Starfall

1979 - Early June

When Kreacher had appeared, shivering and vomiting, Regulus hadn’t known what to think. He had gifted his elf to the Dark Lord for him to use as he liked, but he hadn’t considered that the elf might be hurt by the man.

So, reasonably—at least in Regulus’ opinion—he had ordered the elf to take him to the cave after Kreacher had told him what had happened when he went with the Dark Lord.

The cave was eerie and damp, Regulus thought it reminded him a bit of the slytherin common room, what with the sound of water and the humid air. He was led by Kreacher to a wall of the cave, where Kreacher told him of the blood sacrifice Voldemort had made, and of the chamber behind it.

Regulus pricked his finger with a needle he kept on him at all times, used for the brief amount of blood magic that he dabbled in. He pressed his finger to the wall, and it opened, revealing the pitch black cavern beyond.

He cast a quick wandless lumos, the light bouncing off the lake that it revealed. It was beautiful, in an odd sort of way. The water gently stirred every so often, ripples spreading across the surface. Regulus assumed it was from the strong breeze that whistled through the door.

He shivered slightly, before stepping forward through the now open doorway into the cavern beyond.

“Where now, Kreacher?”

“The Dark Lord took Kreacher on a boat to the island in the middle.” The elf’s voice was hoarse from the sickness he had recovered from mere hours earlier, and Regulus stepped further into the cavern to allow Kreacher to pass and guide him.

After about a minute of walking around the lake, they stopped and the elf spoke. 

“The bad Master’s boat was here, Kreacher doesn’t know where it has gone.”

Regulus nodded in acceptance of the elf’s explanation, before swiping his hand out through the air, searching for a disturbance that might reveal the boat that Kreacher spoke of.

He was successful a couple minutes later when his hand ran into what felt like an invisible chain, vertical to the ground, leading down into the depths of the water. As he grabbed hold of it, it became visible with a sickly green glow. He pulled up as hard as he could, trying to pull what was—hopefully—the boat out of the lake.

He was rewarded after another minute of effort, with minor help from Kreacher, by the water breaking around a small boat that Regulus hopped down into from the shore.

As soon as he had entered the boat, it had started slowly moving across the lake, and Regulus called out. 

“Kreacher! Get in the boat!”

Heeding his call, the house elf quickly jumped after it, managing to get in without touching the water. The boat rocked slightly, and Regulus settled in. It seemed that the ride would take maybe five or so minutes, so he made himself comfortable alongside Kreacher.

The boat bumped against the shore a few minutes later, and Regulus quickly hopped out, grabbing Kreacher’s hand as he went and pulling him along.

“Kreacher. I will drink the potion, if you do not let me I will order you not to. Once the basin is empty, you will take the locket and bring it back to Grimmauld Place or whoever you think will be able to destroy it, understood?”

Regulus hated being strict with the elf, but he understood that at the current moment he had to be in order for his plan to work.

Kreacher looked reluctant, but nodded, so Regulus grabbed the shell that rested on the edge of the basin as he reached said basin, scooping up the green potion.

Before he drank it, he turned to Kreacher.

“Once I can no longer drink the potion by my own volition, you must continue to make me drink. You will leave me here, and take the locket as I instructed.”

“But, Master-”

“No. You will do as I said, and ignore all orders I give you while under the effects of the potion.”

Kreacher still looked hesitant, but before the elf could say anything he took a drink, before quickly getting another before the effects could truly settle into him. He managed to get through three scoops and partway through a fourth before it happened.

The world around him began to fade, and pain pain pain overtook his senses, voices beginning to surround Regulus. 

“You’ll never be a true pureblood heir, you’re too weak to do what needs to be done.” 

“Stand up straighter! Purebloods don’t slouch, don’t smile, don’t laugh-”

On and on it went, and Regulus could’ve sworn he could see his parents looking down on him with derision on their faces, his mother’s wand pointed at him, the cruciatus curse filling him with even more pain-

His brother’s voice.

“You’ll always just follow them blindly, won’t you? Never talking back, being the perfect heir that I never could be.”

Regulus choked slightly. “N-no, I don’t- stop it! Stop!”

He felt hands on his face, tilting it upwards as something was pressed to his lips, and he thought he heard a voice, kinder than the others through the haze.

“Master must drink! Kreacher must do as he ordered Kreacher! Drink.”

But no. It couldn’t be real, his brother was standing over him, not the elf, looking down on him as if he was worthless. Maybe he was.

“My brother is James. You were never really my brother, my brother would have stood up and came with me when I ran, he hated that house just as much as I did once. You just do as you’re told, the perfect puppet for Mother to do with as she pleases.”

Regulus sobbed, lurching back, but the hands returned, pressing the shell to his lips once more.

On and on this cycle went, voices and hallucinations taking over Regulus’ mind, all while he was sobbing from the pain and from the words that hurt oh so much.

He didn’t know how long it had been when he finally returned to himself. The first feeling that Regulus felt was overwhelming thirst, and he barely noticed Kreacher grabbing something from the now empty basin and apparating away as Regulus hurried to the edge of the lake, dragging himself, too weak to stand.

Regulus dragged his hand into the water, splashing it up to his face, but before he could do anything else, a white, slimy hand reached out of the water and clamped itself around his wrist, dragging him forward.

More hands joined, so many hands, clawing at him, tearing him to pieces-

Then water, crashing over his head as he was dragged deeper into the lake. It felt like hours, pure pain, worse even than what he had felt drinking the potion, and the water filling his lungs. He couldn’t breathe.

But then he could, suddenly he was gasping for air, no longer surrounded by the water that had pressed down on him, drowning him, and he could breathe again. Regulus wrenched his wrist from the grip of a hand, too reminiscent of the ones that had just been dragging him down-

Regulus blacked out before he hit the ground.

1980 - October

After Regulus had been saved by Kreacher from the lake just over a year prior, he had spent most of his time recovering. He had awoken after passing out to the face of his former best friend, Pandora, hovering over him alongside her husband, Xenophilius Lovegood.

Regulus hadn’t coped very well with the fact he was alive, much less the fact that he was putting Pandora and her husband in danger by staying with them, but after many reassurances from the pair about the defences on their home, he hesitantly accepted their offer to stay with them for at least however long it took him to recover.

The wounds he had received from the inferi—he knew now after a very brief visit from Kreacher that that was what had dragged him into the depths of the water, had refused to heal. Pandora had managed to make sure he wouldn’t die, but it would take years for Regulus to return to peak physical shape.

Inferi were cursed creatures, similar to werewolves, and because of that fact, wounds inflicted by them could not be healed by magic. The sheer amount of claw marks he had all over his body meant that it would take a while to heal, and so he had only just gotten off bedrest a month earlier.

Currently, he was sitting in an armchair across from the couch where the Lovegoods were sitting.

“We were thinking, Regulus, that if you were willing, we want you to be our child’s godfather. I understand if you don’t, but you are a part of our family.”

Pandora’s voice was soft, and Regulus sat frozen.

“But- I’m technically dead, I can’t be a godparent. It won’t be accepted, dead people can’t be godparents.”

The woman smiled softly at him. “We can take you to Gringotts, the goblins won’t tell on you most likely. They like you, don’t they?”

Regulus thought for a moment. “They do, or at least they did. That might work, and it would allow me to claim the Black heirship again.”

When he had ‘died’ he had lost the position of heir, but he should be able to claim it after doing a simple inheritance test at the wizarding bank. He couldn’t claim the Lordship however as his grandfather, Arturus, currently held it.

When he finally agreed to go, Pandora grinned at him, and Regulus smiled back.

~

Several hours later, Regulus returned home—because yes, it was home—with a new ring on his finger symbolizing his position as heir Black and the paperwork filled out to show that he would be Pandora and Xeno’s baby’s godfather.

1981 - Early November

Regulus stared down at the newspaper in his hands. His brother’s face stared up at him from the front page. His heart felt heavy, and the only thing stopping his mind from completely departing from reality was Pandora’s hand squeezing his shoulder.

When Regulus had gone to get the Prophet off the doorstep that morning. It had been to see the image of his brother and an accompanying article about his imprisonment in Azkaban for killing twelve muggles and a wizard.

Not just any wizard, but Peter Pettigrew , who had followed him around and been one of Sirius’ best friends during their Hogwarts years. Regulus had frozen as his eyes roamed over the paper, and when he didn’t immediately come back inside Dora had come to check on him.

She had found him there, and when she saw the headline, she had gripped his shoulder and guided him inside to the couch, making Regulus sit down, paper still in his hands.

“-gulus, Regulus!” He eventually made out her voice, calling his name from what seemed like a great distance. “Are you back with me now?” 

Pandora spoke once more when she saw his eyes clear up a bit from the fog that Regulus knew had overtaken them. It wasn’t the first time he had felt disconnected from the world since he had started living with the Lovegoods. 

“Y-yes, Dora.” He muttered softly, forcing himself to look away from the photo of the man he hadn’t spoken with for several years. She was looking at him, concern showing in her eyes, but he saw a small smile flit over her face as he met her eyes. 

Xenophilius sat in the armchair on the other side of the room, baby Luna resting in his arms, wide blue eyes looking at Regulus alongside her father. However, where Xeno looked concerned for him not dissimilar to his wife, the little girl was looking at him with curiosity.

“Regulus. I want you to listen to me. This doesn’t change anything. We need to continue doing what we have done, we can’t do anything for him unless you tell the world that you’re still living, and it would be too suspicious for anyone else to try. The Wizengamot is thorough. If they say he’s guilty, then he probably is.”

Her voice was soft and soothing, and Regulus managed to calm himself somewhat. “I just… I don't know what to do. It’s too dangerous for me to show myself yet, it might never be. As far as most people are aware, I’m a death eater and a coward. They’d probably try to stick me in Azkaban right alongside him.”

He paused for a moment. “I just don’t know. I want to help him, I still see him as my brother, Dora, and I can’t… I just can’t.” Tears had begun to run down his face, making his vision go slightly blurry.

“Well, in that case, we just need to keep on living until we can do something for Sirius.” She looked towards her husband. “Xeno, dear, would you be willing to make some tea? Just normal, not one of your odd concoctions, please. I’ll take Luna for you.”

The man nodded, and Pandora moved over, grabbing her daughter before sitting down beside Regulus, pulling him over so that his head was resting on her shoulder, and he reached up, wiping his tears out of his eyes.

They kept falling. Regulus didn’t know anymore what he was going to do. The Dark Lord dead, the Potter’s dead, and Sirius imprisoned.

He spent the next few hours laying there, crying all his tears while occasionally sipping on his tea, sitting on the couch alongside the only friend he had left.