Six For Gold
He's never been more grateful for the fact that Mother is a hoarder. Her bedroom cabinet is full of trinkets and jewelry that Regulus has never seen Mother take out, let alone wear. But they are the family's so they must be treasured.
When Regulus realised that he would need a decoy locket, he'd considered whether to steal a family locket or try to buy one. The former, he theorised, would go unnoticed for longer. Unfortunately the Blacks are rather well-known and if Mother asked Borgin if Regulus had been by recently, and Borgin remembered selling him a locket, Mother might start to come up with ideas. Better to steal something from her collection, which she's unlikely to check for months, especially in the panic of Regulus' disappearance. He feels guilty about stealing from his family, but sacrifices must be made to stop the Dark Lord's madness. A stolen locket will not matter when he is dead.
Regulus is kneeling on the plush blue carpet, trying to find a locket that looks similar enough to the real version to act as a decoy. The Dark Lord has already tested the cave's defenses so Regulus doubts that he'll do so again soon. That makes finding a decoy easier as the second locket doesn't have to be identical to the Horcrux, just a similar size and gold colour. And the Blacks, Regulus thinks, looking down at the cabinet shelf, have always loved gold. His family are like magpies. There are earrings and necklaces, bracelets and rings, manacles and brooches. Mother and Grandmama had shown Regulus this collection several times before, most recently a few months after Sirius ran away. The implication- you are going to inherit this now, Regulus- was unspoken but clear. In a way, he supposes, he's only taking what's his a few years early. And in a more important way it will never be his because he is going to die. Regulus has made his decision and his decision will end in his death. There are certain characteristics which are undeniably Black, and conviction is one of them. For all Sirius' loathing of their family, he was full of Black conviction and liked to tell Regulus how much he was lacking.
"You're weak, that's the thing," he'd drawl, legs dangling off the arm of the sofa, "You're a wimp. You haven't got the brains or the balls to get anywhere. You'll let everybody down and then we'll see how special they all think you are,"
Regulus wanted to tell Sirius that Sirius was just jealous, but there was something intimidating about his big brother's casually callous tone. Regulus would almost prefer Sirius to be hitting him. His big brother was convinced that their parents worshipped the ground Regulus walked on, but Mother got frustrated at Regulus sometimes.
"Have a bit of backbone," she used to chide him, or "Yes, darling, but speak up. Say it like you mean it". He'd been an indecisive child and Mother had little patience for that. For years she often quoted, "Screw your courage to the sticking place," at him, until Uncle Cygnus told her that it was a line from a Muggle story where witches were withered and evil.
Well, Regulus has found his conviction now. He will go back to that cave with Kreacher, take the locket and order Kreacher to destroy it. And then he will be dragged into the water to down. He will prove his mettle even only to himself. He will die with conviction, like a Black.
...but he is still going to die. RAB, 1961-1979. He will not finish his teenage years. He will not get a job, he will not inherit this house or anything in it. He will not marry and pass his name on to his children. He won't teach his son chess like his father taught him, he won't stroke his daughter's long dark hair. He will not watch or play another Quidditch match. He won't eat another trifle or dance to Celestina Warbeck again. Regulus has planned to see his friends once more before he dies. They're going for a drink in Diagon Alley on Thursday. He'll walk there- it isn't far from Grimmauld Place and he wants one last stroll through London. Regulus has never much liked the city, which is too crowded and dirty for his liking. He prefers the seclusion and clear air of Scotland. But knowing that oneself is going to die does things to perspective so Regulus wants a final walk down Islington Road. The friends he's seeing are Monty, Octavia and Helen from school. They're his real friends since he was eleven, not the Death Eater colleagues he's picked up in the last year. He'll miss them too, but not as much as his school friends. He will buy the three of them a Firewhiskey, and a meal, and say it is his treat. In reality it will be his goodbye.
Truthfully, Regulus is ashamed to admit that he's less afraid of any of this than he is of dying itself. Being dead and not being able to do the things he enjoys or see the people he loves ever again is difficult to imagine. Isn't the point of death that it's the unknown? Which is scary, but not as scary as the idea of being drowned by Inferi. The thought of it keeps making Regulus think of a long-forgotten incident on holiday when he was a little boy. Regulus was six, perhaps seven, and Sirius eight or nine. They'd gone on holiday with their cousins to visit Aunt Druella's Rosier relatives in Auvergne. The grounds were three square miles of French countryside with fields, a vineyard and a lake. One day Regulus, Sirius and their cousins had gone down to the lake to go swimming. Sirius charged across the field and through the trees to the water, bashing nettles and dandelions with a stick. When Regulus and his cousins caught up with him, Andy, Bella and Cissy had gone into the trees to change into their swimming costumes.
"And don't you dare spy on us!" Andromeda snarled to Sirius.
Sirius poked his tongue out at her and pulled Regulus onto the wooden jetty which stuck out into the middle of the lake. Regulus' big brother whipped off his shirt, kicked his shoes and socks off and began unbuttoning his trousers.
"Well, come on," he snapped impatiently.
"Oh," Regulus mumbled. He undid his stiff collar and as he was tugging his shirt over his head, a hard shove slammed against his back, making him lurch forward. Regulus was yelping when he hit the surface so he got a mouthful of muddy lakewater. It was the shock of the cold, rather than the temperature itself, which made him freeze with panic. His shirt was over his face so he couldn't work out which way was up and which down. The clothes were getting heavy with water and Regulus' arms were caught in his shirtsleeves so he couldn't wrestle out. He couldn't see, he couldn't think, he couldn't move. Realisation hit, and then terror, which only paralysed him more. He could feel weeds licking his limbs. If he'd been able to move, the sliminess would have made him shudder.
-And then something was yanking his elbow and Regulus was shooting upwards. His he felt his face crash through the water's surface. Air. Light. Breath. Water dribbled out of Regulus' mouth as he gulped for oxygen. Craning round, Regulus realised that a hand was hauling him out of the lake. His eyes followed the hand up to an arm, shoulders and face. It was Andy. She was half-soaked with a weed splattered across her face, leaning down to grip Regulus' shoulder with one arm, while the other was under his armpit. Regulus kicked to help her lift him out, and Andy hoisted him up onto the jetty. Regulus collapsed on the warm wooden boards, gasping. When he glanced up he saw that his brother and his other two cousins were leaning over them, watching. Andromeda was on her knees, panting like he was. She peeled the weed off her face and tossed it back into the lake. Bellatrix glared at Sirius, grabbed him by the ear and marched him away, crowing that she was going to tell their parents what he'd done. Cissy wrapped a towel around Regulus' shoulders, scooped him up like a baby and carried him back to the grass while murmuring soothingly.
Regulus hasn't thought about the incident in years, but Kreacher's story made him remember. And more than the cold, the darkness, the weeds, the panic, the heaviness of his clothes and the taste of slimy water in his mouth, Regulus remembers Andromeda's hand. Pale and firm on his arm. Dragging him. That's what the Inferi will look like in the lake, except instead of steering him upwards towards the light, the hand will haul him down further into the water.
Regulus wipes his face on his sleeve and looks back into the cabinet. At first glance he can see two lockets. One is plain gold and the other has a pair of birds engraved on it in silver. The plain gold one will do, Regulus thinks, picking it up to weigh in his hand. He lays it beside the cabinet and opens another drawer. This one is full of pearl earrings, with a couple of brooches tucked in alongside them. Well, that's no use. Regulus frowns and shuts the drawer.
By the time he's searched through all five drawers, he's got six lockets on the floor beside him. He picks them up one by one, seeing how heavy they feel, examining the clasp, holding them up to the light to check how the gold glints. Regulus tries to block out the thought of not catching another Snitch and the memory of Andy's hand, but they sneak unhelpfully through into his brain. He's never been good at compartmentalising. Which is ironic, because all this is about compartments; the Horcruxes hidden away. Splinters of the Dark Lord's soul. Regulus shivers. That is why he must do this. The Dark Lord's scheme is insanity in the most sickening way. He's conned his followers into believing that together they are pursing purity and power. Regulus' discovery proves that his fellow Death Eaters are merely tools for the Dark Lord to use as he chases his own inhumanity and immortality. He may be making himself invincible to death, but he isn't impervious to hubris, carelessness, and a teenage boy who has worked out his plan and has the tenacity to stop him. Regulus' only hope is that his parents are dead before the Dark Lord finds out what he's done. Sirius can go into hiding, but Mother and Father will bear the brunt of the Dark Lord's wrath. Hopefully it will be years before the Dark Lord returns to the lake to check his Horcrux protections, long enough for Mother and Father to be dead and long after Regulus has become an Inferi. At the thought, Regulus' hand clenches convulsively around the locket in his palm. Yes, he knows instinctively, this is the one. This is the locket he will use. Gold glints between Regulus' fingers like a caught Snitch. It's the last locket he found in the jewelry cabinet. It's heavy and has a long chain, which Regulus now slips over his neck as he tucks the locket under his shirt. He'll hide it there for the next few days while he writes his note and makes his final preparations.
Regulus carefully replaces the other lockets in their drawers, shuts the cabinet and gets to his feet. His reflection looks back at him from Mother's dressing-table mirror. Neat, pinched, scrawny, high cheekbones and big teeth, the whisper of a moustache on his top lip. Regulus tries to stuff away the thought that he won't live long enough to grow a proper one. He shouldn't think of that. He has a job to do. Regulus meets his eyes in the mirror, straightens his cuffs and fixes his collar, brushing the locket chain with his fingers as he does. This is the boy- no, the man- who will destroy the Dark Lord's Horcrux. Who will show his courage and conviction at last. Regulus nods curtly to his reflection, and walks out of the room.