Chapter Text
1979.
“To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this
but 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.”
Regulus Arcturus Black dipped the swan feather quill back into the ink pot on his desk, and waited for the ink to dry on the note he just finished inscribing.
Sitting back in his wooden high backed chair in his childhood bedroom of eighteen years, the enormity of what he was about to do struck him yet again. He had given thought time and again to what this could mean, how this could affect people he knew and didn’t know, people he would never know, and the future. And he decided it was necessary, as there was no other way he could see past it and no one else he could trust besides himself.
He looked around the dark wallpapered room, at his news clippings of Death Eater activity fluttering against the wall in the breeze from the open window, the photo of him and his Quidditch team donned in Slytherin green and silver, and the painting of the Black Family crest gleaming in the low afternoon sunlight over his headboard. He may never see any of this again. But he was ready.
The ink on the short note finally dry, he carefully folded the small piece of paper in tiny triangles to fit into the heirloom locket he had reclaimed from one of the many snapping display cabinets of his ancestral home. The edges of the dry parchment paper tucked all the way into the small metal oval shape, and he shut it with a resounding click in the empty room.
Taking a deep breath, he stood up and placed the locket and its incendiary message within an inner pocket of his robes. He went to stand by the window, taking some time to look out at the quiet neighborhood street below. Grimmauld Green was mostly empty, no movement below aside from swaying tree branches and the occasional sound of a dog barking. He sighed and closed the window with a slam, turning away and closing the curtains, shrouding the room in darkness. Nearing the door, he donned his outer cloak, shaking out the long sleeves and pulling it tightly shut at the neck, the high collar stark black against his pale throat. His hand was shaking as he reached out to turn his bronze doorknob. He clenched his fist and steadied himself. The next time he reached out, his hand was firm.
Stepping out into the hallway, Regulus glanced quickly at his older brother’s closed door before sweeping his gaze back in the direction of the staircase, moving towards it, his footsteps hushed on the plush carpet runner in the hallway. Sirius’s room had been vacant for years now. He only checked out of habit. But wait, this time he heard something. A sound came from within the room, a soft sort of shuffling, as if someone were in there, but trying to keep quiet. His attention caught, he moved toward the door, silently pushing it open.