Chapter Text
December 28, 1979
11:15 P.M.
The Cave
Regulus Black was losing his mind. The Black Family madness had finally come for him. He knew, on some level, that he was in a cave with his house-elf, Kreacher, and that they had an important job to do. But his mind was back in Grimmauld Place, and all he could hear was Mother and Sirius screaming over each other. If he thought about it, he would have realized he was sitting on the wet stone, hugging his knees with his back against the basin that held….something important. (Why couldn't he remember?) However, in the moment, all that he saw was his childhood bedroom. Empty of the newspaper clippings he'd plastered his walls with. The clippings that disgusted him now. This was his bedroom as it had been when he was fifteen. Something important had happened when he was fifteen. What was it? The screaming wouldn't stop. He tried covering his ears, but the screaming was inside his head. Something occurred to him.
You could scream back. Who's gonna notice? Mother won't notice you if Sirius is around. Sirius hasn't noticed you since James Potter came into the picture. And Father's gone now.
This all seemed very logical to Regulus, and he really did want to scream. Everything hurt from that potion Kreacher had given him, and he'd wanted to scream back at the both of them for years. So Regulus screamed. Nothing intelligible, just a long scream that he'd been dying to let out for who knows how long. And no one in that house heard him. He smiled at that. You don't have to be the perfect son if they can't hear you. So Regulus kept screaming.
"SHUT UP!" He had found within him the courage to speak-or rather, to scream-his mind, and he felt near-invincible. "JUST SHUT UP FOR ONCE! NOBODY CARES! NOBODY IN THIS GOD-FORSAKEN HOUSE EVEN CARES!" He had done it. He had stood up to his mother. He wasn't sure if it counted, given this seemed to be a memory of sorts, and she couldn't hear him. But he still felt a rush of strength. He'd done it. He'd finally told Walburga Black to shut her horrid mouth for once, and it gave him an odd sort of adrenaline. This must be what it feels like to be Sirius.
"Master Regulus!" Who was that? Oh, Kreacher. "Is Master Regulus okay? Kreacher is getting more of the potion, and Kreacher hears Master Regulus screaming."
"I'm-" his voice was hoarse, and he didn't have the energy to be surprised by it. "I'm fine, Kreacher." The elf had brought him back to reality, but only for a moment. He remembered that he had to keep drinking this potion (Why though?), and that his arm hurt. There was a cut on it, right over the Dark Mark. He remembered making the cut, and he knew it was for a reason. He'd done it to...to...to get into the cave. That was it. And he needed to drink the potion to take the Dark Lord's horcrux. He felt a little better now that he remembered everything, but knew this moment of stability wouldn't last.
He drank from the goblet, and the memory returned. His brother's voice was louder. Were they still brother's? They had to be...right?
"That's it! I'm leaving! No one in this house even cares about me! And guess what? I don't care about any of you! I’m not your puppet, Mother. I’m not Regulus." Regulus could feel the impact of those words in his stomach. He remembered feeling that way the first time this happened too. Well, He thought with a smirk, as he remembered where he was, and what he was doing, let's see you call me a puppet now, Sirius.
The other thing was...Regulus did care for Sirius. Sure, they hadn't had a great relationship ever since Regulus was sorted into Slytherin, but they were brothers. Maybe. He tried to remember if Sirius still liked him when he was fifteen. He couldn't help but think it was a bit of a double standard, Sirius hadn't much cared that their cousin, Andromeda, was in Slytherin. The two of them had always been close, the way he himself had been with Cissa. Of course, she had been Andromeda, and Regulus had been himself. So there was that to take into account.
But Sirius had always looked out for him at school, and made sure other kids didn't pick on him (A right which was apparently reserved for Sirius himself). He'd even congratulated him when he won his first quidditch game.
He heard Sirius' feet running up the stairs. Then his bedroom door slammed. So dramatic. He gets it from mother. Regulus always thought he was the calmer brother, but his recent screaming fit did little to support that notion. Regulus stayed where he was, he knew what came next, and he didn’t think he was ready to relive it. But the version of him in the memory walked towards his door and opened it. Sirius stormed past him, trunk in hand. The fact that he had his trunk packed already…
"Is this what you wanted? You're the heir now. Regulus Black, the perfect pureblood son. I hope you're happy." Sirius spat out the words at him. As if everything was Regulus' fault. And maybe it was. He mused. It was interesting what three more years of life had done to his perspective.
"Sirius, I-" But Sirius cut him off. Not that it mattered, as I had no idea what to say.
"Don't. Just don't, Reg. I can’t stay here, but I…" He seemed to want to say something, but then thought better off it. "I'll see you on the Express."
And then Sirius was walking downstairs. And Regulus was screaming again. He wouldn't let it happen again. Not like it did when he was fifteen.
"Sirius, wait! Please, please, just wait! I'll come with you this time, please, Siri! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, Sirius, please don't leave me with them!" He watched the front hall as his brother walked out the door. "No! No, Sirius, come back! Please, you have to!"
"Master Regulus! Master Regulus!" At the sound of Kreacher's voice, he snapped out of it. It was just a memory. He'd never get a second chance at that night. And screaming into a near-empty cave wouldn't change that. He began to sob. He didn't know what he was crying for. Everything and nothing, it seemed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. Probably after his big fight with Sirius.
His mother's voice rang in his head. "Blacks don't cry." He wanted to scream at her that it was all her fault he was crying in the first place. But he didn't think his voice could take anymore screaming. And really, it was all his own fault. He could blame his heritage, or his mother all he wanted. But he was the one that took the mark.
Kreacher placed a small hand on Regulus' shoulder. The elf had a rather comforting presence. Kreacher had always been there for him. He genuinely cared about Regulus, unlike Father, who needed an heir, or Mother who seemed to have something to prove after her first born...turned out how he did. The only ones in that house who cared about Regulus had been Kreacher and Sirius. And Kreacher hadn't stopped caring. He gently patted his shoulder, and made soft shushing noises until Regulus stopped crying. "Kreacher knows. Kreacher knows. Kreacher was having to drink the potion too, and the Dark Lord was forcing him to drink it all very fast. It made Kreacher see things, but now Kreacher knows they were not real. It is okay, Master Regulus."
But it had been real. That was exactly the problem. It had really happened all those years ago. If only it'd been a bit more real. Real enough for him to change it. Real enough that Sirius would've heard him, and came back, and pulled him into a hug like he used to, before Regulus screwed everything up.
Kreacher handed him the goblet with the potion. "This is the last one, Master Regulus." Finally. It was almost over. He downed the potion as quickly as he could. It burnt even more, and he needed water. That was all he could think about. Water. His eyes scanned the cave for it. Surely there was water somewhere other than the lake? The lake scared him. His eyes fell on Kreacher, and he remembered his mission.
"Kreacher, the locket. You have to...you have to take it, and…" he began coughing from the pain in his throat "...and destroy it. Put...put this" he fished a smaller locket out of his robe. "In the...in there. And then leave. Get out of here."
"Yes, Master Regulus." The elf's voice shook a little as he acknowledged his master. Regulus watched as the elf reached into the basin to swap the lockets. Perhaps it was just his imagination, perhaps Regulus was simply that desperate for someone to miss him, but Kreacher seemed reluctant to leave him there.
"And Kreacher?"
"Yes, Master?"
"Do not--ever--tell the family." His voice sounded firm, harsh even. He didn't like to be harsh with Kreacher, he hadn't meant to. But it'd be too risky if anyone knew.
"Even the blood-traitor?" Regulus thought to correct him, to tell him that Sirius was not a blood-traitor, and that he was the best of all of them. But he didn't have it in him to say all that much.
"Yes, even Sirius." He felt his eyes water but refused to let himself cry. Again.
After Kreacher apparated away, Regulus imagined Sirius finding out what he'd done. Finding out that Regulus' life hadn't been a total waste, that he'd done one good thing, even if he'd been a horrible person for eighteen years. He wasn't imagining his brother being proud, or even forgiving him for all those years. But if Sirius could just know that his brother had changed. That he wasn't Mother's puppet anymore, and he thought for himself. It was a nice idea, but Sirius could never know. He was in enough danger fighting in the Order of the Phoenix. (Why would he risk his life like that? Because he's not a coward like you.)
Regulus looked down into the lake. The water was pitch black, as if it had something to hide. And it did. Inferi. That was what Kreacher had told him. His heart was beating fast. Regulus thought it was a little late for his self-preservation to kick in. He tried to calm it down, but his brain had started going a mile a minute, trying to comprehend that this really was the end, and no, Regulus wouldn't do anything to stop his own death. He would...what was it Beedle had said? "Embrace death like an old friend?" Well, he wasn't quite there. He was more just...accepting what he knew he deserved.
Now how best to do it. He could just step into the water. Or he could at least try and drink some first, to soothe the burning in his throat. Why not?
He kneeled down on the edge of the stone, cupped his hands, and reached into the water. He pulled his hands out, and before he could take a drink, a wet, slimy hand clasped around his wrist. Right on time. He grinned at the thought, the casual nature of it. It was something Sirius would say. His brother was a wonderful idiot, who could joke his way through danger. That was his last coherent thought. After that, his mind was a constant stream of panic, fear, and regret, while he felt the hands, thousands of hands, drag him beneath the water. He kicked, and tried to resist. In a moment of pure panic, he'd completely forgotten this was part of the plan.
And then Regulus Black died. Or he thought he did. He woke up somewhere...white. That was all he could see at first: endless white. He realized the pain in his arm, as well as his throat, was gone. He held up his arm to look at it. There was no cut, but far more surprising, there was no Mark. He examined his arm for a moment, and then he realized he was naked. There was no one around, but he felt rather uncomfortable with this realization. If only there were some clothes in this...whatever this is. As soon as he thought it to himself, a dark black robe, much like the one he'd been wearing, appeared hanging from a tree. When had the tree appeared? He made his way over, and pulled the robe on. He inspected the tree. It was familiar, but he couldn't place it. The rest of his surroundings seemed to be slowly filling in as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. There was a hill with another tree, some bushes, a small pond, and several flower beds. The answer struck him suddenly. He was in Grandmother's garden. Did that mean Grandmother was here?
Suddenly a voice, one that was decidedly not his grandmother's, spoke from behind him. "Regulus Black." He whipped his head around, and there was Death. His face covered by his dark hood (Did Death even have a face?), and his scythe in hand. He realized he was gaping at the man (Man? Person? Thing?) and he promptly shut his mouth. He dismissed the voice of his mother inside his head about etiquette and being proper.
"Hello." It seemed to be a rather anticlimactic thing to say at a time like this, but he didn't exactly have any experience in this situation.
"Hello Regulus. I'm sure you have many questions, feel free to ask." Death was very polite, and rather...straightforward. He'd always supposed Death would be confusing, or talk in riddles, like his former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
"Uhm, thank you. Well, I assume I've died…"
"Not yet."
"Oh. But...I'm about to?"
"If you want to." What does that mean? He took it all back, Death was exactly how he was in stories.
Death laughed, deep and full. Oh Merlin, can he read my thoughts? "Excuse me, um, sir, but can you…"
"Yes, I can." Regulus felt his face flush. "Don't worry, you're not the first to think that."
"Right, well then. What exactly do you mean by 'if I want to'?" He realized that probably sounded fairly rude. "...sir." He added lamely. Mother would have a fit if she saw this.
Death seemed to have the courtesy not to laugh at every stupid thought that came into Regulus' mind though, and he simply answered the question. "Well, the interesting thing is, that you, Regulus, have unfinished business, which means-"
"I could become a ghost." Regulus finished. Nice going genius, you interrupted Death. Now you're gonna get yourself reincarnated as a billywig.
Death let out a snort, which he badly disguised as a coughing fit. Apparently, Death thought Regulus was an idiot. That makes two of us. "Yes, you can become a ghost."
"But going on is braver, nobler. Right?" Regulus had talked to the Baron about it in his third year when Grandmother had died. Where is she, anyways? This is her garden after all.
"Some do say that. Some also say that it would depend on the nature of your business." Regulus had to admit there was logic in that. What was his unfinished business? Destroying the horcrux? It must be. "As far as your grandmother, I assume you mean Melania Black?"
"Yes." Regulus had never been close with his maternal grandmother, but he'd spent so many holidays at Black Manor with his father's parents, Melania and Arcturus. Before her marriage, Melania had been a Macmillan. She had been the only Slytherin in a largely Hufflepuff family, and had always sympathized with Sirius. Regulus had been close to her, too. They would work in her garden together, something that Regulus enjoyed, but couldn't normally take part in because it wasn’t "befitting of his stature” according to Mother and Father. And when they visited the manor, their grandparents would always make sure their parents weren't too hard on him or Sirius, and he'd always felt safe at the Manor. He assumed that was why he saw her garden when he died. Or didn't die. Or whatever it was.
"Melania was planning to come greet you, until we took notice of your unfinished business. Those cases are somewhat rare, so I take them myself. We don't want anyone you knew in Life trying to sway your decision." His decision. He wasn't ready to make a decision yet.
"I'd have thought unfinished business would be a bit more common than that." He's gonna know you're stalling.
"Oh, to some level it is, but it's hardly ever enough to justify returning as a ghost."
"Oh, right. I guess that makes sense."
"And Regulus…take as long as you need. It's an important choice, and time...well, it doesn't exactly work the same here."
"Of course it doesn't." Regulus muttered. Leave it to Regulus Black to get fed up with the afterlife.
A ghost. Huh. It made sense. And it could work, too. He could ask Kreacher to fetch him books, and instruct the elf on how to destroy the locket. He could maybe even...no.
No he couldn't. If the Dark Lord thought Sirius had any idea of what Regulus was trying to do, or how he'd died, Sirius would be killed. No, not killed. They'd turn him over to Bella. No, he decided, telling Sirius would put him at too much risk. So why did Regulus still want to?
Cause you're a selfish jerk who thinks that you somehow deserve love after all the terrible things you've done.
Maybe after all this is over though...
Yeah, because he'd be so happy to see you again? He's better off with Potter, get that through your thick skull.
The voices in his head were at war with each other once again. Or maybe he was at war with the voices? He remembered suddenly that Death could hear all his thoughts, and tried to stop the cacophony in his own mind. He glanced toward Death, and was grateful that the hood covered his face. He didn’t want to see the pitying look on Death’s face. Regulus Black did not need anyone’s pity.
"I'll go back. I- I have a plan." Regulus tried to sound confident. He had no room to be nervous, there were more important things to do. Suddenly, he noticed his body starting to glow, there were dozens of beams of light coming out of it.
"Farewell, Regulus." Death was waving at him.
"Farewell, Death." Regulus replied, because he was a Black, and had been taught manners. And then, because he was a Black, and dramatics was in his blood, he added "I have a Dark Lord to kill."
The beams of light seemed to explode out of him, and there was one last flash before the garden was gone.
He was back under the water, but seemed to be breathing just fine. No wait...he wasn't breathing at all. It seemed he didn't need to. He willed himself to move, and he slowly rose out of the lake. Now he just needed to talk to Kreacher. His mother was still at Grimmauld. He'd have to come up with someplace else to meet with his house-elf. All in good time. He thought. And for the first time in ages, Regulus felt hopeful.