Chapter Text
"It's certainly an idea."
"Are you out of your mind!?"
"No more than I usually am, Kreacher."
"You nearly died in that cave, Young Master Regulus! Which reminds me — are you even in a fit state to be walking!?"
"Oh please, we have no time to stop and wonder."
"Why do you say that? We have plenty of time to stop and think properly!"
"No, we don't, because I'm rather craving some chocolate."
"Don't be insolent, Young Master Regulus! Oh dear oh dear, Master Orion and Mistress Walburga won't approve..."
"Frankly, Kreacher, I don't care one bit. I've just survived certain death. All I want is chocolate. Now, are you my mother, or are you my house elf?"
"... Your house elf."
"Great, then. Direct me to the nearest sweets shop, please and thank you."
Kreacher grumbles under his breath, but doesn't argue any further, disappearing with a pop. Regulus sighs; he can still feel the water soaked through his shirt.
The cave had been terrifying, pulsing with magic and brimming with the stench of rotten death. The water had been odd, as if opaque, and once learning what creatures lurked beneath it, cursed and bloodthirsty, the task to retrieve the locket had become increasingly more difficult.
But then, Kreacher had saved him; the one time the house elf ever disobeyed his master's orders.
"I can't go back to Grimmauld Place," Regulus tells himself, shoulders tensing. "The Dark Lord — Voldemort — will have me killed instantly. Maybe Crucioed or Imperioed too. I can't risk it."
When Kreacher appears once more, a loud crack announcing his arrival, he looks up at Regulus with as much innocence as one endlessly loyal house elf can manage.
"What is it?" Regulus asks, narrowing his eyes.
Kreacher pulls out a single measly piece of chocolate from the stitched-up pocket of his worn rags. "Will this do? The woman working at the sweets shop was horrid. I was only capable of snatching this bit of chocolate. I apologise, Young Master."
"Nothing to apologise for," Regulus assures Kreacher. "There's just one thing — we have nowhere to go. We were both supposed to die in that cave. Everyone will assume I'm dead." The thought made Regulus wonder of Sirius's reaction, and hesitantly, James's (though he'd rather go right back to the cave and drown than ever admit it).
"You could never pass away so unceremoniously," Kreacher sneers, defending Regulus a great deal more than Regulus imagined the house elf would.
"Ah, thanks. Truly insightful of you, Kreacher. Now, quick, how do I make a living whilst playing under a completely different guise so that I can convince everyone I'm dead?"
"You seem to always have the answer for yourself," Kreacher responds, raising a naked brow.
"That's true. But I need your opinion. I don't fancy going undercover as some joke of a Muggle." Regulus shudders. Not hating Muggles is one thing, but being wholly surrounded by them? Regulus felt doubtful.
"You'd make a fine man no matter what," Kreacher babbles, "but a dirty Muggle is no good, Young Master, no good. Only Mudbloods associate with their own filth."
Regulus smacks Kreacher then, right on top of his bald head, pleased when the house elf grunts in pain. "I'll hear none of that, Kreacher. We all bleed the same. Discriminating is what makes a person filth."
Kreacher flinches. "You have strayed from your path, Young Master Regulus."
Regulus scoffs. "What path? The one where I die, doing basically nothing, and nobody gives a shit? Right, no thanks." He swallows his last bite of the chocolate bar and gazes out to the horizon. The sky was darkening now, ocean waves splashing idly against jagged rocks.
"What are you thinking, Young Master Regulus?" Kreacher asks, tone of voice softer, scratchy still but gentle.
The sticky melted chocolate on Regulus's fingertips is what sparks his next idea, and he would almost be embarrassed, if only it wasn't such an entertaining one.
"I've always wanted to be a chocolatier, did you know?" Regulus says with a hum.
It stays quiet for a moment, the rustle of trees and the collision of rocks and water rushing past their ears.
"Oh dear," Kreacher finally speaks.
"Oh dear indeed." Regulus can't help the wicked amusement in his voice. "Come, Kreacher. You'll be a perfect circus act. And I can teach you how to make chocolate."
"I'd really rather not, Young—"
"Well, I'd really rather you did."
Kreacher shakes his head in disbelief. "Do you have a name in mind? An alias you can use? You call me a circus act, but what will you explain to the Muggles once they might get too curious?"
"Hmm." Regulus smirks. "Guess we'll have to see. But Kreacher?"
"... Yes, Young Master Regulus?"
"I'm feeling like 'Willy Wonka' would be quite hilarious."
•••🍫•••
Regulus sicks up for the third time on their boat ride to London, paling every time he looks down into the ocean waters.
"There's no Inferi out to get you," Kreacher keeps assuring him, mostly wandering about the boat and frowning worriedly at his master.
Regulus had refused to Apparate — it would make him even sicker, he was convinced.
"We could do with a boat ride," Regulus had told Kreacher. "It could be fun."
A young Muggle boy now steered their possibly illegal boat. He had only asked for a coin, pleading with them to let him do the steering.
"Don't you think I'm in a predicament myself?" Regulus had scoffed.
"So your clothes are slightly torn and thoroughly wet. But those earrings are diamond, and those rings are silver. You can't convince me that you're not just a poor rich person," the kid had argued. He had stuck out his hand after, motioning for a coin.
"Muggles!" Kreacher had cried out, aghast. "They're so—"
The boy had yelped, stumbling backwards. "Whoa! What is that?"
"Eh..." Regulus shrugged, going for the first thing that popped into his mind. "An... Iompa Roompa."
"An Eompa Loompa?" The boy exclaimed.
"An Oompa Roompa!?" Kreacher had heard, shrieking at the positively horrid name.
"Yes... precisely." Regulus hummed to himself. "An Oompa Loompa," he decided.
The boy blinked at the house elf speculatively. Kreacher glared back.
"It'd look mighty good with orange skin and green hair," the boy suggested, grinning a little mischievously.
Regulus smirked, finding the boy not to be so terrible, although it looked like Kreacher would disagree with this observation. "What's your name, kid?"
"Charlie Tin," the boy replied. "And yours, sir?"
Regulus's smirk faded. "Just Regulus, please. So, you reckon you can cruise us to London?"
"It ain't far from Scotland," Charlie replied chirpily. "Make sure you've got all you need and we'll head off right away."
"Don't you have any parents, Charlie? Any family?"
"My grandpa owns a farm in Wales. I don't visit him much. As for everyone else, they're either offed or keeping well away from me." Charlie had simply shrugged and grinned. "I'm a free bird, Mister Regulus. It ain't all that bad."
That was when Regulus had shoved more than just a few coins into the boy's hand. "Let's go then, Charlie Tin. I've got everything ready with me."
The sailing begun, and a silly little rich boy's dream of becoming a chocolatier was coming to life.
("How do you think a Horcrux or Basilisk's blood would taste in chocolate?"
"Young Master... that's..."
"Never mind. You're no longer my house elf, you see, Kreacher."
Kreacher frowns. "Please don't say—"
"You're an Oompa Loompa.")
Regulus continues to work on:
1. Finding the Horcruxes.
And 2. Making brilliant chocolate.
("What if Voldemort hid one of his Horcruxes in a chocolate bar?"
"I think you're doing that job just fine for him," Kreacher snaps. He pales. "Oh, I apologise, Young Master! I should really hold my tongue! Kreacher is sorry, so sorry, so—"
"It's fine, Kreacher, remember? You're an orange-faced Oompa Loompa."
"—sorry? Please... don't paint me orange, Young Master."
"I could magic you some green hair with it."
"Please no, Young Master Regulus!")
The chocolate Regulus makes over the span of a few hours has Charlie's eyes twinkling. "This is absolutely scrumptious, Mister Regulus!"
"I'm glad you like it." Regulus turns to Kreacher and places the chocolate in his palm. "Eat this, Oompa Loompa."
Kreacher scowls. He eats it anyway. His eyes go wide. "My oh... this is, well, quite good."
"It's brilliant!" Charlie cries, grinning widely.
Regulus's heart lurches. Charlie reminds him of James when they were both younger. He turns away and packs the rest of the chocolates in his magic endless-storage bag.
"Yes, well, once we're at London, there'll be plenty of these chocolates to go around. I just need a factory," Regulus says.
"Mister Regulus..." Charlie starts, but Regulus interrupts him.
"Can you do me a favour, Charlie?"
"Um, sure thing."
"Refer to me as Willy Wonka from now on."
Charlie's eyebrows raise themselves. "Er, are you some sort of magician going undercover, Mister?"
Regulus flinches backward along with Kreacher.
"I mean, I know about witches and wizards already, Mister Regulus. Grandpa is one — the same grandpa who's got that farm in Wales. He's real nice and shows me a whole lot of magic. He also told me how to spot people with magic like him." Charlie nods at Regulus. "At first, I wasn't sure, but your Oompa Loompa is unheard of, and I've seen you doing some impossible things. Plus, I've never had chocolate that tastes like that. Nor a chocolate that hops like a frog."
"Oh." Regulus glances at Kreacher. "Huh. I guess that was silly, then. Are you a Squib, Charlie?"
Charlie flushes. "I haven't an idea what all those magic words mean, Mister Regulus, just that you can make things float, and make things hop, and make things go pop."
Regulus sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "Well. We have a lot of work to do, that's for sure."
("Can you make things go boom?"
"Yes, Charlie, but I'm not going to try blow up anything on this boat right now."
"No, I'm saying it for a chocolate idea, Mister Willy Wonka."
"Ah, alright, go on then."
"What if the chocolate was a bomb — it explodes in your mouth with the flavours of a double chocolate truffle!"
"... Hm. Not bad.")
By the time they reach London, the odd trio are carrying multiple jars of the most magical chocolates — ones that float, those that hop, pieces that pop, and the truffle-flavoured chocolate that goes boom.