2.

The Shack

"Mothers are all slightly insane."

J.D. Salinger

Catcher in the Rye

Nine Years Later.

The old shack had been reduced to nothing but a few standing pieces of wall held together of what little remained of the roof. There was but a handful of old clay shingles left protecting the roof from rain and even they seemed to have little more than a few stubborn nails tacking them in place. The windows were nothing more than broken frames and the door was no longer where it should be but a few good dozen paces west of the house, blown off it's hinges, perhaps, in a violent gust of wind.

Grass had overgrown the old building, taking it over in wild growths flooding the yard with unruly weeds. Even the inside of the shack had been overrun with the vegetation. Blades of grass found the numerous cracks in the floor and some even finding the strength to push up through the floorboards, replacing the old wooden floor with its earthy counterpart.

The idea that anyone had lived in this three room old shack, even years ago, was hard to fathom. Even when it was in better shape, he had no idea how anyone could live comfortably in a house that consisted of a kitchen, a living area and a small bedroom for everyone who lived there. No traces of plumbing, even electricity, something the muggles liked to use to light their home, was no where to be seen.

Running a hand over the stone sink where broken pieces of plates and glasses could be found inside coated in clumps of dirt, Regulus Black looked around the broken shack. It smelled of rat feces and bad wood, and eyeing a rather large collection of dead weeds and twigs in the corner of the kitchen, the man was sure a nest of mice found some form of comfort inside.

A breeze picked up outside, disturbing the inside of the shack when the wind found all the broken places in the walls. The thin and ragged curtain above the sink ruffled slightly and something long and thin nailed to the wall near the door to the bedroom jerked stiffly when the wind caught it.

He heard a hiss somewhere inside the shack.

Pulling his wand from his belt, Regulus' blue eyes watched the edges of the room, vigilantly. If this was the right place to look, as he was sure it was, something was bound to try and stop him from taking what he came here for.

Another hiss. This time it was louder, drawn out. "You're getting too close," it seemed to tell him.

Regulus stepped through the doorway to the bedroom finding a pile of dirty blankets piled up under the window and a pair of old boots, rotting and eaten off of against the wall to his right. Another piece of that long, thin material was nailed up near the window, this time, though, he managed to see the small splatter of dried blood on the wall near the nail as if the leathery ribbon had once been alive.

Stepping closer he saw where the eyes of the snake should have been and the long fangs in its open mouth still glistened threateningly. The Gaunts were Parseltounges, he remembered, feeling uneasy at the sight, but it seemed even with the ability to talk to the snakes, that did not make the serpents friends of the family.

The invisible Mark on his arm began to tingle when he found himself in the living area but he ignored it, knowing he was getting closer because of it. It was darker in this room, as a thick cotton blanket covered the window, keeping all light from sneaking in.

"Come on, Riddle," he said quietly into the room, feeling as he did so that speaking his name aloud would reawaken a cursed spirit. "Where'd you hide it?"

A breeze blew into the house again, this time a little stronger as it ripped the thick and knotted blanket tacked above the window off the wall and it fell to the floor in a dirty heap, the collected dust and dirt in the faded cotton expelling from its folds. He coughed as he inhaled some of the dust that collected in the air suddenly and he just barely made out the sound of hissing following him.

He froze. The hissing stopped but he could hear slithering beneath the floor.

He turned around the room, one arm covering his nose and mouth with his robes to keep the dust from finding his lungs again and held his left arm up, wielding his wand in front on him, ready for an attack.

Regulus took another tentative step forward and the floor beneath him creaked in protest.

Another hiss. Much louder this time and it was warning him for the last time.

He pointed his wand at the floor, suddenly catching a glimmer in the cracks. There was a faint murmur in the room.

'Black…'

It whispered in his ear, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his left forearm tingled painfully now, but he ignored it and voiced an incantation.

There was a loud crack in the air, like lightning had suddenly ripped through the floorboards and the wood beneath his feet snapped, splintering around the nails, sending more dirt and dust into the air in small clouds. He heard the house moan in objection as its foundation weakened.

'Black…' It whispered in warning.

He flicked his wand up, the sudden jerk sending the wood flying up in a mini explosion; the old wood hitting the roof and falling back down in noisy crashes. The room now was clouded in a fog of unnaturally black dust and he could still hear the falling of wood around him, feeling it all land in his hair and settle in the folds of his robes. He coughed.

'Black,' It was quieter this time, soothing, and he could see shapes forming in the dust. 'this will gain you nothing…'

Sunlight flooded the room in beams of light as it streamed in around the black smog, lighter pieces of dust twinkled in and out of the sunbeams like stars as they drifted to the floor. And as everything settled something gold shimmered somewhere within the room, hidden halfway underground.

Regulus crouched down and examined the dark dirt under the house and finding the source of the gold glimmer, wiped the dirt from the surface and uncovered a gold box. It was elegantly designed with coiled serpents perturbing from its surface, ready, it seemed, to strike anyone who tried to open the box.

He pulled it up out of its hole, random pieces of caked on dirt dropping from the box and back onto the cold ground. Regulus moved a finger over the box, feeling for the crease to open it, and finding it, he made to lift the lid.

The wind picked up again, much harsher than the times before as it began tugging at the ends of his robes. It seemed to gather solely into the living area with him and the box, lifting the dust and dirt once again into the air. Regulus drew back is hand and tucked the box beneath his arm. This was no ordinary wind, he knew, but magic, an enchantment to scare him off and he could see as he quickly straitened himself up, the dust forming itself into a human shape by the force of the wind.

When he looked up he saw his mother staring back at him from within the black dust.

"No!" He growled at the storm, feeling stray pieces of dirt dig at his eyes as the wind began raging more. He turned his face away to avoid the stinging but he could not help staring at his deceased mother.

She was wearing a royally embroidered dress, one he remembered best on her and her long, graying black hair was piled high atop her head. Her eyes, he remembered them to be gray before she had died four years ago, were pitch black now, and they glared at him like he was a clod of dirt stuck between her diamonds and her golds.

'Regulus…' she said to him sternly. 'is this what you want, Regulus? To break your mother's heart?'

He clenched his jaw shut, wanting to retort back, but knowing the spell would feed of anything he said to try and play with his emotions.

The dust that made her body was blowing in and out of her form, never really breaking her shape but billowing black clouds out behind her, all swirling madly around her, and Regulus was mesmerized by the wicked scene. 'I had… such high hopes for you and now you're throwing it all away, for what?'

The magical wind that helped keep his mother's form began tugging forcefully at his hair and robes, trying to suck him in, and as it got more powerful, his mother got angrier. Regulus had a hard time trying to simply back away from his mother, his legs feeling weak as the current pulled them forward, as she just seemed to be sucking him towards her. He was forced to hold his wand and the box in the same hand as he tried to grab the edge of the window for support.

He closed his eyes, finally unable to watch any longer. But as hard as he squeezed his eyes shut the more he wished he could turn his ears off as well.

'Muggles and Half-breeds! Mudbloods and blood traitors, Regulus!' his mother screamed, towering over him. 'How dare you turn against your family for them!'

The air around him was howling now as his mother became livid and it took all of Regulus' strength to just hold onto the windowsill, as his mother got closer. He turned his head and looked outside, where everything seemed peaceful, just how it had been when he walked into the shack. A great contrast to what was going on inside the old house. If he could just leave the property of the house, he believed, the charms would break.

But that was easier said then done, and as he thought this, the storm picked up even more.

The dust began swarming again next to Walburga Black as the magic formed another person. Starting at the feet and working itself up to form a body of a man, the dust turned itself into another member of his family. Regulus nearly dropped his wand and the box he was holding when he saw his brother, standing before him, dressed in the robes of the Death Eaters, just as dark and unforgiving as his face looked. He was sneering.

Regulus watched his brother take a step closer to him with sad eyes. He never expected Sirius to turn to the Dark Lord, never thought his brother would become an angry and mad wizard like he did. He should have told Sirius, should have told him what he was doing long ago, maybe then, Sirius wouldn't have turned.

'How could you?' Sirius growled at him and Regulus flinched. 'You had everything! A loving family! A place by the Dark Lord's side! We could have been great together, Regulus! You and me! With Lord Voldemort!'

Regulus could feel the box slipping from under his arm as the wind picked up even more. Layers of wood on the walls were peeling off and began spinning in and out of the forms of Walburga and Sirius Black as they both glared at him. He could just faintly hear the tinkling of glass from the kitchen as the broken pieces in the sink were unsettled by the magic. The boards that made up the walls were shaking, clattering together and rocking the house.

'We would have been invincible, Regulus.' Sirius continued. 'The infamous Black brothers!'

Sirius began laughing and Walburga turned to look at her eldest son and she beamed with pride.

The piece of wall he was clinging to was splintering from his weight and the pull of the wind inside the house. It was going to buckle any moment now, letting his mother and brother suck him and the wall into their swirling mess of darkness.

Regulus shuffled to grab the side of the window with one hand but he slipped and ended up catching the sill again instead.

'But you gave it all up!'

'Why can't you be more like you brother?' His mother bellowed, almost overlapping her eldest son's words. 'He found his true calling and you have strayed away from it!"

'Give up, Regulus,' Sirius howled between bouts of laughter. He could hear whistling around him as the currents of the wind blew between the cracks in the wall, but despite that, Regulus could still make out his mother's and Sirius' words as if they spoke them to him in a quite room.

'Give up like you did your Master!'

Their words finally struck him and Regulus clinched his jaw and glared at the dust forms in front of him. His long dark hair was thrashing in front of his face, whipping him in the eyes and the dirt continued to pelt his skin, stinging every bit of exposed flesh it could find.

He opened his mouth to say something only to have the wind steal his words. He coughed once and regained his breath.

He swallowed hard and yelled at his mother and brother.

"I have –"

Deep breath.

"No-"

He felt a stinging in the back of his throat and he resisted the urge to cough.

"-Master!"

He snarled at the magical forms before him, feeling a wave of rage at the very sight of them. Regulus gripped the window sill tighter.

Sirius continued to laugh. His mother screeched.

He caught his footing under himself again and leapt for the side frame on the window and heaved himself up onto the ledge. He cast one last look at the two members of his family inside the house. Sirius was still laughing, a mad expression twisting his face and his mother was enraged, seething at the sight of him rebelling and running away from her. She bellowed something he couldn't catch from the wind blowing around him and Walburga Black rushed forward, intent on grabbing her youngest son and hauling him back inside.

With wide eyes, Regulus lifted his legs over the sill, nearly dropping the gold box as he did and he let himself drop, tumbling over the edge and the short distance onto the ground on the other side. His mother's form flew out the window, and finding the boundary of the curse, broke a part, dispersing in the air outside with a howl.

Regulus landed on his back and he gasped, feeling the tight panic in his chest as the air was knocked from his lungs. He rolled over onto his side, feeling air rushing back into him and he coughed, literally seeing the strange black dust falling from his mouth.

Everything grew quiet.

If he had thought, when he started his hunts for the Dark Lord's horcruxes, that this was going to be easy, he was definitely deluding himself, he thought. Though, this had been a piece of cake since he escaped from the island with the locket with the help of Kreacher, Voldemort's wards and tricks were always surprising him and he hated to think of what other special charms his old master had waiting for him with his other horcruxes.

He couldn't wait to find out, he thought sarcastically.

Regulus sat up, the unkempt grass towering over his head from his seat beneath the window and he looked around. There was no wind outside the Shack and the air was clear. It had been like falling into a whole new world after fighting the dark tornado like figures of his kin. And after thinking of his beloved family Regulus was happy to see there were no signs of his mother or brother anywhere.

The gold box had landed upside down in the grass next to him with his wand sitting, perfectly intact, a few inches away. Regulus picked the box up and eyed it suspiciously. The Dark Lord had hid it there, in the old shack, protecting whatever was inside from being found. Voldemort must have placed a lot of faith in the idea no one would discover the truth about his horcruxes or he'd have placed a better concealing charm around his old family home. The locket had been harder to get, and required two to uncover it from the island, the box however, with the family ring inside, though harder to track down, was much easier to steal.

Regulus ran a dirty hand through his equally dirty hair, feeling the dirt and dust that collected in the windstorm falling loosely around his face. He made a disgusted face and spat when he felt tiny grains of soil grinding in his teeth and he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, finding that it too was entirely coated with filth. He moaned in distaste. He'd have to wait until he was home, the box carefully hidden until he could even think about being clean again.

Regulus stood up and picked up his wand, looking back inside the house to find a large hole in the middle of the floor, a combined vandalism from his spell work and Voldemort's wards. If anyone were to come knowing what was hidden inside would find that they were not the first to have come here looking for it. There was no hiding the fact that someone had been here and took what they wanted. At the very least, with the locket, he managed to find a replica and replaced it as well as the Diary he found at Malfoy Manor eight years previously. No one would realize the real things were missing until they took one long hard look at his decoys, except this one. The ring, if one were to look just slightly, was obviously taken. Hopefully, no one came looking anytime soon.

He sighed and looked at the gold box, tilting it back and looking underneath it curiously. "Oh, the things I do to destroy you," he said to it with a scowl. There was another faint hiss, but was unbothered by it, used to the way the horcruxes tried talking back to him.

He smirked at it.

Regulus could see his dirty reflection in its surface and it was probably dirtier than he was after being stuck in the ground for years. He wondered vaguely what the box looked like after it had been all polished up and then wondered more, what the Gaunt Family ring inside looked like.

He moved his hand as if to open it but hesitated. No, he wouldn't open it until he knew how to destroy them. He'd hate to for the Curse of Lord Voldemort to unleash Walburga and Sirius Black on him again.

Sighing softly, Regulus looked up toward the road into Great Hangleton six miles away, feeling safer finding a way home there than this close to Voldemort's mother's home. He started forward, finding an old rucksack to keep the box safe in, and headed down the road, thinking he finally found his third piece to his collection of seven. Whatever the other four turned out being, he expected to find out soon.

Things were about to turn nasty, he knew, and he hoped to be well prepared for the Dark Lord's return, and his destruction soon after.

Author's Note: See? I didn't lie! I've thrown some curses and Horcruxes in with the mix! You can't say that wasn't the tiniest bit of fun, can you? Well, I had fun writing it, so please, please! review! I'd love some feed back! Whether it be good or bad, I'll value your opinion.

Chapter 3 excerpt:

Lucius swallowed hard before whispering nervously: "I-I think…I think I found him, Regulus."

"Who?"

"The Dark Lord, of course!" he yelled, and realizing his outburst continued in a much quieter voice. "I found the Dark Lord. In Albania. I found him, Regulus!"