RAB

by wordtinkerer

If Regulus could send his brother a single letter in his life, what would it tell?

So, Regulus Black has been one of my favourite chars since the fifth book, and I had this daydream a couple of days ago and needed to write this. Hope you enjoy :)

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R.A.B

Sirius,

How can I begin? How can I even begin to write you these lines, when you and I know perfectly well this is my first and last letter to you? Perhaps I should give up, ignore the urge of telling my tale myself, throw the torn up parchment I'm using and leave. I raise my hand, touch the thin yellowish surface with my pale, slender fingers, and run them through all the extension of it. A sharp edge makes me shiver, and soon enough I see the lonely drop of blood running down my skin, staining the parchment deadly. That makes me forget my fear. I'm mortal, after all.

Not only mortal. I'm about to die.

I can remember clearly the first time I saw you. And before you mock me, tell me I couldn't possibly remember your face over my golden crib, it wasn't then. You were five, I was three. The Hertfordshire property had been arranged specially for us, and the polished grass shone under the bright sunlight. Bellatrix was an eight year old girl, a lot different from the witch she is nowadays. She and Andromeda were running after you, who had stolen their favourite dolls.

I sat beside Narcissa, safe under the care of our mother, and smiled when you laughed hard, pounding you feet on the ground as if your life depended on it. You turned to see if they were reaching you, and I saw the right corner of your lips turn up, maliciously. Bellatrix ran faster than her younger sister, and got to you, pushing your chest.

You fell down, still laughing. She smirked, and soon you were both on the grass, rolling on a fierce fight for the doll. I was too young to understand, then, that you were playing, having fun on one of those rare occasions when neither mother of Aunt Druella were angry at you.

You rolled over Bellatrix, and I saw your lips touching her cheek.

I can't even express my surprise – and even sorrow, if you ask – to notice those happy lines are not on your face anymore. You became serious, stern. War does that to people, or maybe is the absence of Bella, who used to me your friend.

You used to best me at everything when we were kids, you know. I guess you didn't notice how much this hurt me – you never cared about anything except yourself, obviously – and even now, when you read this letter, you won't. My feelings were never important, not for you, not for anyone. I'm the replacement. The spare male heir in case you died, or deserted. Irony stated otherwise, though. I should be the one to die first, after all.

I stare at the dusty window of my old bedroom, the cloudy day resembling how I fell inside. Long ago I think I heard mother screaming for me to go down and have lunch, but I'm not so sure about that.

Ever since you ran away, she's always screaming.

Being a little more nostalgic, I can picture myself on the corridor, lying on the floor as you laughed above me. I had fallen from the stairs, I guess, the world was all blurry, and all you did was laugh. I can't blame you, though, for my position must've been quite amusing. Mother told Kreacher to care for any injure I might had. Of course she wouldn't care personally for a young boy who wasn't even the first in line to inherit the Black wealth.

You stopped laughing when she appeared to inspect the job, and I heard your quick footsteps go upstairs. I was surprised, then, that we had something in common.

You were as afraid of her as I was.

That afternoon at Hertfordshire never happened again after you got your Hogwarts letter. The sealed envelope seemed to light the house as nothing else could, and I could even hear father – who seldom talked to anyone – brag about the fact that you were to be a full formed wizard. I can't even imagine was would've happened if you were a squib. They'd probably kill you, literally.

I was quite relieved they didn't.

I though life was solved, then. At ten, I was beginning to realize that being younger had its advantages, after all. No expectations fell upon me, never. I could stand still and look pretty all day and no one would care. You were older, stronger, handsomer, and powerful and fit for a prince. I wasn't it, and didn't have to be, either.

Not until you got into Gryffindor.

I felt so devastated that night. You obviously hadn't sent a word – I wouldn't, if I were you, anyway – and Bellatrix posted just a ripped piece of parchment, with those dreaded words. Father screamed, yelling at everyone. Mother even cried, crumbling and putting fire to the note. I stood still by the fireplace, watching as your future burned in front of me.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me over. Father was pale, with purple circles around his eyes and red stains on his neck. His arms trembled, but his hand gripped me hard, hurt me.

"Don't you dare." He spit on my face, insanity on his eyes. "Don't you dare make the same mistake."

That was what you became, then. A mistake, the wrong one. And yet again, there was I, to take all the guilt upon me.

"I won't, father…" I mumbled, wishing he would let me go. I didn't want to be there, in that dark and cold dining table, having to listen my father threaten my life if I ever got into somewhere else than Slytherin. I wanted badly to be on my bed, hid from everyone, reading. Anywhere else, but there.

Albeit my fear, deep inside I felt sort of happy, comfortable. It was nice to be spared for a while. It was nice that now you were the outcast.

So, you can imagine my anger and sadness when mother tried to save you.

"Orion." She called, the ambition glowing on her eyes. Father let me go – I didn't even notice he was still holding me – and turned abruptly towards her. "Gryffindor is for the brave… Maybe, just maybe… That's good."

"He's different from everyone else in this family, Walburga." He growled, throwing himself at a spare armchair that sat on the corner, staring blankly at nowhere.

"He could've gone to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Think about it, he got into a major house, a good one. There's still hope. We marry him to a good Slytherin; their children will fall right on their places."

"What about the other one?"

I mentioned to move away, for they were already talking as if I weren't even there. They used to do that when I was younger, thinking such a small kid couldn't understand how underestimated and ignored it was. But I was ten, for god's sake. I got the idea very well. I had a problem, a big one.

I weren't Sirius Black.

"He'll do well. "

Of course I would. The rest of that year was dedicated on trying to convince everyone of how perfect you were, however the Sorting Hat said or did. No one remember that was my last year home.

My eleventh birthday was celebrated, though, as my Hogwarts letter was. The difference was that, this time, I had no option. I was born to be a Slytherin, and a Slytherin I must become.

The first of September arrived fine, but I could see you had changed. You wrote letters in the middle of the night, sending them by unknown owls that seemed to have been instructed by someone else to grab the messages. You became full of secrets about Hogwarts, or the friends you had.

You drifted even more apart from me.

The platform was full, and the humbug of people talking, mixed with the annoying sounds of owls hooting, frogs croaking, cats meowing and rats shrieking, made my head spin, and I barely listened to mother and father's instructions. Guess I didn't miss much, though, they've been repeating these topics the whole past year.

Go to Slytherin, make good connections, and stay close to your cousins and brother.

The moment they left, however, I was alone with Bellatrix, who now was at the fifth year, Andromeda, from the third year, and Cissy, who was my age. You had disappeared.

'Let's go, cousin." Bella commanded (she never asked for anything, just like you), and I followed her.

"What about my brother?" I turned my head sideways, looking for you, and was caught by surprise when saw you smiling widely, close to three boys. One was tall as you, wearing round-shaped glasses and a messy dark hair. The other was skinny, who looked always sick and about to fall to the ground, in contrast with the chubby last one, who ate a bar of chocolate as if it was nothing.

You talked vividly to them, panting the messy-haired boy on the back, friendly.

Friendly. Almost brotherly, like you had never done to me. Something bad grew inside my stomach, and took a while to realize it was jealousy. I wanted to make the three boys disappear; yell at them like father yelled at me. Because while you were having fun at Hogwarts, making friends and forgetting everything you were taught at home, I had to endure all the angriness of my parents, who bothered me every day about Hogwarts's Houses, threatening me if something went wrong, like falling in the wrong house.

Just like you did.

"REGULUS, WHERE'S YOUR FATHER?" A wild scream woke me up, and I realized it was already sunset. This letter is all but neat under my sleepy head, and I try to brush my hair a little before going down.

Oh, you've been so long away from home, right? Father is dead for a couple of months now. One day he just passed away, didn't wake up. Mother screamed, as usual, for me to take him to St. Mungus, but when I arrived at their bedroom I knew it was too late. Ironically he passed so swiftly, silently and peacefully. Maybe someone felt pity for his miserable life beside the noisy woman mother is.

The thing is, after he died much changed, you know. Mother's gone mad; no one would pay her a visit since then. She lives locked inside Grimmauld 12, ordering Kreacher around and yelling at nowhere. Or at me.

I'm all she's got left now, after all. I run downstairs before she does something unexpected – like the time she almost burned the house down trying to warm some tea for father, who had died a week before – and find her fully dressed in a dusty gown, holding her night purse tightly and looking at the grandfather clock that sat on the corner.

"Where is he? We're late already!" she rolled her eyes, and I feel the urge to kill her. I've killed so many people it wouldn't make a difference, except that she was my mother. My mad mother who though she had some kind of gala to attend.

"He's not going, mum." I try to be as kind as I can, not letting her see the disappointment on my face.

"What? Frankly, how dare he? I'm already dressed!"

"Sorry, mother. He's not with disposition to go."

"Oh, well, then I guess I should stay, then. Will you call Kreacher, Reggy?"

"Yes, mother." I bow my head, ignoring the pet name and calling the house-elf, who's my only friend. He guides her to the kitchen as I leave upstairs, sighing heavily as I close my heavy mahogany door behind me.

Where was I? Oh, yes, Hogwarts. I was sorted into Slytherin, after all. When the name sounded loudly at the hall, relief took me over. I was different than you, I weren't a mistake.

Bellatrix patted me on the back and smiled approvingly when I sat beside Narcissa, and kept talking a lot about the wonders of belonging to that house. I turned my head a little, and saw you having dinner at the other edge of the Great Hall, smiling to that Potter boy.

You didn't even care. You know what, now it's my turn to ask you. Why didn't you care? Was I that repulsive, did I embarrass you? What was wrong with me? Why didn't you care about me and the house I was in?

Just like the others, just like mum and dad, just like the family, you ignored me. I was the replacement.

How dare you?

Soon enough I found out you and your friends were becoming popular by the day, and you belonged to the Gryffindor quidditch team, as a beater, along Potter, who acted as chaser. The girls, even the older ones, looked interested in you. You were only a second year and everyone longed to know who you were.

I wished I could tell you how I felt, and spend many days on the holidays thinking and planning what I would tell you. Should I use the word "hurt"? Should I cry? The questions pounded in my head. It was one of those nights, on your fifth year, my fourth, when I paced around my carpet, muttering words to myself, which I found out one of your secrets.

The first clue that something was going on was a quiet knock, as if someone had hit a thumb on the wooden furniture of something like that. We had guests that evening, uncle Cygnus, aunt Druella and the girls. Andromeda was beginning to become a rebel, going out with some muggleborn boy, and her parents had hoped some days in London would make a difference, make her change,

I gazed at the clock, and saw that it was already two in the morning. No one was awake that hour. Another thump, this time closer. I grabbed my wand quickly, forgetting I wasn't supposed to use magic outside the school. Throwing it away, a lantern served my purposes, and I lowered its light until my room was dim, opening the door slowly.

The hall seemed silent and innocent, and if it wasn't for a third noise I probably would've given up and thought it was just my imagination. But there it was the sound. I crawled out of my bedroom, closing the door so no one would notice my absence, and headed to the library, where a light shone discreetly.

As I approached, the noise of voices woke me even more. There was a slip of light going out of the half-opened door, and I slipped my gaze through it. I will never forget what I saw.

You were sitting on a reading chair with your chest naked, the few dark hair on it going up and down as you panted. The shirt of your pajamas was crumbled on the floor, and I could sense your pants were going the same way. Sitting on your lap was a girl, her long curly dark hair covering the nakedness of her chest and breasts. Her full red mouth covered yours, making your breathe fail as she moved her body toward yours. The room was dimly lit, and only when she parted from you to enlace your neck once again did I see her face.

Bellatrix Black, soon-to-be Lestrange.

My perfect brother and my perfect cousin were breaking all the laws of the family that night, snogging hard on the armchair. Something like excitement coursed through my veins, and I felt powerful with that secret on my hands. Your secret relied on me.

The panting grew louder, and Bellatrix growled when you buried your head on the curve of her neck to the shoulders, kissing her skin You had your eyes closed, but something in the way you caressed her made me notice how passionate you could be, apart from being obnoxious and cold towards me. I slipped away from my hideout, pressing myself against the dark wall of the corridor. Forgetting I was supposed to be discreet, I ran to my bedroom, locking myself inside.

You were in my hands, at my mercy. One word of mine and you both would be banished, I knew it. Bellatrix was about to get married, she was supposed to be untouched. You were a fifteen year old heir, had nothing to lose. She'd go crazy on you.

The next day I longed to see mother, for the first time, and tell her everything. We were all on the breakfast table, silently eating, and I let my eyes wonder on you two. Bella was well composed; her head down, the hair that last night covered you was tied up. One couldn't only tell she hadn't slept well by the tired look of her eyes, which shone brightly at the same time. I looked, then, to you. Accustomed to stay awake to late hours, you didn't even look tired. You just looked happy.

For a moment, I forgot this was supposed to be a dreaded day for you. I knew a quality when I saw one, and you were, after all, a Gryffindor.

You were daring.

I don't know what I felt that moment, but when mother gazed straight to me, nothing came out. I couldn't say the truth, not to her, not to anyone. Some strange feeling of betrayal took over my chest, and I couldn't precise whom was I betraying. Myself, perhaps, for being such a coward or maybe you for even thinking about telling mum about it.

Mother, albeit the awkward atmosphere that surrounded the table, looked quite satisfied, and smiled proudly as she exchanged gazes with Druella.

"We have an announcement this morning."

I could feel the tension gather volume around our heads, forming a cloud of anxiety upon us. Announcements weren't usually good, or satisfying. They were source of sorrow, pain.

"Do you want to tell her, Druella?" mother asked sideways, but Bella's mum just shook her head happily, moving her hand as if motioning her to move on. "Well, as you wish… Bellatrix, we've negotiated with the Lestranges."

You raised your head suddenly, making me feel nervous. For God's sake, I had just saved you by keeping the secret; you just couldn't put my action to waste just afterwards! Bellatrix raised an eyebrow in a mist of surprise and nervousness. I wondered what she would answer, if she would stay by your side; tell them she didn't like that Lestrange boy.

"Good news." She said instead.

You went deadly silent as mother and Druella started babbling about ceremonies and dresses, and I felt sort of bad for you, just for a moment. Before a remembered that at Hogwarts there'd be thousands of girls to make you forget Bellatrix.

At the wedding, that winter, I noticed another quality in you. As Bellatrix entered the garden – at that same Hertfordshire property – you stood steadily by father's side, as mother always dreamt you to be. Polite, quiet, stern and great. Only I could see that glow in your eyes.

Pride. In this case, hurt pride.

You loved her, and she left you, simple as that. You wouldn't show it, of course, but I could sense it. You stood the whole ceremony like that, though. I had started to feel pity, somehow, until you got home using a headache as an excuse.

My pity lasted to the time I heard mother screaming. Your bedroom was opened, as were your drawers and cabinets. All your clothes were gone, as were most of your books and magic gear. I froze on the threshold as mother kneeled In front of the empty wardrobe, her fists tight, her eyes closed. Father paced around, growling and muttering to himself. Then, he stopped dead, turning his head towards me.

You deserted, after all. And as you were gone, they had no one, except me, to take your place. After all, I was the replacement, weren't I?

"Congratulations." Father spit sarcastically as he passed through me. Mother did the same minutes after, locking your door. No one was allowed in, not even Kreacher. It was like you were dead. That night, I heard a crack and sensed the burning smell. You were burned of the tapestry and, therefore, banished from the family.

You weren't even my brother anymore.

Back at Hogwarts, I saw you again. You looked happy, despite quite wilder than before. Probably losing Bellatrix made you somehow distrust women at all. Every week I saw you with a different one. Blondes, brunettes, gingers, brown-haired. Blue, black, green, gray, brown eyes. Tall, short, slender, skinny, chubby. All were fit for you for two years. As you grew even more alike a stray dog, I felt all the responsibilities of being the eldest fall over my shoulders.

It was between these two years, however, that my attentions drove away from you. I was sixteen, quite naïve, but still a sixteen year-old lad. The Slytherin girls wanted to date you, almost all the girls wanted.

Except her. Marlene Mckinnon. The first time I noticed her was like that, seeing her face didn't show any sign of recognition when you walked by. She was the prettiest girl, too. Medium height, long waved of black hair falling upon the brunette skin. A pair of the most marvelous blue eyes matching the picture. The blue sapphires made me want to delve inside her, wrap my fingers around her cheeks and kiss her.

I was in love for the first time. My heart skipped a beat when she was close; I trembled at the mere sight of her smile, my skin shivered when she laughed. Sometimes I think she noticed I stared, for I could see her waving towards me, timidly. I waved back sometimes, smiling quietly.

"Master Black?" I hear a screech outside the door, and rest the quill to open it. Kreacher looked weary and worried, and had scratches on his arms. Probably by the struggle to put mother into bed. "Master said he wanted to see Kreacher?"

"Yes, Kreacher, I did." I say carefully, getting him to enter my bedroom. "Just let me finish this"

Here, back I am. One morning, I woke up the same as every day, putting my uniform and tidying it neatly in case I should see Marlene. When I got to the Great Hall, though, something felt wrong. There were whispers everywhere, girls looking sad and angry. As I took my usual place at the Slytherin table, a mumble caught my attention.

"There you are, Potter." Snape twisted a fork with his wand, his dark eyes reflecting on the shiny metal as it turned and wrapped in front of him. He was apparently sad and somewhat revolted, spitting the words to no one. "Congratulations."

"What's going on, Snape?" I asked, ignoring his attack. Snape turned to me, lifting his gaze from the fork and pointing to the Gryffindor table. James Potter was eating normally, laughing near that muggleborn who he used to bother to go out with him. Lily Evans, I think. She looked happy as well, which was new to me. Apparently they had started to hang out together.

This specific fact didn't change my life, however. I still thrived with every smile Marlene directed towards me, still drew her eyes on the corners of pieces of parchment that lied around. A few days passed by until I realized how this could affect me.

I later came to know through someone else's comments that since her friends started dating – Lily was the last one – Marlene became very lonely, always forgotten by them. You were alone as well, for Lupin had a girlfriend, Pettigrew was growing closer to some of my own friends, and then Potter left you. You just became friends, to my complete despair. Soon enough I saw that look on you, which glow on the back of every look you gave her, every smile you shared. Ironically, we had another thing in common: we both loved the same girl.

You just had to spoil everything for me, once again.

The first time I saw you both chatting on the lunch table, my appetite just ran away. I could see you releasing all your charms around her, and Marlene resisting bravely against you. She laughed normally, did the same jokes as always. I felt victorious at her resistance. It was close to the Christmas holiday, and I decided that was the perfect time to train a lot and then, when we were all back, talk to her.

So I just ignored. You went to Hogsmeade trips together – as friends, I heard – and spent classes talking to each other. I spent my hours talking to myself, pretending broomsticks, armors and ghosts were Marlene. I talked to her, rehearsed possible responses.

The holiday came, and my energies were restored during it, even though mother was getting madder by the day, following father's early weariness. The house was falling apart, but all I could think of was the possibility of finally staying with Marlene Mckinnon. The train travel was never so slow, and my hands were sweaty when we arrived again.

I ran through the corridors, hoping to see her at every curve, but nothing seemed to work. She had disappeared, vanished completely. I had given up on doing that day, and was caught unprepared for Potter running past me, stopping Lupin and his girlfriend.

"You have no idea of what I saw." He muttered at the edge of laughter, bringing interest upon their faces. Saying no more, they started running, and I followed them without thinking. Lupin's girlfriend was Marlene's friend; she should lead me to her.

In a sick kind of way, I was right. I found her, alright.

She was with you. Just like in a picture, the scene I saw wouldn't leave my mind for hours, making me want to kill you every time it repeated. Marlene leaned on the stone wall, smiling maliciously to you. You had your hands placed on her waist, grabbing her strongly. Your bodies were close, so close their shadows were only one and you touched her lips casually with yours, kissing her with abandon.

I felt foolish, for thinking she was immune to your so-called charms. Felt stupid, realizing by the look of you that you liked her truly, for you looked at her the same way you'd look at Bellatrix. I could feel happy for you finally forgetting her, after all. But you had to do that by ruining me. You choose the girl I loved to replace Bella. The image of the way you stared at her was printed on my brain, insistent and impolite. You used your third quality.

Passion.

My legs ran for themselves the way back to the dungeons, and I whispered the password blindly to enter the dormitories. As I sat on my bed, away from everyone and alone in the dark, the truth hurt even deeper. I hated you so much. All I wanted was to be better than you in something, I wanted to be powerful. Tears burned as they ran down my face, but I cleaned them quickly. Blacks weren't supposed to cry.

"Regulus?" I heard Narcissa's delicate voice whisper among darkness, waking me from my daydream. Trying to keep as calm as possible, I turned a light with my wand, staring at her.

"What?"

'You look sad."

"Did I ever look happy to you?" my voice sounded harsher than I indented, and she backed.

"I know what you want, Reg. Bella told me yesterday."

"Bellatrix is foolish, she thinks she knows me."

"She's older; she must know something you don't."

The tone of her voice made me calm down a little. Bella was far away from us; even farther than she had been when we were kids. The Dark Lord had recruited her the month after she married Rodolphus, you know. She was becoming darker, madder, evil was growing inside her, and we all saw it. Except Narcissa. She trusted her sister, and though everyone should do the same. That night I was lonely, sad, angry and wanted revenge, at any cost. Even at the cost of relying on Bellatrix Lestrange.

"What did she say?" I whispered back, and saw the mattress give on to Narcissa's small weight as she sat down in front of me.

"She said you wanted to be a strong heir to your poor mother."

Believe me, brother, even I laughed at this. Mother could be mad, screaming around and everything, but she was never "poor". Cissy looked relieved I smiled faintly, and I answered her idea trying to keep a stern voice:

"She's quite right, then. What is she offering me?"

"She wants to talk to you, and I think you should go. She's being very nice."

You know, Brother, how Narcissa is a porcelain doll. In less than twenty minutes she could make me laugh, first insinuating mother could ever be "poor", and then saying Bellatrix was being "nice". Obviously she wanted something in return for power, I knew it. But I had been observing, for months by then, the Dark Lord's activities.

He was the most powerful wizard in the world, dared to go where even Dumbledore didn't. I admired him, yes, even though something told me to stay away from whatever he proposed to his followers. That moment, with a chance to join them so close – because that was what Bella was going to ask I return, my soul – I hesitated, but not as much as I should.

I know it now, at least.

Cissy told me Bella would come to meet me on the next Hogsmeade trip, on a pub called "Hog's Head", which stood on the boundaries of the village, but couldn't explain why she had chosen such a place. When I entered, however, wearing all the warm clothes I could find in my closet – that was a terribly cold winter, you would remember – the filthiness of the bar answered all my doubts.

Fortunately, Bella was already waiting for me, sitting alone on a table close of the door. I waved towards her, but she only appeared to have recognized me when I sat down, feeling my hands shiver in protest as I took off my gloves to shake her hand. Her nails had become claws, scratching my palm as we parted.

"You've grown, Reg.' she commented, and something in her voice made me shiver, remembering the images of you and her that night two years before. She looked older as well, but life (and Druella) had taught me not to point such a fact out to a woman.

"Hope that'll serve me well." I chose to reply, smiling. She giggled.

"Oh, it will. So, I heard Sirius is no longer available."

Suddenly the atmosphere over my head blurred and went dark, with heavy rainy clouds. I could laugh at the images of Bella and you, but not at the memories of Marlene close to you at that corridor. My face went serious, and I nodded silently.

"You don't seem very happy, was she of your interest?" Bella assumed, but I shrugged. We had business to discuss, not my love life. Even if it was, I'd never tell anyone I could be in love with a Gryffindor. "Well, you shouldn't fell underestimated, cousin. As you must know, I've been working in some projects designed by a great wizard."

"Lord Vold-" I started proudly, but she grabbed my neck with her claws.

"Don't say his name in such insolent way, Regulus. He's much greater than you and you don't deserve to call him by his name. He must be addressed as Dark Lord."

"Forgive my ignorance." I apologized, rubbing the red stain that marked my flesh. "Dark Lord."

"Yes, you're a quick leaner. I assume you've heard of him, then."

"Have been quite interested in his work, I must confess."

"That'll please him, for he has been talking about you."

Something cold ran from my throat to my spine. "Me?" I babbled, imagining the Dark Lord, in all his presence, pronouncing my name to my cousin. Bella smiled satisfied, caressing my chin with her long fingernails.

"Who else? You, love. He asked me, as I am your cousin, if I could talk to you, make you a… Proposition."

I should've walked away, brother; I should've told her I wasn't interested. But that would be such a lie. Today I know this was a mistake, but that afternoon I was so angry, and she was seducing me with a perspective of beating you. So I nodded, motioning her to move on.

"The Dark Lord is very powerful; he can give you anything you'd ask for. Power? He is generous. Wealth? He's influent, that'll take a second. Fame? Easy job for him. He can even get you that girl. And all he asks in return in your loyalty, your service."

"What kind of service?"

"Oh, all kinds of service. But you'll be so powerful and comfortable they'll look like nothing."

I pictured myself in a huge manor house – Hertfordshire, perhaps – looking out of a huge polished window to the green valley that extended towards a little village nearby. My clothes were neat and luxurious, and suddenly I felt a grip on my shoulder. Marlene looked at me, inviting, calling me for a walk, a kiss, maybe more. My stomach ached, and I reckoned that, with those things, no job would be impossible.

"What do you say?" Bellatrix asked, her dark eyes shining towards me, waking me from my daydreams. Still feeling Marlene's grip on me, I nodded.

"I'll take it."

"I knew you'd make the right choice." She smiled, rising to her feet. I put my gloves on again, but before I could pull my sleeves back she gripped my left wrist, lifting my shirt to my elbow. "I'll leave you a sign of our agreement, and we shall make it concrete by the summer."

She poked her wand on the pale, thin flesh, and I closed my eyes when a terrible burning pain seemed to pass through it, marking my bones and melting my blood. It lasted for almost a minute, which was how long I regretted even having being born; let alone agreeing with that madness. When it stopped, I could still feel it inside me, as a second shadow that cursed me and all my body. My eyes opened reluctantly, and they went wide at the sight of the faint picture of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Bellatrix showed me hers – was much stronger – and pointed out that by the summer mine would be reinforced by the dark lord himself. I nodded as firmly as my arm would let, and tidied my sleeve as she left.

When the cold wind outside hit my head, my hand flew instantly to the place where Bella's wand had been ten minutes earlier, feeling the gentle curves that scarred my skin within. Deep inside I knew that someday I'd regret that afternoon, but never could I have imagined how early that regret would come.

You finished your seventh year as the most popular – beside Potter – of the school, bringing girls to tears on the evening before we all left. Marlene and you made a nice couple, and every time I saw you two she was smiling, making me fell a mix of jealously and anxiety. After all, I was going to be powerful, no one would stop me.

Not even you.

The summer was unlikely cold and foggy that year, and I had to lift my sleeve again for the dark lord – who repeated the promises Bella had made – to touch the burn on my arm and do it again. We were at the Lestrange's property, in Kent, and a great feast was prepared for the occasion of not only my "marking" as they would call, but also of more three young lads who, just like me, had offered their lives in return of power and influence. Even one of my classmates was there, the young and spoiled Barty Crouch. Junior, of course, his father was desperate to end the dark arts at any cost.

"So, Black, why didn't you tell me the Dark Lord had recruited you here?" he asked casually, smiling as if that was the day of his bloody wedding or something. I felt sort of envious of his comfort in there, so different of my naïve amazement and hesitation. The name "Dark Lord" seemed to dance around his voice, while coming from mine sounded like a curse.

"I supposed you already knew." I growled, trying to mock his intimacy with the others.

"No, I must've been so happy I forgot to ask the other names. Please do forgive me!"

"Oh, don't you bother with me." My mouth opened ridiculously in an awkward smile. "I didn't ask either."

In fact, I didn't want to now.

Rabastan, Rodolphus' younger brother, joined us happily, holding a glass of red wine in one hand and the bottle on the other, his cheeks already flushed with excitement.

"Just love when they 'ave new ones!" he hiccupped. "So, Reggy Black, who'd say? Y'know, almost killed yer brother last week…"

The butterbeer I drank stopped in the middle of my throat, and I gasped trying to talk again. "What?" my voice babbled and Rabastan seemed to think it was very amusing.

"Yes, m'boy! There's this circus, Dumbledore's doing, y'know. They're tryin' to stop us! Fools… Hic!"

"And Sirius's in it?" I muttered, not exactly asking. I knew you'd do something like that, it was so you.

"Yep!" Rabastan giggled, burping loudly. Disgusted at his drunkenness, I walked away, trying to put my thoughts in its place.

That night I went home decided to give up Hogwarts. Who needed classes when I had all those death eaters who could teach me everything I needed to know? Besides, when I got my reward from the Dark Lord my life would be completely resolved, and none of my years in school would mean a thing.

As soon as I stepped out of the fireplace, though, my mind changed. With all the glories behind my back, I could see clearly the situation I'd face for the upcoming year if I decided to stay. The floor and walls still shone under Kreacher's care, but the misery was beginning to show itself in every detail. Mother was sitting on the kitchen armchair that night, waiting for me. Her wand was resting aside, and she gazed upon pictures, which Kreacher tried to clean as she threw them on the floor.

"Evening, mother." I greeted respectfully, feeling like a clown in a horror circus. Her eyes barely passed through the faces she saw, and there she was, throwing the picture on the floor. I approached carefully, picking one of the photos and gazing at it.

It was you and me when we were kids. I was nine and you were ten, in some event the family was doing. Judging by the look in your face, it was probably one of the girl's birthdays, because your eyes wondered elsewhere, probably on the cake. We were dressed the same, with tidy sweaters and nice gray trousers, our feet stuck inside polished shoes and white socks. Your hair was a little messy – perhaps of running and playing – but mine was neat as if it had just been combed.

Other picture fell on my foot, and I grabbed it before Kreacher would. This time I knew when and where it was. It was the last picture you've taken alongside me. Bella's wedding.

We looked different from the picture, both in looks and expression. I was way shorter than you (almost all the male in our family were short until their fifteen, then suddenly rocketed to the usual great heights we had) and was all tidied up in a suit with a dark tie. My mouth twisted a little sideways, an excuse for a smile, and my eyes shone brightly. I remember why I was so satisfied. I held your secret.

You, on the other hand, looked like a vampire. Your skin was pale and you had dark circles around your usual merry eyes. Your brows were frowned, and you had worried lines on your face. Still you stood tall – much taller than me – and stern, seducing the photographer as you always did. The flashes seemed to love you, they always did. Even beside my happiness you looked handsomer.

"This mess." Mother shrieked, throwing another package of pictures on the floor. "Kreacher is cleaning, and is never enough. Regulus, where's your brother? Call him to beat this elf, we could use a man around here."

"Sirius is gone, mother." I sighed, feeling instantly guilty for telling her the truth. She was mad, for God's sake; I didn't need to make it worse. But at the same time, I did. As expected, her eyes looked surprised, and she rose to her feet, looking sideways.

"What? Where is this brat? He's supposed to be here for supper, the girls are coming! Bella wanted to see him, you call him right now!"

The urgency of her voice, the dizziness in my head for all the butterbeer and firewhisky I had drunk, the angriness at the state of the house, everything just made my face flush with anger, making me throw our pictures on the floor.

"STOP IT!" I yelled, for the first time. The little scared boy inside me shivered, knowing he'd get punished for raising his voice, but the death eater I had just become shushed my younger self. I had to tell her. "STOP IT, WILL YOU? SIRIUS IS GONE, MOTHER, GONE! HE BRETRAYED US, DESERTED US! WE'RE ALONE, DID YOU HEAR THAT? NOT EVEN FATHER IS HERE, HE'D RATHER GO TO FRANCE THAN SEE YOU!"

"What?" her voice sounded, for the first time, weaker. My heart broke at the sight of her, seeing the whole scene in my head again. Father blasting your door, seeing you were gone, the screams, the anger, the resentment, all in her eyes that moment. She could be anything, but she was my mother. I had to make her feel better.

"Sirius deserted, mum." I sighed, sitting her again on the armchair and kneeling before her. Kreacher took the drift and collected the sacks with pictures that laid on the floor, taking them away quickly. "Look, he deserted, but I'm here. Me, Regulus, your son. I'm here. Always."

"Always." She repeated, vaguely. "Regulus, my younger one."

"Yes, here I am. Look, I joined the Dark Lord in his fight; I'll be doing some good jobs for him."

"Jobs…"

"Bellatrix herself said I'm going to do well."

"Bellatrix…"

"Yes, are you getting my point, mother?"

"That seems good."

"And it is."

I left her there, calmer than before, still repeating my words. It's only a year, I thought, only a year then I'm out of here. So I decided to get back to school.

My seventh year went quickly, after all. The difference was that, this time, I wasn't alone, stalking Marlene or hating you. I had friends, Death Eater friends. Barty Crouch wasn't that bad, and his friends respected me for the mark we both had on our left arms. We protected each other in any case, and for that one year I felt something close to friendship. I wonder until today if the reason why I treasured it so much was whether because I knew it was going to end by the end of the year, or maybe because I simply didn't believe in friendship.

I left Hogwarts without saying goodbye. I just left.

Arriving home, now completely able to serve any duty the Dark lord could give me, I felt less freedom than I thought I would. The first mission I was sent was to investigate a wizarding family that was apparently spreading word against the Dark Lord. They were called the Fiddlebaners. Mother, father, son and daughter. There were five of us: me, Barty, Bella, Amycus Carrow and Anthony Dolohov. They were supposed to train us.

When we apparated, in a suburban side of west London, I held my wand firmly to stop my hand from shaking. My first mission, I was quite nervous. The family house was one in a million others, made of gray bricks and a brown roof. Bella approached, knocking the door. I wondered how they interrogated them, if they used as many curses as I heard.

A pair of eyes showed at the mail box opening, and I could see it, crystal clear, as though I felt it myself.

Fear.

Bella knocked again, this time applying more straight. No one answered. I began to feel nervous.

"Perhaps…" I stammered. "Perhaps they're not here."

A cruel smile distorted Dolohov's already ugly face. "Yeah, boy. Maybe they're not home, right? We should just walk in, then."

And with just a wave of his wand, the door blasted away. I could hear the screams inside, and started running after Barty as he delved into the place. Bellatrix walked anxiously around, sending spell after spell at the furniture. A cat ran in front of us, and Carrow killed it. At the sight of the green flash, someone screamed.

"Please! Please don't!"

A man around his thirties appeared from a secret door, his hands in front of his face as if to show us he carried no weapons. He looked average, with brown hair and brown scared eyes, but I could see someone blonde was hiding inside the wall. His face was desperate and he looked defenseless. For a moment I doubted he was even a wizard, by the look of him.

"Please." He repeated, and Carrow laughed harshly.

"Please, please!" Amycus mocked, making Dolohov laugh along. Bella looked angry at them, and they silenced.

"Are you Mr. Fiddlebaner?" she inquired, playing with her wand. The man nodded, terrified.

"Yes, mam. Please, we know nothing…"

"That's unfortunate." Our cousin muttered, looking at her nails. "Our reports say you do know something. Where are the others?"

"There aren't others…" his voice was failing. I froze on my place, unable to move or speak. All the emotion, the adrenaline I thought I'd feel. It simply didn't appear. Bellatrix, on the contrary, looked like she was having a great time. However, the man kept repeating he didn't know anything, and it was getting to Amycus' nerves. He passed through her and blasted the door out, revealing the mother and kids.

Kids. They were kids.

The boy must've been around twelve, and I tried to remember his face from the sorting when I was on my sixth year. He looked like his father, the same hair and eyes, the same deadly fear inside them. The girl was being held by her mother, the golden locks of her hair falling like an angel around the little shoulders. She reminded me of Narcissa, a doll. The difference was that Cissy had it all. The dresses, the stockings, the toys. This one had nothing of her own. And by the look of Bella's face when they were discovered, not even her short life was hers anymore.

I had only the time to blink longer before the three were attacked, and the image of their dead bodies will haunt me to the day I die. Remembering this makes me almost crave the next hours, brother, and the certainty of death finally sounds more comfortable.

As we left the house, leaving behind the four bodies, I swallowed, and realized my throat was dry.

Countless missions followed that one, and day after day I felt the weight of more bodies falling on my shoulders. There were times when they did just for the fun of it, attacking muggles and burning their houses afterwards. I just sat there, frozen. I heard when they killed one of your companions after the other.

Benjamin Fenwick.

Dorcas Meadowes.

Their names sounded familiar sometimes, and I felt a surge of nervousness inside me, wondering if the day would come when your name would be written on the casualties' list.

By that day I had been on the group for four months. I was getting scared, wanting to walk away, get out of that. The deaths didn't please me as much as the others, and Barty was growing inside the group, whilst I was being mocked for killing just the weakest. The old man, his wife. The ones I figured wouldn't last long, anyway.

I decided to run. I couldn't just sign off – it was a lifelong job, you whether died in it or they killed you – but needed desperately to do so.

While I was trying to figure it out a good way of escaping – one that didn't involve having to suicide or something worse – that one mission came. We were on the woods, burning a village to the ground, when a note came, warning us that the Order of the Phoenix was coming. That was your group. The Order.

We heard the yells and shouts, and soon your spells hit some of us, staring duels. I was inside a house by the end of the main street, hiding behind the door, when it opened. The smoke blinded my sight, but the voice was unmistakable.

"Regulus?"

Marlene.

She closed the door behind her, raising her wand at me. Two years had done her well. She had acquired womanly features, a smart yet suspicious look on those eyes, some scars along her jaw. I was no longer that stupid Hogwarts boy as well. My urge was to push her to the wall, kiss those scars. Make her forget. Forget it all myself.

But as usual, all I did was stare.

"Marlene." I whispered her name, and my voice sounded so desperate she backed off a little. The plea went out swiftly, but urgent. "Help me."

She frowned, gazing sideways. Shadows indicated my colleagues were coming for me – more likely coming for her, they'd love to kill Marlene – and I looked even more insistently at her.

"Look inside your robes." She gasped, pointing her wand at me. I felt the charm hit my face, throw me backwards, and knock me unconscious. The last thing I saw was her face, confused but generous.

When I woke up, there were only ashes of the place where I'd hid. The village was empty, and some muggle flying vehicles were approaching, making a loud sound around me. I ran as fast as I could to the woods around the place, hiding behind a huge oak and breathing deeply. They probably thought I was dead.

Cursing Marlene for giving me hope and then blasting me away, I hugged myself, trying to brace my body from the cold, and accidentally slipped my hand inside one of my pockets. Marlene's last words echoed in my mind and I started searching. They were all empty, but the one over my chest had a note, written on a half – burned parchment. It was an address in the centre of London, followed by a post-scriptum:

Come unarmed and you shall be unharmed. Marlene.

My heart pounded so hard I was afraid some of the muggle officers who were searching for bodies would hear. Memorizing the address countless times, I apparated to London, hoping for the best.

The street where I appeared was shockingly urban, with trash cans rolling around serving as goals to a game some boys were playing. They shouted and kicked the ball one to the other, celebrating as it hit one of the cans, producing an annoying metal noise.

I glanced again at the address I was holding, pushing my collar closer to my neck. The sinuous stairs that led to the apartment screeched as I ran upwards, stopping by the eighth floor, panting. The wooden impersonal door was poorer and simpler than I was used to, and for a moment I doubted you could live there. God, you were born on a palace, how could you stand living in such a gray, simple place?

And to think Uncle Alphard's gold went to this.

Reluctantly, I knocked once, retreating my hand quickly in case someone busted out and killed me. No one answered, so I did it again, this time slower. I felt someone moving behind the surface, and my body went tense. A square little door opened, revealing a pair of sapphire eyes.

"Regulus?"

"Marlene?" I panted, confused. Her eyes looked relieved, and I showed the parchment. "Look, I found it."

"Answer my question."

"What?"

"I have to be sure it's really you. Which of my friends dated Amos Diggory when I was in a fifth year?"

Confusion took over my brain, which activated the moment I realized that getting that one question right would save my life. I never really paid attention to other's love lives, but this time I had to. The slim Hufflepuff appeared vividly in front of me, scratching the back of his head as he waited from a blonde pretty girl to approach. She was calling Marlene.

"Emmeline Vance." I gasped, controlling my impulse to snap my fingers. The eyes disappeared, and I heard locks being opened. Marlene stared at me and I stared at her. I didn't know how long I had been knocked out, but the only difference now was the clothes she wore. Instead of the comfortable battle outfit she was in a pair of casual jeans and a warm blouse with a low neckline forming a V, showing a golden necklace. It resembled a dog.

"Your wand." She raised her hand, and I virtually threw my wand at her, as if it was hurting my pockets. "Come on, get in."

The apartment was small, but the living room was cozy and warm. Dark couches and a wooden table made a good environment, and the fireplace had some pictures over it. The smell of tea wondered from the kitchen, giving the air a nice lemon scent. Marlene made me sit down, saying she'd grab me a cup of tea. When I was alone, I gazed at the pictures.

It was all photos of you too.

Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, a park, the centre of London, a forest. You and she smiled on every one of them, sometimes hugged, sometimes kissing. Bloody hell.

When Marlene appeared, carrying a cup and a sugar bowl, I accepted, taking a sip and pointing the pictures as matter-of-factly as I could.

"So, you're living here, then."

She shrugged, smiling shyly. "Sort of. I live here and with my parents. Your brother travels a lot."

"Is he here?" I asked, hoping for a negative. I wasn't sure of what to say or even how to act if I saw you. I didn't know how you'd react to me, or even if you'd forgive me.

Maybe you'd kill me, and do us all a favour.

Marlene nodded, leaving my sight again. I heard a knock, and the door shrieking open. Whispers, you elevated your voice, she calmed you down. The world around me blurred as I could sense your uneasiness in receiving me. Your younger brother.

Apparently Marlene won, because she smiled confidently at me as she passed straight to the kitchen. We were going to be alone, then. I was trembling as though the bloody Wizengamot was going to meet me, and when I felt you behind me, staring at the back of my head, I could do nothing but close my eyes and imagine the blow.

Instead, I sensed you sitting down on the other couch, right in front of me.

"Regulus." Your voice was hurt, harsh. I pressed my eyelids even strongly. "Too scared to look me in the bloody face?"

Breathing deeply, I slowly opened my eyes. You looked at me as you looked at Bellatrix that day, at her wedding. Proudly, despicably. I felt my guts open, and my head dizzied.

"No." I stammered, and felt humiliation as you laughed sarcastically.

"You say no and stammer. It's so you, Regulus. Marlene said you want help. What on earth is this about? Some blackmailing, threat, message? Why did he send you?"

"How did you know I-"

"You became one of them? Bellatrix told me. I was fighting her some weeks ago, and she told me you were the new acquisition. At first it surprised me, you know. I dunno, maybe I thought you weren't that low. Apparently I was mistaken."

"I want to get out." My mouth said before I could think.

"Get out? Why, aren't you enjoying killing innocent people? Muggles, muggleborns? Aren't they screaming enough?"

"Sirius." Marlene's voice came from the door, and we both turned quickly towards her. She walked slowly – and, God forgive me for the wrong timing, sexy – to you, sitting by your side and caressing your hair. So gently, so soft, that I forgot all about what I was saying. "Everyone deserves a chance."

You looked at her and then at me, your eyes becoming deeper and deeper, until they resembled two holes that inspected every inch of my soul. Even though, as you could see me, I could see you. I felt ashamed, I guess. I saw the pain – you lost lots of friends, I had heard – disappointment, anger, and something deep, I couldn't tell exactly what it was. Probably pity.

You had changed.

"So you want my help, is that it?" you sighed. I nodded, gazing from you to Marlene. "You have to give me something in return, to prove this is no such trick."

I felt something pressuring me. Why everyone needed something in return? Couldn't they just help me and keep me alone? Tired of having to give things to others, I shrugged.

"What do you want? My service, too?"

"Information, I couldn't care less about your service."

"Info-What?"

"Tell me names, plans, answer my questions, you know. I assure you the Order will give protection."

I felt so grateful you weren't asking for my soul or anything that I smiled. "I can't thank you enough, brother."

The word sort of reverberated through the whole living room, and I stared at you, feeling stupid for using such a treatment. Suddenly, you jumped beside me, looking as embarrassed as I was. We stared at each other, right in the eyes.

Then you hugged me.

The world seemed wider, even my life seemed to have a future under your protection. Relief took me over as I vomited everything I could possibly remember about the Dark Lord and his plans. You just looked amazed, probably at my disloyalty.

And so I got into a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore welcomed me warmly – he always did that, old fool – but all of your remaining friends didn't show such a good treatment. The Potters looked suspiciously, Lupin frowned.

As the reunion went by, I felt as bad as ever. All those people in there were dying, risking their lives, putting their families in safe places. For others. I felt unarmed, impotent; my hands tied as I could do nothing to show how grateful I was for the help you were giving me.

And to think I hated you.

And to think I thought Marlene would be better with me.

I felt selfish.

By the end of conversations, everybody started to apparate, but I felt an old but firm hand grasp mine.

"Can we talk, Mr. Black?" Dumbledore's eyes shone behind his glasses. I followed him back to the meeting room – in this case, you used a drawing room – and he closed the door.

What I'm about to tell you, brother, I have not told anyone before, for it's the main reason why I am about to give my life away. Our former headmaster did not linger in telling me he had an idea of a powerful dark art, something the Dark Lord could be trying to use.

Horcruxes.

You probably don't know what such objects are, but I do. There were many books sitting on the shelves at our family's many houses, and I had read enough of them to have an idea of what such evil things were. And I must confess, judging by what I had seen to that moment, they were a very reasonable supposition of what the Dark Lord could be planning.

He gave me a quick explanation about what they were – useless words, but I kept silent – and asked me if I had any clue about the Dark Lord's moves around it. I shrugged my shoulders, but inside me something grew wider, and I saw my chance to prove my new loyalty.

When I left the room, you and Marlene were waiting for me, and when we apparated to your apartment, we stared at each other for some moments.

"Well, I must be going." I announced, trying not to imagine you and her sharing the bed.

"You can't, Regulus, you're our responsibility now." You muttered, opening the door to me. I walked in surprised, and Marlene showed me the way to the office, which would work well as a bedroom. I sat on the comfortable bed, feeling lighter than when I woke up. I can't tell if I was thankful, or relieved, or even reluctant. My head was heavy with sleep.

"Night, Reg." she whispered, combing my hair with her hands softly. My body went mad at her touch, shivering and awaking spots I didn't remember having other utilities besides normal bodily functions. Her lips touched my cheek, but this time my arm was faster. I gripped her wrist.

"I should've told you." My tongue said against my will, taking advantage of my sleepy mind to release all the truth I held for years. "Since Hogwarts. I love you."

"You've been through some hard things today, Reg, you should sleep."

"No!" I gripped harder, and she sat right in front of me. "Please. Why is it so hard to look at me?"

"It's not. Maybe in another world, Reg… But not now, not in this. We both owe your brother much."

Her words made me let her go. After all, she was right; I did owe you some things. My life, for instance. I lowered my head, tucking into the pillow. I heard when she sighed, leaving me in the dark.

I spent a week living in your apartment, trying to help with whatever I could around the house. Obviously it wasn't much – I still don't know a thing about housework, Kreacher always did this kind of job. – But Marlene had a good laugh at me when I tried, so I kept going.

On the background, though, I was using the entire network I had to try to find out about horcruxes. Letters were sent, lies were told. Bellatrix was the one to send me the first useful word about the matter, warning that when I came back from exile – that's where I told her I was, exile in France after a confrontation with aurors – I talked to Kreacher, because the Dark Lord was in need of a good house-elf.

Why on earth he would need something like that, I replied, and she said He was building something and needed some non-wizardry creature to test it. I said I'd call Kreacher, and by the end of the week I had to betray you for the first time.

I left.

Arriving at the Grimmauld Place, two months ago now, I noticed things hadn't changed. Father was getting weaker every day, and I sort of hoped he'd die soon. Perhaps mother would stay quiet for a while without him. I talked Kreacher into this, and he obeyed. I knew he would, I was all he had left also.

He went away to serve the Dark Lord, just like me.

Hiding in my bedroom, I waited for him to come back, but several hours passed and not a sight of him. I began to feel uncomfortable, a bad feeling forming on my stomach. The fact that he was sent by the Dark Lord to do any errand was unsettling for itself, let alone my best friend.

You may growl whatever you want, Sirius, but he is. He was more of a friend than any human being. He valued me more than mother, father or even you. He was never here for pity, or duty. And there was I, repaying him with some evil mission.

Ignoring the probability of being tortured, I called him back loudly, knowing he had to obey me.

"MASTER!" His voice gasped as I saw him crawling on the floor, wet as a fish, his skin greenish and trembling with cold. I widened my eyes, kneeling before him and taking off the pillow he wore, using my own towel to dry his thin body.

"What happened?" I asked, but Kreacher wouldn't say a word, shaking his head uncontrollably.

"Can't tell, Kreacher can't tell!"

"Kreacher, don't make me order you." I heard myself saying, out of my mind. I was getting sick, and had to run for the toilet to throw the breakfast away. When I came back he was sitting on my bed, wearing his pillow again, the big eyes turned all the way to the floor.

"Forgive Kreacher, master Regulus." He muttered, gazing upwards. I looked at him, but my eyes caught the sight of myself on the big mirror on the wall. I was as pale as he was, my eyes deep on its orbits, scared with madness. My head was still dizzy, and around me I could sense the walls falling apart. The old portraits melting to the floor, dripping their colours on a stained carpet. Mold taking over every doorknob. I barely saw when the elf went away, disappearing in the house.

The next month went blank. I can't remember what I did or saw, the only episode engraved on my head being father's death. His cold body was taken away by some ministry clerks, who stayed as little as they could inside Grimmauld 12. Even I wanted to vanish, let alone them.

Then there was I, alone with mother and Kreacher. You didn't ask me to come back, I've never heard news of you or Marlene since I left. Now, here am I, calling Kreacher again.

"Sorry it took me so long, Kreacher." I sigh as I put the quill down, looking at the amount of things I had written. He looks at me reluctantly, and I know he knows what I want to ask him again. "Tell me what happened that night."

The tale he tells me is the most unbelievable and yet truthful I've even heard. I can picture the cave, the lake full of inferius, and the golden cup. My task is clear to me, as it should always be. That is, after all, my destiny.

My first, last and only act of honor.

Glancing around, I look at my cloak, which I put it on before pointing to Kreacher.

"You will take me to this place. I'll do whatever it takes to get this cup, make a copy of it and as soon as you get your hands in it, come back here and destroy it. Was I clear?'

"Yes, master."

"Don't look back, don't return, not even if my life is at stake. You have to destroy the cup."

"But, sir…"

"Kreacher, it's an order."

"Yes, Master.'

Returning to my desk, I take a new parchment to write my last note, and the unfinished letter I had been writing catches my sight. Stuffing the note in my pocket, I take the letter back.

So, brother, I'm about to leave. I have found a horcrux, and intend to destroy it. That's why I believe death is fast approaching me. The Dark Lord will never forgive me for doing such, but I hope my actions will lead to something better in the future.

Forgive me for running, for hating you, for wanting Marlene. Forgive me for not being your brother, for letting others take my part in your life. And forgive me for not telling you about this earlier. Thank you for being generous when I needed.

Please forgive me,

R. A. B

I roll everything and wrap with a bow I find sitting on a corner, dusty and half eaten by termites. It's black and discreet, and I let if sitting there.

Kreacher takes me to a cave with a cursed entrance, where I have to take my blood to pass. Kreacher shrieks at every step we take, but the only time I tremble in when we step on the boat, which starts to float towards the little island in the middle of the huge, murky lake.

There's only this bowl over it, covered to the top with a transparent potion, which lets me see the golden cup sitting on the deep. Using my wand, I make up a cup, giving the note to Kreacher and making a toast.

The first sip burns my throat, as the firewhisky did at the evening of my marking.

The first cup almost drowns me. The air is getting thicker, harder to breathe. Somewhere behind my back I can heard Kreacher whispering something, but I can't hear him.

The Second Cup makes me shiver, images of you laughing in our childhood crawling to my head. You mocked me, loudly, and I have to catch my breath sometimes.

The Third Cup is a strong one, making my knees crumble down, hitting the rock. My trousers get ripped, and I can sense the blood running from the spot where my flesh hit the hard pointy surface.

The fourth cup has to be brought to me by Kreacher, who sobs a little. I can't tell it precisely, though. My ears have gone away, the images of you and Marlene together popping in and out my mind. I stand in the dark, crying silently.

The fifth cup is like a drug, and all my limbs go numb. I can't feel my legs anymore, and something wet gets to my ankles. I hadn't noticed I was slipping down the rock.

The sixth cup is the penultimate, and I hear Kreacher screaming from a far. I want to make him come back, so I call him loudly, ordering him to give me the last one. Thick tears pop out my eyes. I start sobbing for no specific reason, my body twisting itself into a fetal position. I shiver and tremble, and the last cup drives me completely out of the world.

Through my senseless legs I can feel a hand touching me, and I smile. It must be Marlene, regretful. The hand enlaces my ankle, pulling me closer. I feel my legs getting wetter, followed by my waist and chest.

When the water reaches my neck, however, I realize I'm drowning. The blood in my mouth indicated my chin hit the rock as they pulled me into that pool of bodies, and I swallow it bravely, thinking of everyone that has seen me alive.

And all the others who wouldn't.

I think about father, who's probably a lot happier wherever he is.

I think about mother, who is so deep inside her head that won't notice my absence.

I think about Sirius, who probably regretted having helped me, and blames my future to myself.

I think about Dumbledore, who will probably be proud of the choice I've made.

I think about Marlene, who will be the only one to shed a tear for my death.

I think about Kreacher, who will get scared when I'm gone.

I think about Bellatrix, who will be embarrassed of my stupidity.

And I think about Voldemort, who will go mad when he sees my words:

To the Dark Lord,

I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will me mortal once more.

R.A.B