Wigtown Wanderers, Beater 2

Prompt: going solo

Additional Prompts: [colour] Grey; [number] Seven; [quote] 'War didn't care for carefully laid plans' — Wicked Saints, by Emily A. Duncan

WC: 2057

Warnings: brief mentions of child abuse and canon torture

Author's Note: I've always found Regulus fascinating. I've wondered what exactly turned him from the dark and caused him to go after the locket. I don't really explore that here, but I try to keep him in that transitional mindset. He switches back and forth between "the Dark Lord" and "Voldemort" because that's how Regulus thinks of him at this time during his life. He's partly the Dark Lord, a man to be followed and feared, and partly Voldemort, an enemy to be taken down. Hope that prevents any confusion!

The Path to Gray

Regulus stared disbelievingly at Kreacher. "Let me see if I understand this correctly: the Dark Lord brought you to a cave, forced you to drink a potion that caused you immense pain, and refilled the basin with the same potion. Then he rowed across a lake filled with dead people and left you there to die."

"Yes, Master Regulus," the old house elf croaked. Regulus had offered him a pain potion, but he'd declined. House elf magic would heal him quickly anyway.

"Curious. Very curious." Regulus conjured a glass and filled it with water from the tip of his wand before passing it to Kreacher. The elf drank greedily as Regulus inspected him for any sign of physical damage. None. Thoughts churned in his mind. The Dark Lord rarely did things without a purpose, and he only injured people for personal pleasure when he was angry. He would have had Kreacher drink the potion for a reason. There had to be more to the story than Kreacher told him.

"Thank you, Master. Master Regulus is so kind."

"Yes, yes, Kreacher," Regulus said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Clearly the first round of potion was a test run, and the second flask was to replace it. But why was he replacing it?

"Was there anything else, Kreacher?" he urged. "Anything at all you remember about what the Dark Lord did."

Kreacher thought for a moment, and then his eyes lit up. "Kreacher saw the Dark Lord put something in the basin before he emptied the second flask."

So the potion was protecting something. Regulus leaned back in his leather office chair and glanced around his room as he considered this new information. He and Kreacher were the only two to know about their excursion tonight. The Dark Lord clearly needed to protect something, something he didn't want even his most trusted Death Eaters to know about.

Of course he wouldn't have shared this with Regulus. Surely the Dark Lord had heard the other Death Eaters' whispers—and there were whispers. Some realized that Regulus had become disillusioned with his role as a Death Eater, with the message and mission of Lord Voldemort as a whole. Though he wasn't Sirius, who'd become a Potter in all but name, he wasn't as dark as his family name either. No, he was gray. Not really dark, not really light. He no longer wanted the pureblood supremacy or magical empire he'd touted in his younger years. He just wanted a world where he was free to live life on his own terms by any means necessary. Completely and utterly in the gray area.

A raspy voice pulled him from his thoughts. "And Kreacher thinks he heard a word, but Kreacher doesn't know what it means."

Regulus sat up. "What did it sound like, Kreacher?"

The elf tugged at his ears. "Hurks? Hark-es? Horkses? Kreacher isn't sure, Master. Kreacher must go iron his hands, sir!"

"Don't, Kreacher," Regulus said sternly. "You've done more than was asked of you already. Now come with me to the library. We've got work to do."

Regulus slipped from his room, grateful for the late hour. His parents were fast asleep. With Kreacher's help, he would have plenty of time to search the vast Black library for horkses or anything else that sounded similar. What could the Dark Lord be protecting?

The sun was threatening the horizon when Regulus reached the section of Secrets of the Darkest Art that contained the word "horcrux". According to the book, a horcrux was a soul container meant to hold part of a person's essence so that they couldn't be killed. This had to be it; it was the only thing that made sense. Regulus read through the description of the process, and bile rose in his throat. Then a far more terrifying thought flashed through his mind.

"Kreacher, does the word 'horcrux' sound right?"

"That's it!" the elf said, looking as though he might actually smile for once.

"Good. Now this part is important, Kreacher. Did he say 'horcrux'? Or did he say 'horcruxes'?"

The elf shifted his weight back and forth as he thought. "Kreacher is sure the Dark Lord said 'horkses'. More than one."

Regulus' stomach dropped to his shoes. "Thank you, Kreacher. That will be all."

The elf disappeared, and Regulus sat back, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. Of course the Dark Lord would be paranoid enough to make multiple horcruxes. The question now was how many? He had to think like Voldemort.

The Dark Lord was obsessed with being magical and anything that held a lot of or a particularly strong magic. Seven was the most powerful number, magically speaking. Regulus choked on his own breath. Would the Dark Lord really have split his soul into seven pieces? He could feel the truth of it in his gut like a stone, hard and heavy and so very sure. Six horcruxes, seven pieces of soul.

Regulus fought the urge to put his head between his knees. What was he supposed to do? Six horcruxes, made of unknown objects in unknown locations. It was too much for one person to tackle. He needed to call in reinforcements, but he had no idea where to start. Well, that wasn't quite true.

As the first rays of light slipped through the heavy velvet curtains, Regulus tip-toed back to his room and ducked into his closet. He rummaged around in his old school trunk and pulled out a crystal ball. His father had beaten him bloody when Regulus had informed his parents that he would be taking Divination, and it was one of the few times he'd had the courage to stand his ground against his father. But he hadn't really had a choice.

Regulus nestled the ball on a rolled up jumper and stared down at his reflection for a moment. His gray eyes were tired but bright with anticipation. He lightly touched the glassy surface, and the stone hummed to life beneath his fingertips, sparkling even in the dim light of the closet. It felt so right.

From a young age, Regulus had seen things that others couldn't. Not the future, not really. Just bits of it, like a series of stepping stones that faded into the distance. If he stopped and concentrated hard, he could see the consequences of his choices, and sometimes even the choices after that. They branched out before him like a series of rivers or the roots of a tree, sometimes spreading far from each other, sometimes coming back to intertwine again, sometimes… sometimes stopping altogether. The Divination classes at Hogwarts had helped him hone his skills. Now, with the help of a crystal ball and some peace and quiet, he could clearly see the consequences for each course of action he was considering for many steps down the path. It always left him exhausted and with a terrible headache, so he rarely used his gift. This, however, seemed like a necessary occasion.

As Regulus carefully considered all the people he could ask for help with the horcruxes, six glowing lines appeared in his mind.

First was Sirius. He knew his brother would be more than happy to help hunt down pieces of Voldemort's soul to protect his friends and bring the war to an end. But every iteration of the path on which he asked Sirius for help got his brother killed, all in vain. Sometimes it was by a horcrux, sometimes a Death Eater, sometimes the Dark Lord himself. Regulus wouldn't bring eminent doom to his family.

Next was Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. The headmaster was trustworthy but distrustful. Regulus' heart sank as he realized the old man would wait too long and keep the information completely secret while he himself backed up Regulus' claim. By the time he moved past his caution, the Dark Lord would be too powerful to stop. Not an option here.

He could go to the DMLE, but he saw that path was pretty much a straight line to prison and then death at the hand of the Dark Lord after he took over. Nobody would believe the Death Eater until it was much too late. Bloody bureaucracy.

Regulus considered going to Mad-Eye Moody, one of the Head Aurors personally, but the path didn't look good either. Mad-Eye was too cautious for his own good and would blow away anyone with a Dark Mark that got within 50 feet of him. Unless he was hunting them, of course. Then he'd arrest them and pass them off to some low level Auror for questioning. With the Ministry's current state of affairs, the Auror's report would likely go in a giant pile of paperwork that would be signed off on without ever being read. Vital information on the destruction of Voldemort would sit in the Ministry archives gathering dust while he rotted away in Azkaban and the Dark Lord took over the world. No thank you.

The press was always an option, especially with such a sensational story. It would be front page news, and every department of the Ministry would be jumping at the chance to either defeat Voldemort or save face. However, the path he saw had a pretty clear outcome: the Dark Lord would move the only horcrux Regulus was even sure of, and then he would kill him. Even worse than the current status quo.

The last path was the most efficient. It was also the most sobering. Regulus could take out this horcrux by himself and leave the rest to whoever else figured out Voldemort's secret. He could have Kreacher take him to the cave and pour the potion down his throat. He could take the locket from the basin and leave behind a replacement with a note about horcruxes inside it. He could leave Kreacher with orders to destroy the locket at all costs. It wasn't ideal, but it was the only option that left Regulus certain that one of the horcruxes would be out of the Dark Lord's hands. It was the best he could do.

Regulus felt the pressure behind his eyes intensify. He needed to step away from the crystal ball, but he had a nagging feeling that he was overlooking something important.

He snorted lightly. It was probably just his subconscious reeling at the thought of leaving important work for someone else to do. If you want something done right, do it yourself, his father always said. What he would give to be able to do all of this himself.

As that thought ran through this mind, a seventh path appeared. It was faint, but it was definitely there.

This path saw Regulus taking on the task completely alone. He saw himself researching the potion in the basin, and the next stepping stone saw him ensconced in the Black family library as well as the Hogwarts library for several weeks. Then the line forked, and a few of those possible decisions saw him holding a mangled locket. The path continued to split, offering a myriad of possible decisions to follow. Some branches still ended in death or imprisonment, but some branches just kept leading to new possible outcomes, stretching on and on until it faded from his Sight.

Regulus' heart soared at the thought. He could do it. He could really take out the Dark Lord's horcruxes, and he might even survive the ordeal or, bloody hell, the entire war. He just needed a plan. A really really really good plan.

Another admonishment of his father's rang in his ears. "War didn't care for carefully laid plans."

He almost chuckled at the thought. War may not care for most people's carefully laid plans, but then he wasn't most people. He was smart. He was crafty. Most importantly, he had the ability to see ten steps ahead. If he played his cards right, he could take down Voldemort and get his life back.

The road would be difficult, and even he couldn't be sure of the ultimate outcome. The dark side would hate him for betraying the Dark Lord. Because of his history, the light would never really think he was pure enough, good enough for their side, no matter what he did. But that was okay with Regulus. He preferred being a bit gray anyway.