind, he summoned a cup and began to drink.