Chapter Text
Regulus opens his eyes and knows what he must do.
He gets up and nearly trips over a discarded book. The word 'horcrux' glares back up at him, seemingly mocking him. He grabs the replica and shoves it in the pocket of the clothes he didn't bother to change out of the night before.
He tries to be silent while passing his mother's room, but she still hears him.
"Orion?"
Her voice is muffled, but hopeful. She’s hardly left her room after father's death. Regulus' heart aches for her. Walburga Black is not a kind woman, she's never really been a good mother either, but she's still his mother. No matter what grudges he has.
(That damned mark is her fault. She made him do it. She knew he didn't have the balls to stand up to her. She basically raised him as a pig for slaughter-)
"No, mother. It's Regulus", he says calmly.
"Oh", his mother's voice is void of all emotion. "Well, run along, then."
"I will", he says. "Goodbye, mother."
She doesn't answer. Regulus goes straight to Kreacher. His house elf looks up at him with big, watery eyes. A burst of affection runs through him when the old, tiny creature immediately grabs his hand when Regulus reaches out.
His thin fingers curling around his as he looks up at Regulus with trust in his eyes. He once again curses the day he told the Dark Lord he had a house elf.
He remembers just how long it took Kreacher to recover.
"Master Regulus-", Kreacher croaks, but Regulus interrupts him. Doesn't want Kreacher to say anything that might make him change his mind.
"Kreacher, listen to me", he says, and his voice comes out stronger than he expected. The replica lies heavy in his pocket.
"I know what the Dark Lord is hiding and I'm going to destroy him. You understand he is not a good man, don't you?", he asks and Kreacher's eyes glaze over as he no doubt thinks back on the snake-like man's cruelty.
"Kreacher?", he asks, gently squeezing the small hand he's still holding.
"Yes", Kreacher answers.
"Alright. Good. That's good. I trust you will tell no one of this. Not even mother", he says and for a split second he considers also mentioning Sirius, but he abandons that thought. His brother would undoubtedly believe what he wants everyone to believe and would not bother looking further into it. It's for the best.
"Take me to the cave, Kreacher", he orders and Kreacher wildly shakes his head.
"No, master Regulus. Kreacher-'
"Take me to the cave, Kreacher", he orders, a harsh edge to his voice this time and the elf's ears seem to droop as he disapparates, taking Regulus with him.
Regulus has looked into Kreacher's memories, of course. But the cave is even more impressive in real life. The entrance must be at least 8 meters high. How did his former master even find this?
The Dark Lord had made Kreacher swim and watched him nearly drown in delight. Disgust courses through him at the memory.
He squats down and lets Kreacher climb onto his back before jumping into the icy water. The cold takes his breath away and Regulus nearly forgets to start swimming. That would be quite unfortunate, drowning before even making it into the cave.
He would’ve laughed it he wasn’t so busy trying to make sure he doesn’t do exactly that. In the water his house elf seems to weight ten times more than he actually does.
It seems to take hours (but in reality he’s sure it only takes ten minutes) but eventually he crawls back onto shore, inside the damp and dark cave. His arms and legs tremble and he struggles to get back up.
“Master Regulus, are you okay?”, Kreacher asks, eyeing him worriedly and trying to help him. Which is futile, of course, but Regulus still appreciates his efforts.
“Yes Kreacher, thank you”, he forces out past chattering teeth. He grabs his wand and dries them both. His hands still tremble, but he doubts that’s not because of the cold. He casts lumos and they walk towards the far wall of the cave which Regulus knows hides monstrosities so horrible he has to swallow bile. His house elf picks up a large, sharp rock which looks entirely too big and dangerous in his hands.
“Give it to me”, he says and Kreacher does so automatically.
“But master-“, he cuts off in a cry when Regulus cuts his hand open. He presses it against the cave wall and, when he starts to feel a little woozy, feels it disintegrate under his bloodied hand. It seems to purr in delight as it does so. Kreacher’s milky eyes are now brimming with tears.
Regulus winks at him with a small smile as he closes the wound with his wand. “Wouldn’t want you having a second scar, now, would we?”
Silent tears start running over the elf’s face in response and he leads Regulus to the place he knows he can get the boat. That tiny boat, cruelly designed to take two people and only bring one back. The only way to get past the dark water full off corpses.
Of all the monstrosities the dark lord has thought of, this must be the worst one.
Though that could also be because this time it was he himself who would be undergoing it, Regulus realizes. Shame rears its ugly head as he thinks back on all the unfortunate wizards, witches and muggles that had undergone a similar fate, but he didn’t even think too much about because he saw them as less. The way the Dark Lord saw Kreacher.
He distracts himself from this disturbing realisation by concentrating and calling the boat.
After a long and gruelling process of pulling the small boat out of the water him and Kreacher are seated, cramped even with how small Kreacher is. Regulus looks down into the dark water and thinks that it must be done. It’s the only way.
The only way to even begin to right the wrongs he’s done.
Again, inexplicably, his thought travel to Sirius. His disgraceful older brother, the one who he always thought made the wrong choice. His mother had made sure of that.
Who knew that all this time it was Regulus who chose wrong. By obeying their father and mother. Like almost any child would.
He can’t help it, he laughs softly. All this time hating Sirius and for what?
His laughter cuts off abruptly when something in the water moves, just out of his line of vision. He stays silent after that, keeping his eyes on the island in from of him, where his untimely death awaits.
It’s for the best.
That’s the mantra he keeps repeating as they finally arrive. Kreacher is sobbing softly now, his entire body trembling and Regulus has half a mind to follow his example.
He stays strong, though. Because that’s what Blacks do.
He vaguely remembers Sirius crying the first and last time their mother cast an unforgivable curse on him. Right before he left. He shakes his head to get the memory out of his head and takes the replica out of his pocket. He kneels in front of Kreacher. His house elf briefly ceases his whimpering sobs.
“Kreacher, I want you to take this locket and replace it with the real one once it’s empty, okay?”, Kreacher nods with difficulty and Regulus blinks rapidly. “Okay. Good. That’s good. I’m going to drink this now and you are going to make sure I drink it all. Then, once you’ve replaced it. I want you to leave me, no matter how much I beg. I want you to go-“
Kreacher looks like he’s going to be sick. “No, master! Let Kreacher drink! Kreacher wants to…Kreacher wants to drink.”
Regulus ignores the blatant lie. “-and once you’re home you remember, right? You’re to tell no one. No matter what mother does. And I want you to destroy the real locket. That’s important, Kreacher. It’s the only way.”
Kreacher nods when Regulus puts on his shoulder and shakes him a little.
The young man nods, lips trembling. “Thank you, Kreacher.”
And then he turns around, grabs the bowl and starts drinking. The first five swallows are alright, there’s a slight burning sensation in his stomach as Regulus quickly brings the bowl to his lips to drink. Just when he starts thinking this might be easier than he’d anticipated the yelling starts, somewhere in the back of his head. He freezes.
“You insolent boy! Didn’t I tell you not to mention that blood traitor’s name again!”
Regulus winces and mutters: “Mother…”
“This is your last warning, you little brat!”
Regulus brings the bowl back to his lips and drinks. Feeling the substance burn its way down his throat.
“Crucio!”
And pain courses through him, as if he’s actually getting cursed. He screams and falls to the floor and for a second he forgets that he’s in that cave and he’s fifteen again, getting the same treatment Sirius got before he left. Along with pain there’s betrayal and hate. Towards his mother and towards the blood traitor he’d once called his brother. For leaving him to this fate.
His mother’s face appears before him, contorted in something he can’t place.
“Merlin, what am I- I’m sorry, Reggie. I’m sorry.”
The warped face of his mother disappears and he’s looking into Kreacher’s big eyes.
“Drink, master.”
And Regulus opens his mouth obediently, letting Kreacher pour the awful awful drink into his mouth. He swallows and again there’s a voice. So loud that it’s nearly deafening.
“Don’t fucking touch me!”
“Sirius, please….don’t leave!”, he cries as his brother’s betrayed face swims in front of him. Like a vision in a dream. God, his whole body burns. He’s hurting so much.
“You didn’t even do anything! You never do! You’re so pathetic!”
“Don’t be mad….I was scared”, he says hoarsely and Sirius barks out a laugh and the young man remembers him shoving Regulus aside so hard he fell to the floor.
“Go to hell, Reg!”
“Sirius! No. Don’t go, please…please…!”
Tears are running over his cheeks and there’s Kreacher again, with that damn bowl. His weakly puts his hands in front of his face.
“No, it hurts. Enough, Kreacher. Please, stop.”, he whimpers and if his mother would see him now she’d have a heart attack, because Blacks don’t beg
“Master Regulus has to drink, he told Kreacher”, Kreacher says as fat tears run over his wrinkly face and Regulus drops his hands.
It seems to go on for hours he sees and feels awful things. At some point he thinks he’s begging Kreacher to kill him. He’s pretty sure he screams so loud he loses his voice by the end of it. Which it miraculously does. End. That is.
He stares up at the dark cave and feels thirst like he never has before. Like he might actually kill someone for one sip of water. The need to drink is so overwhelming he harshly (well, it would have been if he actually had any strength left) shoves Kreacher aside, dragging himself towards the only source of water. He cuts his hands open on the rocks in his haste.
Kreacher is screeching hysterically, but Regulus pays him no mind. He makes it to the black water and puts his hand in. He means to quickly bring it to his mouth and drink, but he never has the chance. Immediately a cold, dead hand curls around his wrist. In the murky water he sees a vile face with white, dead eyes staring up at him.
He pulls, but he’s so weak he doesn’t even manage to pull himself loose before more hands are grabbing at his arm and his clothes. He can’t even manage a scream before he’s pulled under.
Water fills his mouth at last and for a second it’s actually so satisfying he forgets to struggle. That second is all it takes for dozens of more hands to grab him and drag him further underneath. Pressures begins building and water is now filling his lungs. It’s so dark he doesn’t even notice himself slipping away.
Regulus opens his eyes and knows what he must do-