Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, themes, ect. are copyrighted to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. No infringment is intended.

An ancient grandfather clock bonged somewhere in the dark and musty building of Grimmauld Place. Regulus rolled over on his bed, unable to sleep, as its deep chimes reverberated through the house. He was becoming increasingly anxious with every hour that passed by. How much longer would it be until he'd feel the familiar burning sensation on his left arm? Then he had a sickening thought: What if something went wrong tonight? What would happen if they arrived at their destination and found nothing?

Finally giving up his attempt to get some rest, Regulus grabbed a silver mask from underneath his mattress and slipped out of bed. He quietly opened his door and made his way down the dimly lit hallway and the dust-covered staircase. As he entered the kitchen, a faint noise made him jump and he turned around.

"Where is Master Regulus going at this time of night?"

Two large, yellow eyes were watching him from the shadows at the bottom of the staircase.

"I have to leave in a little bit, Kreacher," Regulus replied as the house-elf stepped into view. "I'm only waiting for the Dark Lord's signal."

"Does young Master want Kreacher to tell the Mistress?"

"No, I've already told mother and father that I will be gone tonight."

"Yes, Master," Kreacher gave a deep bow, his long nose and bat-like ears almost

touching the floor. "Kreacher shall await young Master's return."

He shuffled back upstairs, leaving Regulus alone in the room.

Regulus began to pace around the kitchen, the mask still clutched in his hand. As the minutes passed, he eventually grew tired of this, and decided to take a seat on one of the chairs at the table. He yawned and slipped his mask into a pocket in his robe…

…He was running down a narrow tunnel…the ceiling hung dangerously low, and he struggled to see through the thick darkness surrounding him. His heart racing, he threw a nervous glance over his shoulder. He had the sick feeling that something was chasing him, and he gripped his wand harder. But try as he might, he couldn't seem to reach the end of the path—the faster and harder he ran, the farther away the door became.

A sharp growl sounded behind him, and he swung around, wand at the ready. He gasped in a mixture of shock and fear as he caught sight of his pursuer: a large black dog with glowing, orange eyes. With a horrible snarl, the canine leapt at him, teeth bared—

Regulus jerked awake, nearly toppling off of his chair. For a terrifying second, he half expected to see the animal's eyes glinting at him from the shadows where Kreacher had stood, but then, much to his relief, he realized the whole thing had been a dream.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake…

…Now Regulus was hurrying along a dark hedge maze…He hurtled through foggy and winding paths, desperately searching for the way out. His breath rose up in clouds of white vapor and the beating of his heart pounded in his ears. Turning a corner ahead, he found himself looking up at a wall of thorny branches. He backed out of the dead end to retrace his steps. It was then that he saw it.

Standing before him, as black as night, was a Grim.

Regulus froze as the dog's gaze met with his, and for a tense moment they both stood motionless. Being careful not to make any sudden movements, Regulus slowly lowered his arm so that he could grab his wand from inside his robes. The creature's eyes shifted, following his motion suspiciously.

As his fingers found the wand's hard, wooden handle, the dog pounced. Regulus cried out in pain as its sharp teeth ripped through his sleeve, clamping down on his left arm--

He opened his eyes and flung his right hand over the area that the animal had bitten in his dream. Strangely, it was burning, even though he was sure he wide-awake. Regulus rolled up his sleeve to make certain there were no puncture marks, but the only thing he saw was the jet-black tattoo of a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth…The Dark Mark…it was burning…

He suddenly leapt up out of his chair, this time knocking it over.

"The signal!"

Regulus hastily crossed the room and, reaching the front door, flung it open. He strode down the steps and Disapparated with a whirl of his cloak.

With a loud CRACK, he appeared on a grassy hilltop overlooking a row of quaint, little cottages. All around him, others were arriving, forming a vast ring that fanned along the crest of the embankment. Voldemort stood in the middle of the assemblage, waiting in silence as the last of the Death Eaters filled in the remaining gaps.

As Regulus joined the group, he noticed that many of them kept peering over in his direction. Feeling slightly annoyed and uncomfortable by this, he returned the sidelong glances, but the others quickly looked away as if nothing had happened.

Rookwood was the final member to take his place in the gathering, and he hurried forward, clearly flustered and out of breath.

"—My Lord, I couldn't—" he panted, "—There was a mishap in the Department and they sent for me to fix it—I couldn't monitor any of the systems—I tried to—"

Voldemort held up a hand, and the man fell silent.

"Relax, Rookwood," said Voldemort. "I do not blame you—there is nothing else you could have done without jeopardizing your position at the Ministry."

"Yes, Master," Rookwood swallowed, his voice hoarse with relief. "I was just afraid that I had caused more complications by not being able to do my job…"

"No, as it stands, everything is going according to plan…Young Barty Crouch here,"—a teenage boy to Regulus' left bowed in recognition—"has managed to locate the Order's current base."

The Dark Lord directed their attention toward one of the small, white houses near the end of the street. Its front yard was bathed in moonlight, and its windows were as dark as the night sky overhead.

Voldemort began to move along the inside of the circle, glancing at each of the Death Eaters in turn. For some, he paused and spoke to them, but others he passed in complete silence.

"What about you, Regulus?" asked Voldemort, stopping in front of him. "Are you sure you are ready for this?"

Regulus blinked, slightly taken aback. Was that why the other Death Eaters had been watching him? They didn't think he could do it--that he wasn't experienced enough…?

"I-I don't know what you mean, My Lord," he said.

"Your mask, Regulus."

It was then that Regulus realized, much to his embarrassment, that his mask was still lying inside his pocket, forgotten. He hastily pulled it out amid several bursts of laughter.

"Enough, enough," Voldemort said, and the circle became quiet once again. "The meeting should have started by now, and we mustn't keep the Order waiting…"

Regulus followed the others as they slipped down the side of the hill and streamed across the deserted road. There were no streetlights nearby, but the bright moon and twinkling stars were like beacons, lighting their path ahead.

"Stop."

They came to an abrupt halt on the edge of the frost-covered lawn, and those who were standing in the middle of the group parted, stepping over to the side so that their master could pass. Voldemort strode ahead of them and raised his wand, aiming it at the exterior of the house.

There was a resounding bang, and the front door buckled inward, falling to the ground in a shower of splinters. With cries and shouts of wicked excitement, the Death Eaters stormed over the threshold and into a large foyer.

Before Regulus could get a good look at the room, a door at the end of the hallway opened, and chaos erupted around him. He heard someone yell, "Death Eaters!" and he ducked as a curse went flying over his shoulder, missing him by centimeters.

Regulus whipped around and felt his heart skip a beat. Standing before him, wand raised threateningly, was none other than his own brother, Sirius Black.