Chapter Text
Regulus sat on the plush black couch of his family’s drawing room; he was staring at the clock that sat upon the mantle of the fireplace. The time on it read that it was nine o’clock. Which meant that the train to Hogwarts was set to leave in about two hours, carrying both new and returning students alike to Hogwarts.
It felt strange to Regulus to be thinking about the train departing and not actually be on it. He had gotten so used to waking up on this very morning and rushing out the door with his mother and father in order to catch the train. In fact, his body had woken him up extra early today for that very reason. It had confused him at first but when he saw the calendar he understood why it happened. When you do something again and again for 7 years straight it becomes easy to keep repeating the motion even if you no longer need to.
His time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was done.
He knew it was done–had been done– since June, when he had graduated alongside his fellow students and gone across the Black Lake on the very same boats that had first carried him to the castle steps when he was 11 years old.
He remembered how he had drifted in the boat, thinking about how his life would go now that his school days were over. He knew that he would now finally be able to go on missions for the Dark Lord. Despite getting his mark while he was still in school, Regulus hadn’t been allowed to sit in at meetings or go on missions till after he graduated from Hogwarts. It had hurt at the time; thinking that the Dark Lord had no faith or trust in him at all.
But after thinking about it some more it made sense.
After all, what could he have truly done from inside the castle? He supposed he could have spied on some of his professors but they wouldn’t be stupid enough to say things around their students. Especially ones they suspected of being involved with the Dark Lord himself.
Though now, Regulus wondered now what life was like for the students currently attending the school. How was the war affecting everyone there?
He imagined all of the Slytherins were sticking tightly together, putting their trust in no other house but their own. He wondered if the same could be said about the other three houses; if the Gryffindors were only relying on each other, if the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were only relying on each other. Or was it the three other houses versus Slytherin?
Strangely Regulus found himself hoping that the latter wasn’t true. Not that he had any particular love for the other three houses but he didn’t want there to be a clear-cut divide between the houses. He wondered if that was because in his youth he had this vision of Hogwarts school being a place where–while there was a rivalry between the houses– everyone was kind and took care of one another. He supposed that’s why it saddened him to think about the houses being pitted against one another. The death of a childhood fantasy that had once kept him company on nights where he could hear his parents fight with one another; on nights where he could hear his parents fight with Sirius
Sirius…He wondered what his brother would think of him now.
He’d probably laugh at him. He’d laugh at Regulus' childhood dream, and he’d probably ask him what had he expected to happen when Regulus had joined the side of the Dark Lord. Did he expect that dreams like that could still live in times like this? Did he really expect that his life would be all sunshine and daisies when he joined the Dark Lord's side? And what right would he even have to be wondering about all of those things? After all, he was just the perfect son they’re parents had always wanted. The son their parents had raised(or tried to raise in Sirius’ case) to be; to always be. That’s all he was, that’s all he’d ever be, that’s all he ever could–
No.
Regulus stopped that train of thought right there and pushed it down. Pushed it deep, deep down.
He knew who he was. He was Regulus Arcturus Black; son of Orion and Walburga Black, pure-blooded wizard of the Slytherin house and bloody proud of it.
It was Sirius who didn’t know who he was. It was the rest of the wizarding world that was confused and lost. That’s why the Dark Lord had started his quest in the first place. To show the rest of the wizarding world that they were the ones who were lost, the ones who were confused. It wasn’t him, he didn’t have those kinds of thoughts. The thoughts of doubt and hesitation. He had a mission he needed to follow, he put all his trust and faith into the Dark Lord and his cause
(Though he could admit that killing all the muggles and Mudbloods in the world seemed a bit excessive, and–)
He smacked himself upside the head. “No, no, no, no!” He scolded himself, “Stop it Regulus. Stop it now.”
“Master Regulus?” A raspy voice stopped Regulus from scolding himself further. He looked down to see Kreacher standing before him looking worried. “Master Regulus, are you alright?”
Regulus felt some of the tension leave his body when his eyes fell upon the house elf, though that tension was replaced with shame. Kreacher may serve their family, but he didn’t deserve to be subjected to Regulus conflicts. Especially since Kreacher was the only person that Regulus could call his friend and truly mean it. The house elf had been there all his life, taking care of him and being there for him when his parents and brother couldn’t. And yes some would say that it was literally Kreacher’s job to do that as his family's house elf, but the people who said that didn’t know who Kreacher was. They didn’t know that Kreacher didn’t just take care of Regulus because he had to; no he did it because he genuinely wanted to.
And how was Regulus repaying him for all of that? By making Kreacher become an audience to his own idiotic and confusing thoughts. He smiled down at Kreacher–or tried to anyway– and said “I’m perfectly fine Kreacher. I’m sorry for worrying you.” But if the look on the house elf's face was anything to go by; he wasn’t convinced by Regulus' face and words.
Kreacher didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at Regulus; as though trying to untangle all of the conflicts inside of him in order to get a better understanding of what troubled him. Finally, he said, “Would Master Regulus like it if Kreacher prepared some tea and biscuits?”
This time Regulus genuinely did smile.
“That sounds wonderful Kreacher, thank you. Do you know if we have any chamomile tea left?” Regulus hoped they did, he needed some to help clear his head.
Kreacher nodded; “I believe we do Master Regulus.”
“Then I’ll have that tea please, Kreacher.”
The house elf nodded “Right away Master Regulus.” He said then turned and went into the kitchen. About a minute later Regulus could hear the noises drifting from the kitchen, and it wasn’t until the noise filled the house that Regulus realized how quiet it had been.
It made sense though; why the house was so quiet. He and Kreacher were the only two people who were currently living at Grimmauld Place.
His parents had gone to a Black family-owned house in rural France. His father had told Regulus that it was because his mother was getting to be in poor health, and that the fresh air might do her some good. And besides, if Regulus was to inherit the Black fortune one day then he should get some practice in running the house as a good head of Black would.
But Regulus knew the real reason they had left. They had left because they had heard rumors of the Ministry going after families who supported the Dark Lord and took away all their wealth and influence within the Ministry itself. Neither of his parents were Death Eaters–why would they be? They had Regulus to do that for them– but they agreed with him on his ideals and Regulus knew they would support him until the end. So it made them worried that they would become a target for the Ministry; so they had run.
He looked up and his eyes drifted over to the giant tapestry that hung on the wall. It was a mural of the Black family tree, going back hundreds of years. It listed everyone– descendants and any of their siblings, the children of those descendants and their own children, it even listed cousins long since separated from the Black family.
(He tried to ignore the faces that were no longer there; having been blasted off of it long ago. He particularly tried to ignore the burned spot that was very close to his own. He did not want to think about him right now.)
Regulus walked over to it and placed his hand where his mother and father were listed on the mural; Walburga and Orion Black. He wondered if they were proud of him–if they loved him– he knew that was probably a silly thing to wonder. He knew that they were proud of him. That they knew that Regulus wouldn’t fail them the same way Sirius had. That Regulus would become the perfect Black matriarch like his father had been, that’s all they wanted from Regulus after all; to hold up and honor the Black family values. And in a way, he already was doing that, by becoming a Death Eater and joining the Dark Lords' noble cause.
That’s right. They were proud of him, they both were, he knew it. So what if his parents had never given him a hug? Never comforted him after a nightmare? Never told him that they love him? He didn’t need that, he didn’t want that. All he needed and wanted was to make his parents and ancestors proud.
(He could feel it sometimes, the weight of the Black ancestors staring at him. Feeling that they were judging his every move, his every thought.)
“Mater Regulus?” Kreacher's voice came from behind him, “Your tea and biscuits are ready. Kreacher has set everything in the drawing room.”
Regulus turned away from the tapestry, “Thank you Kreacher.” he said. And left the sitting room, leaving the tapestry behind but still feeling the weight of the eyes of his ancestors on him. He walked into the drawing room and sat on one of the chairs. He pulled his tea cup and saucer towards him, he then reached over and dropped a couple of cubes of sugar into his cup. He swirled the tea with his spoon for a minute, letting the sugar dissolve into it. Once it had he started to sip away at his tea, hoping that it would wash away everything that had happened in the past hour.
•~~~•~~~•
Around two hours later Regulus was in the house library when he felt a burning pain along his inner left forearm. The Dark Lord was calling for him.
Before he could stop it, force himself to calm down and think, a wave of terror and anxiety filled him.
No; no Regulus, everything is fine.
He repeated that to himself again and again, hoping that it would help calm him down.
Regulus wasn’t sure why he was panicking so much at the idea of the Dark Lord summoning him. He should have felt honored, he should have felt pride that out of everyone the Dark Lord chose him; Regulus Black himself.
He was just being an idiot, today hadn’t started well and that was throwing him off entirely. But once he met with the Dark Lord and received his newest task all would be well. It would chase away all of the thoughts from earlier back into the farthest reaches of his mind where they belonged. Because once he got his orders it would solidify that is where he was meant to be; serving the Dark Lord, helping bring his vision for a better wizarding world to life. Yes, yes that is where he belonged. Not anywhere else, not with anyone else.
He knew that the Death Eaters had changed their base recently; they often did; it was a tactic used to avoid the Ministry finding them and coming for them. Before they had been stationed at Flint house, but three days ago they had changed locations and were now taking up residence at the Rosier household. Regulus remembered going to school with Evan Rosier, he had been in the same year that Sirius had but he had always been polite to Regulus. Looking out for him in the way he always hoped that Sirius would have when they were finally at Hogwarts together.
“Kreacher!” He called out, “Kreacher I’m heading out.” The house elf appeared in seconds, “How will you be gone?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, but if I’m not back within two hours don’t bother with making lunch.”
Kreacher nodded “As you wish Master Regulus.”
And with a final nod towards the house elf; Regulus turned on his heel and apparated out of Grimmauld Place to the Rosier mansion.
•~~~•~~~•
When Regulus landed in the mansion he noticed that he was standing in a hallway, right in front of a dark wooden door. This must be where the Dark Lord was waiting for him. He reached out and took the door handle, trying to force his heart to stop pounding. He took a deep breath, straightened out his shoulders, and pushed open the door.
The Dark Lord was sitting behind an oak desk that was pitch black, he looked up from the papers he was examining and– well he didn’t exactly smile but it was the closest he’d ever get to one. Still; the sight of it eased Regulus’ fears, if the Dark Lord was smiling at him then that meant that he wasn’t in any danger.
“Ah, Regulus.” The Dark Lord said and Regulus hid his shiver. He served his Lord proudly and faithfully; but the way he said his name– the way he practically hissed it out– made his skin crawl and filled him with an immense sense of wrongness. He assumed that it was just a strategy used by the Dark Lord, as a way to instill fear and discomfort into his enemies in order to get the answers he wanted out of them. The Dark Lord must not know how to turn this particular ability off– or at least down– but he supposed that it made sense to keep it on at all times, even around his loyal followers.
His Lord had enemies, many enemies in fact, and he could not afford to let his guard down for a second. Even around those who believed wholeheartedly in him and his cause. Because if he did let his guard down; it would most likely lead to the Dark Lords' fall.
So Regulus assumed that this sense of wrongness and unease was felt by everyone. They just hid so as to not offend the Dark Lord.
“Good afternoon my Lord. I hope you're doing well?”
“Yes I am, thank you for asking. Your concern is most pleasing.” The Dark Lord nodded towards the chair in front of the desk. “Please, sit. I have much to discuss with you.”
Regulus sat down and waited for his Lord to continue; “Forgive me Regulus,” The Dark Lord said, his green eyes barring holes into Regulus, “if this question may be odd, but; your family, you have a house elf correct?”
His Lord was right it was an odd question, but Regulus didn’t let it show on his face. “Yes my Lord we do, his name is Kreacher.”
“Kreacher. Kreacher. Hmmm…” The Dark Lords' eyes shifted from Regulus and to the ceiling instead. And the second that they were off of him, Regulus allowed himself a shiver.
If the way that the Dark Lord said his own name left him with a sense of unease then the way his Lord said Kreachers name… well that caused a hole of dread to form in Regulus' stomach.
“You would say,” the sound of his Lord's voice snapped Regulus back, “That he is a loyal and efficient house elf would you?”
Regulus nodded. “Yes, Kreacher has always looked out for the Black family, has always had our family’s best interest at heart. And he’s taken care of me all of my life.”
The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully, “That is good; to have someone who will serve you so faithfully, so loyally.”
“Yes, it is.” Regulus agreed though he was still confused. Why was the Dark Lord getting with this? And why did he seem so particularly interested in Kreacher?
“One more question for you, my boy.”
“Anything, my lord.”
“Your house elf, does he perform his tasks without question and perform them successfully?”
Regulus nodded, “Yes, he does.”
The Dark Lord smiled, “That is everything I needed to hear; Regulus my task for you is this:”
Regulus waited, holding his breath. Here it was, he would get assigned his task, perform it effortlessly and gain more of the Dark Lord's favor. He would be reminded of the cause that he signed up for. He would be reminded that even on bad days there was nothing more important than the Dark Lords' needs and–
“I am in need of the services of your horse elf.”