Beater 2, Wigtown Wanderers QLFC Season 10
Main Prompt: The Stand, Taking a stand against power/institution and fleeing from something inescapable.
Optional Prompts: 2.[theme] forgiveness, 12. [plot point] a character descending into madness, and 13.[colour] red
Word Count: 1824
Warnings: death, torture, emotional manipulation, blood
~wWw~
As much as people may think there is good magic and evil magic, they are wrong. Magic cares not for the spells you cast but rather for the intentions you hold. You could use a simple severing curse to cut a piece of parchment or, if aimed correctly, to end someone's life.
~wWw~
As he kneeled before the pale-skinned man his mother called Master, Regulus Black shivered. Blacks kneel to no one. His father's words echoed in his head, yet here he was, under orders from his mother, kneeling.
"Rise, young Black," the Dark Lord whispered, his voice carrying far further than it had any right.
Regulus rose to his feet, not a movement wasted. He kept his head bowed in what looked like a respectful move but was instead to hide the conflicting emotions racing through his eyes, "My Lord, you honour me."
The Dark Lord chucked, a deeply disturbing sound starkly contrasting the warmth of Regulus's father. From behind him, Regulus watched as his crazed cousin, Bellatrix, led out a family of Muggles, he assumed, not recognizing any of them. His heart sank as he realised what was coming next.
"Dispose of them, make it…" the Dark Lord paused, "entertaining." Regulus raised his wand with a shaking hand, the ridges familiar beneath his lithe fingers. He could feel himself folding and bending to the twisted will of the Dark Lord.
"Crucio!" The word seemed to bleed from his mouth. Pain. Suffering. He was nothing like Sirius. Nothing like the rashness of his brother that had left him bleeding. Red staining the floor of his family home. No scrubbing Kreacher could ever do would remove the deep burgundy red from the floor, almost reminiscent of Gryffindor red. Blood that ran as his mother tried to bleed the Gryffindor from his stubborn older brother. Why couldn't he just give in? Why did he have to fight? The blood, dark red, constantly filled his mind. Always bringing him back to that night. The calm before the storm and the explosion after.
His brother would never forgive him for this, and their rocky relationship would never recover. This was something it could never recover from. Sirius was too brash. He would never understand why Regulus made this choice. For Sirius, the world was black and white, everything was either good or bad, but Regulus knew better. The world is not black and white. Rather, it is varying shades of grey.
~wWw~
His reflection in the mirror haunted him. The light he once saw sparkling in his eyes was gone, extinguished by the horrors of the Dark Lord. He had failed. Red stained his skin. He scrubbed and scrubbed, but the red never left his hands. It lingered, unyielding, unrelenting.
His brother would be so disappointed in him. His bright, brash Gryffindor brother. Unafraid of the horrors of the Dark Lord. The horrors that filled his younger brother's life.
Regulus wanted to run, to hide. But he wasn't Sirius. He wasn't strong or brave like his brother. He didn't have that bright boldness that empowered his brother to stand against everything he knew, even at the risk of watching his blood run red from his veins.
The youngest Black crumpled to his knees, shaking. He was nothing. Nothing like the strong Black he should be. Nothing like his brave older brother. He was a failure in every sense of the word.
Regulus wanted to run, but there was nowhere he could go. The dark mark staining his skin excluded half the population from him, and his disdain for the mark excluded the other half. He was trapped, unable to run. Unable to hide.
~wWw~
"I require a house-elf," the Dark Lord said, looking directly at Regulus with his unnaturally red eyes.
"The House of Black would gladly allow you to borrow Kreacher," Regulus spoke.
"Good. Good, send him to me tomorrow as the sun sets."
"Yes, my lord."
~wWw~
"Kreacher, tomorrow you are going to be of service to the Dark Lord. Represent House Black well. Return to me when you are done," Regulus spoke, feeling the magic surrounding the pair bind the old house-elf to his orders.
"Yes, Master," Kreacher responded, his head bowed respectfully.
"That is all, Kreacher. You may return to your tasks." The house-elf disappeared with an almost silent pop, leaving Regulus alone. These days, Regulus always seemed alone unless he was at the revels. He despised the revels. So much unnecessary pain, the pain of innocents. At least the Order members weren't completely innocent. They killed many a Death Eater in their own right. But the screams of the innocent Muggles, who had no clue of the world of magic, haunted his every waking moment. Their bright red blood stained his very soul.
~wWw~
"Kreacher, what happened?" Regulus asked, the worry evident in his tone. His house-elf, who had left perfectly healthy, was now dehydrated and appeared to be on death's doorstep.
"Kreacher followed Master Regulus's orders."
"Aguamenti!" Regulus spoke, commanding his magic. Water spurted out into the cup Regulus kept by his bedside. "Here, drink."
Kreacher drank greedily from the cup. Slurping down the cold water his master had given him. Regulus summoned a Wiggendweld potion, giving it to Kreacher, who gratefully drank it. At this, the colour finally returned to the old house-elf.
"What happened?" Regulus demanded, his previously kind demeanour disappearing in the blink of an eye.
"The Dark Lord brought Kreacher to a cavern. Kreacher's blood was used to open a door. Kreacher apparated the Dark Lord across to an island. Then Kreacher was forced to drink. Drink a terrible potion. It burned Kreacher's throat. But the Dark Lord forced Kreacher to continue until the basin was empty. The Dark Lord put a locket inside the basin. It was filled with dark magic. Dark, dark magic. Then the Dark Lord left, and Kreacher returned to Master Regulus."
Regulus opened his mouth to speak but struggled to find the words. There had been whispers, but no… it couldn't be true. His mouth opened, but still, no sound came out. Had he really done it? Torn his soul? Regulus closed his mouth, stealing his features.
"You will speak of this to no one," he demanded, watching Kreacher leave the room with a tiny pop. The Dark Lord has a Horcrux.
~wWw~
"Regulus, glad you could make it," the Dark Lord said, singling him out as he tried to sneak into the room unnoticed.
"My apologies, my lord. Dumbledore was following me," Regulus spoke.
"I assume you dealt with him?"
"Yes, my lord," Regulus said, a tiny chill running up his back.
He fought the urge to shiver, to break character, and was relieved when the Dark Lord looked away. Regulus turned to the hopeless Muggles on the ground before them, already shaking from the pain the others had inflicted. Pushing down the tiny amount of remorse rising inside him, he raised his wand.
"Crucio!"
The spell came quickly to him, much easier than it had in the past. He found himself smiling at the struggling Muggles as they vainly tried to escape from him. For the first time, he could find the amusement his fellow Death Eaters found.
~wWw~
"Kreacher!" Regulus called, summoning the house-elf to him. "I need you to acquire a locket, exactly like the one housing the Horcrux."
"Yes, Master," Kreacher replied, bowing, then Apparating away as Regulus dismissed him.
Kreacher didn't take long to return with a replica of the locket. A locket Regulus recognised immediately. Quickly summoning a scrap of parchment and a quill, Regulus wrote a quick note before placing it in the locket.
To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this.
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 be mortal once more.
R.A.B.
Maybe Regulus had chosen the wrong side, but maybe he could atone for his mistakes. With that, hopefully, one day, his older brother would forgive him.
"Bring me to the island," Regulus demanded, thoughts of his brother bringing him courage.
With only a moment's hesitation, Kreacher grabbed his master's hand and apparated them to the Dark Lord's island.
"Kreacher can't bring you inside the cave. Blood is needed to open the cave."
Regulus carefully used the tip of his wand to split open his hand, wiping the blood across the door. He could feel it absorbing his magic. The bright red blood slowly darkened to a deep maroon. Regulus followed Kreacher into the cavern and over the rocks. The pair made their way onto the rickety wooden boat, which brought them across the lake and to the island. In the centre of the island was a large crystal basin, in the middle of which was Salazar Slytherin's locket.
"Kreacher, I need you to force me to drink. Do not allow me to stop. Swap the lockets, then destroy it."
"Master, let Kreacher drink the potion," Kreacher begged.
"No, I will drink the potion."
Regulus summoned a cup and began to drink the potion. At first, everything seemed fine. It didn't taste great, but he didn't feel any of the effects yet. That quickly changed.
Everything seemed to swim in front of him. Kreacher flickered in and out of his vision. His insides began to burn. Everything hurt. His head spun.
"Don't let me stop drinking," Regulus begged.
Kreacher reluctantly refilled the cup, carefully bringing it to Regulus's mouth, forcing him to drink. Regulus's throat burned, and the liquid seemed to scratch at it rather than soothe.
"Please, water. Water," Regulus whimpered.
"You must keep drinking, Master," Kreacher spoke as he poured more liquid down Regulus's throat. "One more cup."
"Last one?" Regulus asked, his voice breaking. Burning pain flooded his body.
"Last one," Kreacher confirmed as he slowly tilted Regulus's head, pouring the liquid down his throat, forcing him to swallow.
As soon as it was gone, Kreacher swapped the two lockets. In doing so, he missed Regulus crawling down to the lakeside where he cupped his hands and filled them with water. A cold hand reached out and grabbed him.
"Kreacher, return home, destroy the locket!" Regulus shouted in a moment of lucidity as he was dragged beneath the surface. Regulus clawed at the hands that pulled him under, trying to escape.
Kreacher took one last look at his master before the Black magic forced him to return to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
Regulus was pulled deeper and deeper beneath the surface, unable to escape. He sunk to the bottom like a waterlogged paper ship. It was inevitable that he would die. Paper and water never mix well. He was just glad he had succeeded. Kreacher would destroy the Horcrux. He just hoped that Sirius would forgive him for his mistakes.