As Regulus came to his senses, he realised something quite absurd. If one of the three spirits chose Narcissa's appearance and another chose Andromeda's, it was only logical that the last ghost be his last cousin.

The floorboards started to shake, and the dust beneath it unsettled itself moving like tar to form a body Regulus recognised and that shook him to his core. He recognised it from books and stories. Much worse than his cousin. The last spirit was Death itself.

It wore a dark black cloak, which could not be distinguished from its body. The cloak reminded him of unpleasant things, but he supposed that that was what Death did, and if there was anyone to be unsettled by Death it would be him, espicially with the things he'd seen. It was as tall as the room, and it seemed that everything about it was stretched to be longer. Its only body parts not covered by the cloak were its hands, they were thin, abnormally long and like the rest of it made of some kind of tar like substance.

"You must be the Ghost of Christmas Future," Regulus said, but Death did not respond. "What will you make me see?"

Slowly, slowly, it raised its index finger towards Regulus' closet door. The door had black mist flowing out between its cracks. Regulus left his bed and went towards the door. He opened it and was met with a black void. Nothingness for infinity. Before he could turn back he felt a large thin hand push him into the darkness.

He arrived back in the house's living room, though it was not the same as it once was. The room was wobbly as if he wasn't really supposed to be there. It seemed that someone had removed all dark objects from the room, and since the Black home was almost intirely filled with Black objects the room felt quite bare. Or maybe not bare-vulnerable.

"You're on here!"

Regulus heard a young voice, and somehow he knew exactly where it was coming from. He went there despite himself and when arrived in the room with the tapestry the world wasn't wobbly anymore. Sirius stood there, looking even worse for wear. The war had most likely ended years ago and somehow Sirius still found a way to look dirty and depressing. At that point it must just be part of his style.

"I used to be there," Sirius pointed to where he had been burnt off the tapestry, Regulus remembered watching as the flames danced until they went out. "My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home-Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."

"You ran away from home?"

Regulus noticed the other person in the room, the one he'd heard in the first and immediately knew that he must be the Potters' son. He looked so alike to him. Sirius went on about why he ran away. Regulus thought it was ironic, how a Black had sought sanctuary with the Potters and now the Potters presumably were all staying in their home. He was brought back to Sirius when he heard mention of himself.

"My idiot brother, soft enough to believe them… that's him," he gestured to where Regulus was stitched on the tapestry. Regulus looked and his eyes widened. Beneath his face read:
Regulus Arcturus Black
(1961-1979)

So he would die when he went to the lake, at least he'd die for the cause. He swallowed, it was a sacrifice he was willing to take. As Death loomed over his shoulder, he went back to listening to his brother's conversation, eyes fixed on the tapestry.

"Yeah. Stupid idiot… he joined the Death Eaters."

Regulus expected him to be angry at him for joining the Death Eaters, but he really just seemed sad. Sirius pitied him, and shouldn't he have the right, he was the one still alive.

"You're kidding!" the Potter boy exclaimed.

How could this boy, Harry he heard his brother call him, be so surprised that a Black was a Death Eater? Was the war so over and done with that pureblood families weren't even recognised as prejudiced?

Sirius responded appropriately bitter, if Regulus could say so himself. Regulus went on to ignore the conversation for a little while looking at the tapestry. His mother died, which was probably best for everyone. Bellatrix was still alive, but had had no children, which meant the last remnants of the black line were Andromeda's child and Narcissa's only child, Draco Malfoy, the tapestry read. The Noble and Ancient House of Black would fizzle out silently, not with a bang or anything flashy or dramatic. It made Regulus smile.

"Was he killed by an Auror?" the boy asked.

"Oh, no. No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely; I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out-"

Regulus froze. His brother didn't know. He wasn't going to do it for glory, but to his brother he'd always be remembered falsely. He wondered whether or not his brother was able to hate him now.

Death raised its hand and waved it through the air and the room wobbled and they were in the dining room. It was filled with people laughing and talking. The room was dominated by red heads. Weasleys. His mother would scream at all the people who Sirius had let in her home. He saw Andromeda's daughter talking with Sirius, laughing in a completely undignified way, unencumbered by needless societal rules.

Then he heard the whispers, it was as if they were amplified, and they were all about one thing: the War. The War? Wasn't it over? They spoke of it as if it was a present event. Of He-Who-Must-the Dark-Voldemort's return. Regulus' skin went cold and he turned towards Death with a chilling rage.

"It isn't over?!" he yelled. "I sacrificed myself for nothing. The war isn't even over. It's all starting again!"

He laughed bitterly. What a future this was. A Christmas Party as one of the most evil wizards of all time returned.

"What was I to learn? That the fight is pointless? That we can't win? How many more deaths have ocured?" he asked, increasingly louder. He screamed into Death's face, "How am I supposed to live when I know it leads to this?"

Death raised its hand again and pointed at the merry people, at the children. Regulus felt sick. All the adults had probably fought in the war before, and the children… what of the children on the other side? What about his nephew Draco? What would happen to him?

"No more war talk," Andromeda's child said. "Let's party!"

"Remus!" his brother said. He beamed.

Regulus followed his eyes and there was Lupin from before. He smiled shyly and walked towards Sirius. They spoke like before, even though all their friends were gone because of the war. Still they were happy, why?

His brother threw his head back in a dog-like laugh, his arm over Lupin's shoulder, and it was like a switch went off in his brain. Oh..

He wanted their lives to move forward. He looked at the children who would have to live during a war too, and wanted to stop it from happening again so strongly he was almost surprised by his passion for it. He wanted a future where pureblood names meant nothing. He wanted a future where children wouldn't know war. He wanted a future where his brother would remember him fondly, or hopefully not have to remember him because they'd both be alive.

Then everything went black.