The day was cold and overcast in London. The streets so easily populated with both muggles and wizards alike were like empty riverbeds, long dried up. It was as if the entire city held its' breath in anticipation of the coming days.
Outside a row of houses right in the middle of Islington Borough, a man in a black cloak appeared with a loud CRACK, along with a house elf beside him. The man stumbled to the ground as he panted, sweat dripping from his brow.
"Master Regulus," The house elf whimpered, unable to help his master to his feet due to his small size.
"No, Kreacher, not here," The now named Regulus groaned. "They know, HE knows, I've betrayed them. I can't stay here.".
"What would master have me do? Kreacher is a good house elf, oh yes!" The elf
looked on the very verge of tears as he watched Regulus climb to his feet.
Regulus opened his mouth to answer his servant before two CRACKS of apparition sounded out behind him. With a whirl, he pulled his wand out of its' holster and faced the two noises.
"Well, Well."
"Look what we have here, trying to run to mummy Regulus?"
The malicious grins of Mr. Crabbe and Goyle stared at Regulus. His silence was
the only response the pair got, deciding instead to fling a blasting curse at Crabbe.
With a snarl and a curse, Crabbe flicked it aside with a shield charm. The blasting curse whizzed directly into a lamppost and exploded, sending it to the ground. Regulus sent the lamppost flying at his pair of adversaries with a heavy twist of his wrist.
The lamppost struck true as it slammed into the pair of death eaters who
were flung to the ground from the force of the blow.
Summoning the last of his energy Regulus sprinted over to the stunned pair and pointed his wand at Crabbe.
"Avada Kedavra!" He snarled at the prone man as a bolt of green light left his wand and hit Crabbe, Regulus watched as the light left his eyes. Goyle, who had not been so quick with his wand, finally drew it on Regulus, terror blazing on his face as he realized that this fight would not be as easy as they thought.
But Regulus was faster. Before Goyle could even cast a spell, Regulus muttered "Imperio" under his breath, and Goyle's wand lowered, eyes glazed over as he stood stupidly in front of his enemy.
Just as he was about to utter a killing curse, Regulus' dark mark pulsed. Regulus
hissed in pain but kept his composure, fearing that if he broke concentration, the spell would break.
But despite all that, fear clawed into his heart. More were coming, they knew. HE knew that Regulus had betrayed him, and Regulus knew there would be hell to pay if he was caught. But how could he escape them when they could track him to any part of the planet?
Suddenly an idea struck him. Regulus turned back to Crabbe's body and uttered another blasting curse. He winced as chunks of flesh and bone flew across the street, covering both him and the spellbound Goyle in blood and gore.
"Master Regulus?" Kreacher questioned pitifully with his deep voice that sounded almost like a bullfrog.
Ignoring his house elf, Regulus turned back to Goyle and pointed his hand at his forehead.
"Obliviate," He panted, the dementor's draught was catching up with him, but the spell worked as he felt Goyle's mind come under his control.
"Crabbe and the traitor Regulus blew each other up with blasting curses. All that was left of them were bits of gore." Regulus commanded Goyle. "You will remember nothing of me aparating away or my house elf." Goyle dutifully repeated what Regulus had said to him.
Satisfied that he had taken care of Goyle, Regulus pointed his wand at his left elbow and, with a shaking voice, muttered, "Sectumsempra." A clean cut appeared where he had pointed his wand, and he watched with fascinated horror as his hand and forearm fell to the cobblestone street and, consequently, his dark mark. Regulus and his family had been so proud the day that the Dark Lord had given him his very own mark they had even thrown a party for him. Now he could only see it as a symbol of his foolishness and failure. "You were always the better man Sirius," he grumbled under his breath.
Then the pain hit him.
With a mad howl, Regulus fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding stump of an arm. "MASTER REGULUS." His house elf shrieked. Kreacher tried running to his side before Regulus waved him off and sent another blasting curse at his dismembered arm, leaving only a gory and singed hand.
"Was too clean looking," Regulus murmured as he tried to get to his feet before stumbling down and uttering a string of curses. "They'd suspect something."
"What has Master Regulus done?!" Kreacher wailed as he finally was permitted to look at his arm.
"Something I should have done a long time ago." Regulus returned, willing himself to stay awake and muttering a quick spell to stop the bleeding on his stump. "Kreacher, take us to the Hog's Head. I think if I were to try, I would splinch myself."
Kreacher looked at his master with barely concealed horror but took Regulus' hand regardless. With a sickening sensation in the pit of Regulus' stomach, they appeared in an alleyway outside the Hog's Head.
The air was much colder and more biting than in London, few people were walking the streets of Hogsmeade, it was getting darker, and a strict curfew across wizard Britain was enforced in all the places that the ministry could manage to keep control in. The tone of the town was very different from the Hogsmeade of his school years, no children throwing snowballs at each other or tasting different sweets, no couples walking hand in hand down the roads, not even teachers dragging students by their ears up to the castle. Hogsmeade would have looked like a ghost town had there not been lights in the shops or silent wanderers on the streets. He almost didn't recognize it.
Regulus stumbled to the ground again, wondering if he could finally fall asleep here. He was so tired. All he wanted was to lay on the snow-dusted cobble and sleep.
"Master Regulus," Kreacher whimpered for what felt like the hundredth time so far.
Regulus tore his attention away from his exhaustion and climbed to his feet, and as confidently as he could, strode into the inn, being sure to hide his wound.
A few customers looked at him strangely but most paid him no mind. Regulus shuffled over to the barkeep, where he was polishing a pair of dirty glasses.
"I…need…a room." Regulus slurred out. He felt like hell. He looked like hell. Regulus was sure that if Sirius could see him right now, his brother would be flat on his ass laughing. Why did he keep thinking about him? The barkeep looked at him with a suspicious glance.
"Aye, we've got a few spare rooms. It'll be-"
Regulus threw all that was in his pocket, about thirty galleons. "Take me to your best one." He panted, and he could feel himself start to black out. "Now," he nearly growled.
The barkeep gave him a dark look, apparently not liking being ordered around in his own establishment, but said nothing as he beckoned Regulus to follow him upstairs and opened the last door on the left. "Here," the barkeeper grunted, shoving a key into Regulus' remaining hand and stomped away, leaving Regulus by himself in the hallway.
The room was dingey but well cleaned, the ancient oaken floorboards creaked loudly under Regulus' feet, and the air smelled of old wood and pipe tobacco.
A lumpy-looking bed stood at the back of the room with a small wooden table and a rickety chair to match it. On the desk was an assortment of papers and an ink quill. Regulus spotted a bathroom to his left, but he was foremost interested in the desk. He grabbed a candle off the bookshelf to his right and placed it on the desk. With a swish of his wand, he lit the candle.
Dragging the chair back, he slowly lowered himself to the desk and began to write down a list of potions and ingredients. After about a minute of fierce scribbling, he picked up the piece of paper and handed it to Kreacher, who had been standing in silent tension behind him.
"Get me these potions, Kreacher. If you need money, go to our vault, but please be discreet."
Kreacher nodded. "Kreacher will bring master his potions. Kreacher is a good
elf!" And with that and a POP, the elf disappeared.
Regulus stared at where Kreacher disappeared for a long moment before his shoulders sagged and he relaxed, his work done. He felt himself tremble as he reached into his pocket and pulled something out.
Carefully Regulus inspected the large golden locket and held it under the pale sunlight of the frosted window next to his bed. With a slight smile, he put the locket back into his cloak and sat down on the bed. "A small victory, but a victory nonetheless."
Without taking anything off, not shoes, cloak, or gloves, Regulus fell back onto his bed, creaking and groaning under his weight. As soon as his head hit his pillow, his eyes drooped, and he faded into the sweet embrace of sleep.
HPHPHPHPHP
"Master Regulus…"
The first thing he was conscious of was the feeling of his lumpy pillow against the back of his head. It was no eagle-feather-filled luxury like he was used to at Grimmauld Place, but after the last day, it felt better than any other pillow Regulus had slept on.
With a flutter, his eyes opened to see his loyal house elf placing droughts and potions onto his desk.
"Kreacher, did you get everything?" His throat was parched and dried. The house elf finished placing the items on his desk and bowed to Regulus.
"Yes, Master, oh yes, Kreacher was able to purchase everything Master Regulus required." He croaked.
Regulus quirked his lip up slightly. "Good, I need you to go to Grimmauld place and grab some of my clothes. I warrant I'll be staying here for a few days, maybe more".
Kreacher bowed again, his large floppy ears nearly touching the oak floor. "I live to serve the House of Black." He warbled, and with a CRACK, he was gone once more.
Regulus looked out the window, there were more people than last night, but it was still a dreary sight in comparison to his school memories, his nose wrinkled as he saw what he suspected to be a pair of aurors standing watch.
His expression became a full-blown frown as he smelled himself. He reeked of dried blood and old sweat. His cloak, vest, and undershirt were soaked in old blood.
Swearing, he pulled off his cloak and vest, something much more challenging to do now that Regulus was missing an arm, but after about a minute of struggle, he threw them both onto the bed and swept into the bathroom.
Regulus placed his bloody stump under the hot running water of the sink, hissing loudly at the pain. After about a minute, he was satisfied, pulled his arm out of the water, and pressed a wet rag against the wound. As he nursed his injury, he looked idly into the mirror.
He looked much like his brother Regulus thought, only with a slimmer face, higher cheekbones, and a longer nose. Sirius always said he looked a bit like Severus, but his nose gave him a distinctly aquiline look that made him look more like a hawk than anything else. Black, short, neat hair framed his face, and a carefully controlled amount of facial hair decorated his chin and upper lip.
"The potions," Regulus murmured, turning into his bedroom to grab them. After picking out the potion labeled blood replenisher Regulus pulled the cork out with his teeth and emptied the entire contents of the bottle contents in his mouth. Gagging at the taste he placed the empty bottle back onto the desk and with a quick flick and a mutter of an incantation ropes sprung around the rag placed over his bloody half-arm. It wasn't much, but it could do for now.
Another CRACK resounded behind him, and he whipped around to see Kreacher carrying a bundle of clothes that nearly covered his entire frame. "Master's clothes, oh yes." Kreacher murmured.
"Thank you, Kreacher. Help me take off this shirt now."
Between the two of them, it took about five minutes to remove the old blood-stained shirt he had on and replace it with a new one. Regulus didn't bother putting on another vest as he slipped into a new cloak.
"Thank you, Kreacher." He repeated. "You may go now. Please return to your duties. I'm afraid I won't be home for a while.".
Kreacher merely bowed one final time and croaked, "I live to serve the House of Black," before apparating away with a final CRACK.
"Yes, don't we all?" Regulus murmured sarcastically before turning to the door and leaving his little room.
The air was chilling, and he could see his breath mist in front of him as he walked through the town. Under his coat, he held his maimed arm, ensuring blood had not leaked out of his makeshift dressing. Looking down the street, he spied the two aurors keeping watch in the town square. Regulus turned up his coat collar and looked down at the bone-freezing cobble road as he passed the pair, he could feel their stares pierce him like the October cold, but they didn't stop him.
Suddenly the quiet street was disturbed by shrieks and whooping coming from an Inn, The Three Broomsticks, as Regulus recalled. The aurors went to investigate, but an old shabby-looking hag burst through the door, frantically waving a newspaper above her wide-brimmed hat.
"THE DARK LORD IS DEAD!" The old crone cackled madly and seemed to do a jig to the tune of some wild song that played only within her mind.
The silence descended onto the square again but lasted only a few moments before the little town plaza erupted into a flurry of noise and activity. Some furiously walked up to the hag and denied her claim to which she shoved the paper into their face and chortled. Others whooped for joy, while many more cried in relief. Only Regulus, in the eye of that storm of joy, stood still, stunned by the proclamation of the witch.
As if struck with lighting, he sprung to life, marched over to the old hag, and swiped the paper from her, reading it as best he could despite her protests and missing hand.
YOU-KNOW-WHO VANQUISHED
Last night in the early morning hours, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named entered Lily and James Potter's residence in Godric's Hollow, protected under a fidelius charm. Both Potters were killed in the subsequent fight, but in a drastic turn of events, their son Harry Potter survived the massacre of his family, and it seems indeed avenged them.
According to Ministry investigations, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fired a killing curse at the toddler. The curse rebounded and caused massive damage to the Potter's cottage. When Aurors arrived this morning to see the carnage he had wrought, nothing of the Dark Lord could be found. "We are doing everything in our power to find out what has happened here," Auror Moody assured reporters who had arrived on the scene. "We will not rest until we have got to the bottom of this." The Aurors arrived at…
Regulus could read no more as the paper was snatched from his hand, followed by a few muttered curses, but he paid the shabby witch no more mind. His eyes were almost glazed over as he looked at the people around him celebrating the death of his former master. "You fools," Regulus murmured. "You really think he's gone?".
Suddenly Regulus turned to see the school of his youth standing proudly in the distance. "Dumbledore." He breathed, ignoring the crowd.
HPHPHPHPHP
The walk up to the castle would have been nostalgic if Regulus had not been distracted by more important matters. Unlike Hogsmeade, Hogwarts looked like he never had left the school. Walking up to the massive front doors, he pounded on the ancient wood with his good hand, wincing at the tremors such an action sent through his hand. After a moment of waiting, the front door opened to reveal the suspicious eye of Filch.
"What business do you have here at Hogwarts?" Filch asked in a haughty tone.
Regulus' nostrils flared, but he kept his composure. "I'm here to see Albus Dumbledore," he said, "I have an important matter to discuss with him."
Filch gave him a nasty smile that looked more like a sneer on his sallow face. "The Headmaster is unfortunately unavailable at this time and will be for the foreseeable future." With that, Filch started to close the door.
"It's urgent!" Regulus snarled at the caretaker, slamming his hand against the quickly closing door. Filch paid him no heed, and with a BOOM, the great front doors of Hogwarts closed in Regulus' face. Half in shock, half in a fury, Regulus whirled around and stomped back into the town.
"Firewhiskey," Regulus growled out at the bartender manning The Three Broomsticks. She eyed him suspiciously but poured him two shots filled to the brink. "Second one is on the house." She said cooly. "You look like you could use it."
Despite his anger, he thanked the bartender and, with a quick toast to her, downed his first shot. Regulus choked slightly as the burning liquid went down his throat. He placed his empty glass on the bar and thumped his chest with his fist. The bartender gave him an amused look. "Can't handle your firewhiskey?" She teased.
Regulus fixed her a glare, but his shoulders soon slumped as he thought about his frustrations. "Not particularly. It was my older brother who was always good with the liquor. I suppose I never inherited that talent".
"Bit of a troublemaker, is he?"
He quirked a lip and gave her an amused glance before looking down at his second shot of firewhiskey. "I suppose you could say that." He returned before emptying the glass and slamming it on the table.
She snorted and lanced him with a charming smirk. "Always the oldest, isn't it?" she asked absentmindedly as she polished his glasses and set them back on the bar.
Regulus sighed, "You have no idea."
"Well, as much as I'd love to ask you more about your troublemaker older brother, I doubt he's the one who got your knickers in a twist." The bartender gave him a piercing stare.
"No, it's not," Regulus agreed. "I had important business up at the school, but it's been delayed."
"Ahh, might you be looking to talk to Professor Dumbledore?" She asked.
He looked up at her, surprised. "Yes, in fact, I was." Regulus stared at her suspiciously. The bartender put her hands up.
"We get a lot of your types' 'round here." She defended. "Either visiting the castle for their kids, or they've got some appointment with the headmaster." She shrugged. "And you don't look old enough to be a father, much less of one attending ol' Hogwarts."
"Perceptive for a bartender." Regulus countered evenly.
She shrugged again and gave him a small smirk. "It makes for good business. People like someone who can tell what they do and who they are at a glance. It makes them feel special."
"Is that so?"
The bartender nodded, and Regulus fell into contemplative silence as another patron flagged her down. Regulus turned around and viewed the celebrating crowd, it seemed like Christmas had come early, and everyone in the town had the day off. It was almost picturesque. If Regulus had not been able to smell the sweat and alcohol, he'd think he was looking at a painting.
Yet despite the joy surrounding him, Regulus could not help but feel a sense of dread envelop him and chill him to his bones. The Dark Lord was not dead. Perhaps he had been gravely injured or even lost his body, but He was not dead. Regulus felt the pocket in which he kept the locket get heavier.
"Maybe I could help you with your problem?" The bartender's voice came from behind him, speaking loudly over the rest of the revelers. Regulus turned to her with a curious look.
"How do you mean?"
The bartender rolled her eyes. "There's a secret passageway in the cellar of Honeydukes. It's a sweetshop. It's just a trot down that way." She pointed out the door and into the street. Regulus' eyes followed its path before looking back at her, an unreadable expression decorating his face.
"Why are you helping me?"
The bartender gave Regulus an airy laugh before her face softened, and she leaned against the bar. "Oh, come now, I owe Sirius a few favors. I'd might as well pay a few forward to his brother."
His eyes widened, then hardened. "How do you know that" he murmured icily.
She quirked an eyebrow at him, her smirk turning into a full-blown foxy grin. "You said it yourself. I'm perceptive for a bartender."
Regulus said nothing to her, merely staring at her with a guarded expression. Finally, the bartender sighed. "Look here, I'm not trying to pull your leg. I can tell whatever you're trying to do is important, especially if You-Know-Who kicking the bucket ain't able to break your bad mood."
"I'm not going to tell you what it is," Regulus replied with a testy tone.
"I never asked." Her small smirk had returned. She gave Regulus a heavy thump on the shoulder before grabbing an empty pint glass and cleaning it out. "Right off, you trot!" she told him.
Regulus hesitated and looked her in the eyes. "Thank you," he said to her earnestly. With a swish of his cloak, he turned and walked out of the inn. The barkeep watched his retreating back leave the building. "My, my Sirius." She murmured, a lazy smile adorning her face. "He didn't even pay for his drink. I suppose that's another favor you've used up!"
HPHPHPHPHP
Honeydukes had not been hard to find. What had been hard, however, was breaking into the shop. Apparently, the owners had closed down the establishment for a day of celebrations. It was nevertheless well protected by various wards. Between attempting to be discreet and uttering the correct spells and charms to slip inside the wards had taken Regulus perhaps nearly thirty minutes.
However, after finally breaking the wards and stepping inside, it only took him a few minutes to find the entryway into the cellar and, from there, the secret passage into his old school.
The passage came out on the castle's third floor, as Regulus quickly realized. He had been lucky, it seemed. The castle's corridors were silent and empty, casting an eerie tone to Regulus' footsteps. Perhaps the students had been given a day off on account of the victory over the Dark Lord?
"Stop right there!" A strong voice called out from behind him. He turned slowly to see who it was.
His old transfiguration professor Minerva McGonagall strode towards him. She looked as if she hadn't slept in days and her eyes were puffy and red. Her commanding tone and composure were totally unaffected by her physical distresses.
"Professor." Regulus slightly bowed his head in greeting.
McGonagall's eyes widened in recognition as she got a good look at him but quickly narrowed. "Mr. Black," She said evenly. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to see Professor Dumbledore," Regulus explained, tapping his foot against the cold stone floor in mild impatience. "It's urgent. I tried explaining to Filch but-"
"He informed you that Dumbledore was busy?" She finished. "Yes, he has been in constant meetings with ministry officials. I daresay it will be a few days before Albus has any time to attend to your affairs."
"It's important!" Regulus hissed. His old professor's nostrils flared in indignation.
"I just told you the Headmaster will be-"
"It's about the Dark Lord!" He exploded suddenly before looking around like an animal surrounded. Finally leaned in to whisper. "He's not gone!"
McGonagall's eyes widened again before she brushed past him, walking resolutely in the direction Regulus had been walking. She looked back at him, eyes flashing. "Don't just stand there!" She barked in her brogue.
For the first time that day, Regulus held a full smile on his face as he hurried to catch up with his old teacher.
It was only a quick walk from where they were before they found themselves in front of the gargoyle leading into the Headmaster's office. "Fudgesicles," McGonagall ordered.
The gargoyle jumped aside as she turned to Regulus. "I will tell him that you are here to meet him. He is in a meeting right now with Senior Aurors." With that, she strode up the staircase.
Before long, she came back down. "He will see you now." She told Regulus and beckoned him up the staircase.
It had been a few years since Regulus had stepped into the Headmaster's office, but it hadn't changed in the slightest except for perhaps a few whirring and odd trinkets. Dumbledore's phoenix trilled from his perch as if in greeting. Finally, Regulus' eyes landed on his old Headmaster.
"Hello, Regulus. I must say this is quite a surprise." Dumbledore said in a genial but familiar tone as if Regulus was meeting a cheerful old uncle he had not seen in a while and not an enemy he had been fighting since last night.
"Has McGonagall told you why I am here?" He asked Dumbledore.
"Professor McGonagall did not, in fact tell me. She merely told me that it was important." His Headmaster's eyes flicked to McGonagall and back to Regulus, his face becoming more unreadable by the moment.
Regulus knew the pair were suspicious of him. He hadn't the faintest clue why McGonagall had taken him to the Headmaster, but there was no going back now.
"He isn't dead."
"He?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"You know who I'm talking about!" Regulus snarled.
Silence overcame the room as Dumbledore looked at his former student, seething in frustration. His eyes flicked back to McGonagall. "Minerva, would you be so terribly kind as to leave us alone for a few moments?" His grandfatherly tone had returned, but his face was as imperceptible as stone.
"Professor, do you think that is wise?" Her eyes rested on the back of Regulus's black coat.
"I assure you I will be fine," Dumbledore assured her.
After a few moments of hesitation, she gently bowed her head and left the Headmaster's office. Her footsteps became fainter as the master and student looked at each other, each studying the other.
"Why do you think that?" Dumbledore asked Regulus. Regulus shifted his balance from foot to foot, he opened his mouth, but for some reason, the words wouldn't come out.
"Do you believe me?" Regulus instead asked him.
"My dear boy, of course, I believe you," Dumbledore waved his hand. "But I want to know why you think such a thing is the case."
Regulus swallowed and revealed his stump of an arm to the Headmaster. "Until yesterday, I was in the Dark Lord's service. I had been in his service since the end of my last school year here at your school." The words rushed out of his mouth. He didn't know why.
"Yesterday, I stole something of The Dark Lord's. I don't know if he found out that I had stolen from him. But I do know that he discovered that I betrayed him." Regulus waved at his ruined arm. "I had to fake my death outside my family's house. I know too much of what the Dark Lord had done. He would not stop hunting me until he knew I was dead."
"That is all well and good, my dear boy, but what does this have to do with his death?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
Regulus sighed. This was the moment of truth. He pulled out the locket he had inspected last night in the inn and showed it to Dumbledore. "Do you know what this is?" Regulus asked in a strangely calm voice.
"I haven't the faintest clue."
"It's a horcrux."