Ligilimens
“Come on, Reggie. You’re with me today.” A cold hand grips his arm and tugs him up from his seat at the table.
Regulus sends his cousin a look. “Where?”
“Here and there. Around. You’ll figure it out. Let’s go.” Bellatrix loops her arm through his and Regulus goes stiff.
“Just us?”
“You don’t want any special bonding time with your favorite cousin?” Bellatrix fake pouts. “But no, we're bringing Rabby.”
As if on cue Rabastan steps out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his pants. “I’ll meet you there, Bella.” He says, looking Regulus up and down. The slow drag of his gaze sends goosebumps breaking out across his skin. “I need to have a talk with Walburga. You two go on ahead.”
“Ugh. Fine. Reggie, come on.”
They step out on the stoop of Grimmauld place and Regulus blinks against the harsh sunlight.
Bellatrix grips his arm tighter and Regulus winces, bracing himself for what's about to come. “Hold on to your breakfast!” She cackles as she turns on her heel and the world begins to spin.
Regulus stumbles a bit when they land, fighting off a wave of dizzing nausea. Groaning, he looks around. Bellatrix laughs, wild hair bouncing around her face. “Don’t recognize it?”
Regulus nods reluctantly. He knows where they are, alright. He just doesn’t want to be here.
He’d visited Knockturn Alley countless times as a kid, but it’s been a few years since he’s been back. It still smells the same, he realizes. Like rat piss and fermented liquor.
“We’re going to Borgin’s.” Bellatrix crosses to the alley wall and leans up against it, the trail of her dress resting in a slightly brown puddle.
Regulus wrinkles his nose. “Why?”
“Dark Lord needed some errands done.” Bellatrix clicks her tongue. “But we have to wait for Rabby. Can’t go in alone.”
“Why not?”
She shrugs. “He knows what we need.” A rat scurries across the cobblestone in front of them and before he can blink, Bellatrix has out her wand.
“Cruicio!”
The rat shrieks, falling to the ground and twitching with agony. Regulus’s stomach twists. He forces himself to stay relaxed, looking up at Bellatrix with a bored drawl. “In broad daylight? Anyone could see.”
She turns to him with a wild glint in her eye. The rat continues to scream. “I’ll hex them too, then.” She waves her wand and the rat goes still. “Your turn.”
Regulus just shakes his head, calm. “Not now.”
“Yes. Now. Imperio .”
Regulus braces himself but it’s the rat that seems to twitch before standing, unnaturally immobile. Bellatrix flicks her wand and the rat walks towards Regulus with an odd sort of forced gait. Regulus rolls his eyes. “Do we have time for this?”
“We have all the time in the world, Reggie.”
The rat crawls up Regulus’s shoe and Regulus kicks it away, trying to bite back the childish sting of fear. He hates rats.
“Your choice.” Bellatrix says, tipping her head to the side. “You’ve got three options. Do you need any of them demonstrated?”
“I’m alright, thanks.” Regulus keeps his arms crossed.
“Reg-gie,” Bellatrix sing-songs. “You don’t want me telling Mummy you had trouble with a little rat, do you? What’ll she think?”
“Crucio.”
The rat once again screams and drops to the ground, rolling in front of Regulus's feet. He watches it lazily. Bellatrix claps her hands with delight.
“There you go! Little Reggie, all grown up.” She laughs and kicks the shrieking rat. “Much better.”
Regulus just rolls his eyes. “Happy?”
“Delighted. Finish it.”
“Avada Kedavra.” The flash of green reflects off the bricks of the walls, glinting on Bellatrix’s sharp teeth as she grins. The rat stops squeaking, prone and limp on the floor. Regulus sighs, ignoring the clench of his gut, tucking his wand away. “When’s Rabastan getting here?”
“Soon.”
As if on cue the air twists in front of them and Rabastan appears, taking a single steadying step. “Good. You waited.”
“Oh yes.” Bellatrix smiles. “We were practicing.”
Rabastan eyes flick to the rat on the floor and he sighs. “Fine. Are you ready?”
“Won’t you tell us what we’re here for, Rabby? What are we buying?”
“Not buying anything.” Rabastan crosses his arms and Regulus feels his brows pinch in confusion.
“Why are we here, then?”
“The Dark Lord requires we find an item. Or rather, make sure an item cannot be found.”
Bellatrix pushes off the wall. “So we’re checking the store to see if it’s there?”
Rabastan nods gruffly.
“Ugh. That’s dull.”
“Yes, well, not to the Dark Lord. Let’s go.” The two of them start off towards the store. After a beat Regulus joins them.
The bell goes off jarringly as they enter, making Regulus flinch slightly. Bellatrix makes a beeline for the front desk where a pudgy old man sits hunched over a ledger.
“Bella! And young Regulus. How lovely to see you. What can I do for you today?”
Bellatrix opens her mouth to respond but Rabastan pushes past her, resting a heavy hand on the counter. “We need to see if you have a book. A diary.”
The old man pushes his glasses up his nose. “A diary, you say? Who’s?”
Rabastan grunts. “Tom Riddle.”
Something icy drips down Regulus’s spine. He takes a step forward. Rabastan ignores him, staring at the old man. “Do you have it?”
The man tuts, frowning. “Perhaps. I’d need to check.” He stays firmly in his seat.
Rabastan reaches into his pocket to pull out some coins, but Bellatrix beats him to it. Her wand’s under the old man’s chin in a flash. “Would you like to know which name Tom Riddle goes by now?” The old man’s eyes glitter, focused on her face. He says nothing and Bellatrix takes that as an invitation. “Lord Voldemort. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? You’re not Borgin, or Burke, so I’m not entirely sure what you’re doing here. But surely you’re smart enough to piece together that we have no qualms about doing whatever we deem necessary to secure that journal.” Bellatrix licks her lips. “Oh, and it’d be such fun too.”
Regulus can’t move. Lord Voldemort? So Tom Riddle, the Basilisk’s boy, was Voldemort? He valiantly attempts to piece everything together. The timing worked, and from what he’d heard of the Basilisk’s mission the morals checked out as well. It answered a lot of questions about Regulus’s task, too. But why had he left the Basilisk? And why were they here now, looking for his diary?
“Mm. Master Borgin will not be happy. But very well, I’ll take a look.” The old man eases himself off the stool and waddles to a bookcase, slowly pursuing the titles and muttering to himself.
“God, I hate old men.” Bellatrix groans, dramatically throwing herself back against the counter. “They smell dreadful , all the time.”
Regulus clears his throat. “Do you know why the Dark Lord wants his old diary?”
“I didn’t ask.” Rabastan looks him over again in that horribly uncomfortable way. “I suggest you don’t either, boy.”
“Have you gotten the mark yet?” Bellatrix rolls her head down to look at him. “I’ve forgotten who has and who hasn’t.”
Regulus shakes his head and bares his arm, rolling up his sleeve. She tuts. “Soon, then. I can’t imagine Walburga wants to wait much longer.” She gives him a knowing look. “Especially after…”
“I’m not my brother.”
She bares her teeth. “I guess we’ll have to see. That rat out there’s a step in the right direction. He refused to hurt the smallest of creatures, as I’m sure you remember. Quite weak, that one.”
Regulus holds her gaze. “I’m not weak.”
It takes a second, really, only a second, before she’s shoving her way into his head. Regulus grabs the counter as his mind splits into pain. She’s digging through memories like one would dig through a closet, grabbing them and then roughly throwing them aside. Regulus can’t focus on anything except trying to keep James away from her. He holds the memories tight, fortifying his walls with his resolve. But Bellatrix has always been stronger and her mind sharper, and soon Regulus feels himself begin to crack.
Someone clears their throat and Bellatrix pulls out of his head with an agonizing precision. Regulus is left gasping, clutching the counter in an attempt to stay upright. “Uh oh,” She whispers, head bent and lips close to his ear. “A bit of a close call there, eh?”
The old man, the one Regulus assumes cleared his throat, is wringing his hands. “No luck, Miss. No diary here.”
Rabastan nods in satisfaction as Bellatrix straightens up. “Good. Alert us the second something comes in matching that description. You know where to find me.”
Regulus is still trying to focus on actually getting air into his lungs. Currently, it’s proving quite the struggle. Someone says his name, quick and sharp, and he does his best to straighten, pulling his shoulders back like he’s been trained to. He’s still breathing heavily as he follows his cousin out into the street.
She turns and grins at him. “We’ll have to talk later, you and I. Maybe after dinner? The whole family will be there, you know. Cissy’s bringing Lucius.”
He nods stiffly, still reeling. She winks at him and sends Rabastan a little wave. “Bye, Rabby,” She calls, taking Regulus’s arm. Rabastan gives Regulus one last slow look before he turns and vanishes on the spot. Bellatrix digs her nails into Regulus’s forearm and apprerates them back to Grimmauld place. He lands with a wobble, ignoring Bellatrix and pushing through the door.
He goes straight to his room.
---
When he and Sirius were little, they used to detest family dinners. The air was always thick with formality and there was so much pressure to behave it felt like one wrong word and their mother might snap. They’d sit next to each other, every time, pressed against the wall. Regulus always thought it was awfully reminiscent of a cage.
His back’s to the wall again, but Sirius is nowhere to be found. Regulus somehow finds the table no less stuffy than he did as a kid.
“Walburga…” Bellatrix traces a nail over the rim of her wine glass.
“Yes?”
“I believe Reggie could do with some legilimency lessons. Would you let me teach him?”
Regulus feels himself freeze up, going stiff. The thought of Bellatrix’s sharp fingers constantly prying into his mind, trying to scratch out his most painful secrets nearly shuts Regulus off completely. He feels his face lock down just as his mother sends a glance his way.
“I fear it’s too early. He’s not ready for that kind of invasion.”
Bellatrix shakes her head, hair flying. “Today on our errand he was unable to properly resist my attempts. What’s he going to do if Dumbledore gets ahold of him? He’s on that mission from the Dark Lord, we all know it. It’s only a matter of time till Dumbledore knows it too.”
Walburga seems to consider, staring hard at Regulus. He can feel the waters thick and heavy, rising like they always do under her gaze. “I suppose he’ll have to learn eventually.”
Don't.
Please.
“Fine. Bella, you teach him. Not too harsh, I need him mentally sound.” Walburga picks up her knife again. She cuts into her steak as Bellatrix hums happily and turns to face him.
“There you go, cousin. We’ll start later this week. And smile, for once. It’ll be fun.”
But Regulus can’t smile. He can’t do anything except stare at his plate, hand clenched into a fist under the table.
“Regulus.” He looks up sharply at his name, his father’s cold eyes cutting into him from across the table. “Eat your food.”
Regulus nods and chokes down a bite of potatoes. He’s sure they’re as full of flavor as boiled potatoes can be- but to him they taste like nothing but mush and decay. He swallows carefully and raises his eyes. “May I ask a question?” Walburga gives him a curt nod and he continues. “Why would the Dark Lord change his name from Tom Riddle?”
Across the table, his father goes stiff. “He was growing into his power,” Lucius says, spearing some vegetables. “He needed a new name to go with his new being. Why do you care?”
Regulus clears his throat. “I was just curious. What power?”
”Don’t ask questions about things you needn’t concern yourself with, Regulus. It’s rude.”
“Sorry, Maman.” Regulus ducks his head. He shouldn’t have pushed his luck. Out of the corner of his eye he notices Narcissa frown at him slightly.
“The Dark Lord is planning an attack with Dolohov and Rabastan later this week in Birmingham. I expect he’ll target a few of the ministry workers that live there.” Orion takes a small sip of wine. “Bellatrix, has he approached you with any plans?”
Bellatrix sighs and shakes her head. “No. My Lord has requested I stay out of this one. My skill sets are not as… delicate as he’d need them to be.”
“Do we have a meeting this week?” Lucius shifts in his seat and Regulus forces himself to take another bite.
Narcissa shakes her head. “Not that I know of. Not a full group meeting.”
“I don’t know when he’ll stop by.” Walburga looks up. “We’re not scheduled for anything currently.”
“Ah. Not even to ask for a progress report on Regulus?” Lucius asks.
Regulus’s hand jerks at the sound of his name. His mother sniffs. “I couldn’t presume to know the Dark Lord’s intentions.”
“Oh Walburga, there’s no need.” Bellatrix lets out a little laugh. “Lucius, yes. I imagine it’s to see how our little heir is doing.”
Little heir sounds too much like Little Prince, and suddenly Regulus finds himself missing the Basilisk. A week and a half, he tells himself. Just a week and a half, and he’ll be back at school. He’ll see James. He’ll visit the chamber. And then…
The reminder of what he still has to do hits him so hard he chokes and then coughs on his food. Bellatrix claps him on the back, rough. “Too much pressure for you, Reggie? Scared?”
Regulus shakes his head, still trying to remember how to breathe. “I’m fine. Désolé.”
“Eh. I’ll suppose we’ll know soon enough.” Bellatrix leans down to whisper in his ear. “I’m so excited to get a good peak into that little head of yours.” Regulus shoots her a cold look and she cackles. “So stoney! I can’t wait to watch you break .”
Sometimes Regulus wonders what tragic event in her past made her so horribly insane. He’s never asked. Maybe he should.
“Bella, lay off him.” Narcissa refills her wine and directs her attention to Walburga. “Have you managed to secure the inheritance money from Alphard’s will?”
Walburga sighs. “Not yet. The ministry’s being difficult because he was technically disowned so we aren’t entirely next of kin.”
“But hasn’t Sirius been legally emancipated?” Narcissa asks. Regulus notices his mother’s eyes harden.
“Not legally, no. Not yet. We wanted to wait because of something like this.”
“So technically he’s not the next of kin either.”
“Yes, but he was the only one Alphard dictated in his will,” Orion explains.”We’re still working on it, but right now the Ministry doesn’t seem to be on our side.”
“Traitors stick together.” Bellatrix hums. “Slimy gits.”
Kreature appears, magic popping as plates of desert appear on the table. A platter of bread pudding falls directly in front of Regulus.
Regulus sets down his fork. “May I please be excused?”
Walburga sends him a lazy glance. “You’ve hardly eaten anything.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not hungry right now.”
“After Kreature worked so hard?”
Regulus knows to stay silent, waiting. Eventually Walburga nods and flicks her hand. “Go. Leave the adults to talk. No eavesdropping.”
Regulus nods and mutters a quick thank you before ducking out and up to his room. As soon as he opens the door Kreature appears with a pop. “Master Regulus isn’t eating anything, so Kreature is bringing him some rolls from dinner.” He sets down a plate with two bread rolls on Regulus’s bedside table. “Did Kreature make something Master Regulus isn’t liking?”
“Thank you Kreature. No, everything was delicious. I just wasn’t hungry.”
Kreature nods suspiciously and points to the rolls. “Master Regulus must eat those now, otherwise he’ll be having not enough food. Kreature notices Master Regulus didn’t eat lunch either.”
Regulus smiles to himself. Kreature must be in a constant state of concern. Regulus never eats much when he’s home- the food all turns to rot the second his mother opens her mouth. “Thank you Kreature. I will.”
Kreature gives him another nod and a look and then vanishes with a pop, leaving Regulus alone with the dark and his bread rolls. He settles cross legged onto his bed, closing his eyes. He takes off his shirt, shivering slightly in the cold. He runs a hand over his shoulder, fingers exploring light scars.
Regulus's fingers trace the contours of his body, a shadowed silhouette against the faint moonlight filtering through the window. His touch lingers over the protrusion of his ribs.
He’s far too skinny; he has been for a while. Something about this house hollows him out. But James. Oh, James. He’d watched him with wide eyes, had touched him in much the same way Regulus’s doing now but with a thousand times more reverence. He’d whispered soft praise into his ear, and Regulus had never felt more full.
Regulus shakes his head, settling his hands back on his knees. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind. He plies his thoughts into a mountain of sand, letting them crumble and dissolve on the tide of each breath. He focuses on that, the endless tide, until all that’s left is an empty sea of nothingness.
This time, he stays afloat.
---
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in your room before.” Pandora looks around, settling herself on the bed. Regulus stares at her.
“Why are you here?”
She tilts her head. “I wanted to see you. It’s been almost a week and you haven’t responded to my letter.”
“...I’ve been busy.”
“Liar.” She cuts him a look. “Why have I never been here before?”
“The only reason you’re here now is because my parents are out. They’d never have let you in.” (He, of course, had no choice. The second Kreature opened the door she was bounding up the stairs to find him.) Regulus folds his arms, slightly uncomfortable. He’s never had a friend here before- it’s an odd mix of his two worlds. He doesn’t like it.
...He does have to admit her presence is annoyingly calming.
“Would you like to go for a walk or something? You look like you haven’t seen the sun in five years.”
Regulus just stares at her, taking a shaky breath. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Anything to get her out .
They step into the hall, Regulus glancing around carefully. Pandora follows him, admiring the wood paneling that never seems to shine no matter how many times Kreature waxes it. “Who’s room is that?”
She’s pointing, naturally, to the one directly across the hall. He doesn’t need to look. “Sirius’s.” Pandora doesn’t say anything, taking a soft breath.
They get to the bottom of the stairs and Regulus calls for Kreature, letting him know they’re going out. “If Mother arrives before I do, let her know I’ve gone out for a quick errand and I’ll be home shortly. Can you do that for me, Kreature?”
“Of course, Master Regulus. Kreature lives to serve the Noble House of Black.” He bends himself into a low bow before vanishing into thin air.
“Hm.” Pandora murmurs. Regulus shoots her a look.
“What?”
“You’re just very… soft with him.”
“Fuck off.”
Regulus steps out onto the stoop and immediately wants to go back inside. “Dora, it’s bright.”
“Yes. That would be the sun.”
“Ugh.” But the cold air is crisp in Regulus’s lungs, and he likes the way it bites. “Why are you really here?”
Pandora sighs, tossing her head back to stare at the sky. “Does it matter?”
Regulus just shakes his head, shoving his hands in his pockets and starting to walk. Pandora catches up to him quickly. “How’s your break going?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you should respond to my letters.”
“Mm.”
“Have there been any more meetings? Barty and Evan haven’t said anything.” Pandora kicks a pebble and Regulus watches it bounce down the sidewalk.
“No. I don’t think there’ll be any all break. Doesn’t have anything to say, I guess.”
“What are you doing later this week, then? We were thinking about going out.”
Regulus grimaces. “Legilimency training with Bellatrix.”
Pandora looks up at him. “Really?”
He nods, keeping his eyes on his feet. “It’ll be fine.”
“Do your parents know? I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Regulus snorts. “They gave her the go-ahead. Dora, I’ll figure it out.”
“Regulus, she’s ruthless.”
“You should meet my mother.” The words slip from Regulus's lips before he can stop them, hanging heavy in the air. His steps falter on the sidewalk, his body freezing in place as if rooted to the ground. Pandora comes to a stop as well, her gaze piercing through him with an intensity that leaves him feeling raw and exposed.
“I’ve heard things about your mother,” She says eventually, voice gentle and melodic.
"She's not all bad," he murmurs, starting to walk again.
They cross the next few blocks in silence, listening to the sway of the trees. Pandora breaks it. “Dorcas told her parents she was gay,” She says finally.
Even here, when there’s no one to bear witness but the birds, Regulus feels a familiar surge of fear shoot up his spine. He glances around instinctually and she smiles softly. “Reg. It's fine.”
He thinks of the scars on his arm and almost wants to laugh. He holds it in.
“Sorry.” He clears his throat. “How’d it go?”
“Well. Not lovely, I suppose. Not as bad as she expected, though. They aren’t kicking her out, or anything. Just… a difference of opinion.”
Dorcas had told him she was gay in third year. She’d been crying when he found her, tucked under the staircase. Obviously afraid. He’d had, of course, no idea how to respond, simply staring at her. His brother had long since taught him you couldn’t say things like that. Not if you wanted to stay a member of the Black family. Not if you wanted to survive.
But this was Dorcas, and she was different. She had more freedom. She wasn’t him. So eventually he’d offered a hesitant smile and a whispered promise not to tell anyone, and she’d beamed and hugged him, telling him she knew he’d understand. He didn’t mention the depth of his understanding; that, no one had to know. So he tucked all his secrets (including James Potter’s smile) down deep and focused on supporting his friend.
“They aren’t mad?” He hates the persistent fear in his voice.
“Hm. They are. They’re still purebloods. But… she’s ok.”
Regulus takes a shuddering breath, looking up at the clouds. “Ok.” He repeats.
He can feel her eyes on him. “You’re curious about something.” Her hair falls over her shoulder in a blond wave, the charms she braids into it clinking slightly in the breeze.
“I- I didn’t know you knew. About Dorcas, I mean. When did she tell you?”
Pandora blinks. “She didn’t. I’ve always known.”
“Like my parseltongue?”
Pandora thinks about that for a moment. “Yes.”
Thank you, he says softly and watches as her eyes flick to his. Thank you for not saying anything.
“You look natural like that.” She hums, watching him. “Those words seem… right for you.”
Regulus holds her eyes, considering. “Are you ok with Dorcas?”
“Yes.” She says, with no hesitation. “I am.”
“Is Evan? Is Barty? Is Snape, or Mulciber?”
“Evan… maybe. Barty, not yet. Snape and Mulciber probably not.”
“See? It’s not safe for her.”
Pandora gives him a look. “You mean it’s not safe for you.”
Regulus breath catches, stomach plunging. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat. It’s irrational, he tells himself. To be this scared. Especially around Pandora. But…
Pandora studies him for a moment as he tries to find words. “Forget I said anything. I’m sorry. Did I tell you? We got a puppy. My mother insisted. He’s very cute, but I feel like he knows more than he’s letting on. My father says I’m crazy, but then again everyone does.”
She keeps talking, letting him calm down. He focuses on his breathing, latching on to her words. Using them as a tether to climb out of whatever dreadful pit of panic he’s shoved himself into.
“Anyway, I take him on walks but I still can’t quite trust him. I don’t know what it is. I think it’s something about the eyes. They’re too big.”
“Just like you, to accuse a puppy of hiding something.” Regulus’s voice is scratchy, but it works nonetheless. Pandora doesn’t react.
“Yes, well, I’m right about most things. This is no different.”
They turn around the block, turning back towards Grimmauld Place. Regulus glares at it as they approach. Pandora loops her arms through his. “I expect a letter, you know. Especially after your training with Bellatrix. I need to know you’re still mentally sound.”
“I’ll consider it.” The truth is Walburga intercepts any letters Regulus sends out, burning them in the fireplace. She doesn’t particularly approve of any of his friends, save Evan.
Pandora leans up, kissing him on the cheek. “Good luck,” she calls, turning and walking off in the direction they came from. Regulus watches her go for a minute before turning back to the house.
“Kreature tells me you went on an errand.”
Walburga’s waiting for him at the kitchen table, reading a paper. Regulus nods stiffly. “I went on a walk. With a friend.”
She flips a page. “Who?”
“Pandora.”
“I’ve told you time and time again you shouldn’t associate with those types of people. They bring nothing but trouble.” She folds up the paper, standing up. “And don’t consider getting into a relationship now, Regulus. We’re going to have to find you a more suitable match in the near future. Best, for your own sake, to keep all options open. It’ll hurt less that way.”
“Don’t worry.” Regulus looks down. “We’re just friends.”
“Hm.” Walburga watches him like a hawk would watch a mouse. “Keep it that way.”
She walks into the living room and Regulus knows he’s expected to follow her. He does, of course, albeit a little stiffly. Walburga settles into an armchair. “When the Dark Lord stops by again, what will you tell him? Have you completed your task?”
Regulus looks down. “I just need a little more time.”
Walburga sends him a sharp look and he nearly flinches from that alone. “You’ve had time, Regulus. You can’t keep letting him down like this. You do realize your actions reflect on the House of Black as a whole? If you’d stop being so desperately selfish you’d understand that everything isn’t always about you. What you do makes us all look bad.”
“I’m sorry, Maman.”
“I don’t want your apologies. I want progress. It’s a simple task, yes? Retrieve the Basilisk’s fangs. I don’t understand what’s taking so long.”
“I…”
“A knife? Is that what you need?” Walburga waves her wand, summoning something small from the other room. She catches it gracefully and as he watches she finds a catch and flicks it open. It instantly extends into a long hunting knife. The sight of the blade nearly makes Regulus sick. “Here.” She crosses to him slowly, reaching out her hand. He hesitates and then holds his arm out for her to take. She grabs his palm instead, yanking it towards her.
Carefully she presses the knife feather-light against his skin. It’s so gentle he doesn’t feel it, just knows it’s there. As he watches a line of red appears beneath the blade, blood pooling in the cup of his palm. He feels nothing. Walburga draws the knife back, wiping it on her sleeve before flicking it shut. His hand begins to sting a moment later and he hisses through his teeth.
“You see? Sharp enough to cut through nearly anything.” She hands the knife to him and he takes it with his clean hand, trying to keep his fingers steady. Regulus wants to throw it out the window. Instead, he pockets it.
“Thank you, Maman.”
“Regulus?”
“Yes?”
“Use it.”
He swallows. “Of course.”
Walburga lets out a small breath. “How are you doing with classwork?”
“I’m all done. I did it the first day.”
She narrows her eyes. “Were you rushing?”
“No.”
“Then why were you able to get it done so quickly?"
Regulus shifts on his feet. "I didn't have that much."
“Why are you taking classes that give you so little work?”
Regulus falters. “I- I don’t know. I’m sorry. I can ask for more, if you’d like.”
“This isn’t about what I’d like, Regulus. I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it for you. This is your future I’m trying to set up here. The least you could do is show some drive.”
“Of course, Maman. I’ll ask for more. I can handle more.”
She nods curtly. “Good. It’s your job now, to keep Dumbledore away from us. From this.” She motions to the room at large.
Regulus swallows, looking down. “Of course.”
Walburga takes a step forward and he flinches.
Shit.
“You haven’t told me something.” She narrows his eyes and Regulus opens his mouth to explain- but it’s too late.
She’s in his head and he doesn’t even try to hide, offering up all the memories he has of Dumbledore. She scrapes through them, scouring every inch. The veritaserum in his tea, spilled across Dumbledore's office carpet. The truths ripped out of him against his will. Her letter, clutched in his frail hand and locked in a desk drawer. Regulus can’t help but stumble as she rips herself out, furious.
It takes one good curse and he’s on his knees in front of her, unnaturally still.
“You lied.” She spits, wand raised.
He shakes his head. “I- I couldn’t tell you. If he found out you knew it’d be worse-”
But another curse silences him and he falls forward, catching himself with one hand. The fibers of the rug dig into the cut on his palm.
“He was monitoring our mail and you said nothing? Do you know how many plans you could’ve betrayed? Could’ve ruined?”
Regulus tries to compose himself. He can take this. It’s nothing new, after all. “I’m sorry, Maman. I was afraid of-”
“Afraid. You gave away the Dark Lord’s precious secrets and didn’t tell us, and you’re afraid? It’s not him you should be afraid of, boy.” She takes another step and suddenly she’s right in front of him, glaring. "The Dark Lord is your master now. You serve him. You put him above everyone. Do not apologize to me."
"You're going... are you going to tell him?" Regulus can't breathe past the fear crawling up his throat.
Walburga stares at him for a long moment, and for a split second, he can see something in her eyes soften. A silent war. She presses her lips into a thin line, staying silent.
It doesn't matter. Regulus knows.
She'll see him hurt, sure, but she needs him alive.
She won't say anything.
After a moment, she turns and walks out.
---
“Can Kreature make Master Regulus feel better in some way? He’s looking sad.” Kreature twists his pillowcase nervously.
Regulus closes his eyes, shaking his head. “No thank you, Kreature. I’ll be alright.”
“Master Regulus is saying he has a task for me?”
“Oh- yes. Can you please put this in my trunk upstairs?” Regulus pulls the folded knife out of his pocket and hands it to Kreature who takes it curiously.
“Of course, Master Regulus.”
“Thank you.”
Kreature bows then disappears into the air. Regulus stares after him. Sometimes he wonders if Kreature’s the only thing in this house worth saving.
---
“Legilimens.”
Regulus cries out again, shoving his hands over his ears as if to block her out. Bellatrix advances on him, already scratching at the locked box inside his mind. He’s sore and aching- not only from his mother’s realization the other day, but from Bellatrix’s repeated intrusions into his head. Each one is sharper than the last, as if it’s her physical nails prying into his mind.
“Stop.” Regulus grits, shaking so hard he can’t see straight.
She cackles, tossing her head back. “You want me to stop? Then force me out. Resist.”
“Bella… Walburga asked you to go easy on him.” Narcissa crosses her arms and Regulus glares at her.
“Where’s the fun in that? He’s strong, anyway, so it doesn’t matter. I’ve seen everything except...” Bellatrix shoves herself back in, going directly for the memories Regulus doesn’t even let himself go near. Can’t even think about- for fear of her seeing them too.
“He’s going to crack soon, I can feel it.” Bellatrix clicks her tongue, withdrawing and staring down at him. They’re in the courtyard behind Grimmauld Place; and they have been for the past two hours.
“The goal isn’t to make him crack, it’s to teach him how to resist.” Rodolphus lounges on the ground, leaning against the wall. He’s fiddling with a stick, snapping it into more and more pieces.
Bellatrix raises her wand. “Perhaps a crucio will remind him.”
Narcissa steps forward. “Bella, no. Look at him. His mother already… I mean- you can tell, can’t you? He won’t be able to take that right now.”
Regulus wants to spit that she knows nothing, that he’ll do whatever it takes, but part of him worries she’s right. He lost his ability to stand a while ago, hunched over himself on the ground. He needs to focus, needs to find a way to block her out- but how can he when all his energy’s focused on protecting James?
He’s kept that secret since he was eleven. He’s not about to give it up now.
“Regulus. Put up walls. Expand them out.” Narcissa moves to stand next to her sister, looking down at him. “Resist her.”
“How?” He hisses, and he knows it sounds a little too much like parseltongue. He can’t find it in himself to care.
“You’re protecting something. Use that drive, that resolve, to force her out entirely.”
Bellatrix pouts. “You’re giving him all the answers, Cissy. Ruining my fun. Legilimens!”
Regulus can’t bite back the cry he lets out as she pierces through him again. He can feel her magic, purple and white-hot, snaking its way into his head. It’s like a snake, a tether between him and her. He tries to think about what Narcissa said, tries to expand his walls, but that just leaves him more vulnerable. In desperation he instinctually flings a curse at her and she rips out of his head, chuckling.
“Got a little too close there, did I?” She whispers, leaning over him. “Almost saw something.”
“Si vous plait,” He tilts his head up at her, trying to condense all his anger and fury into one look. “Laisse-moi tranquille.”
“Are you begging, little heir?”
He narrows his eyes. Never.
And wasn't English or French, but it no longer matters because she’s raising her wand again. “Ligilimens!”
He’s ready this time. She’s going for James again, but Regulus focuses on her magical energy. On the snake of power weaving its way into his thoughts. He’s a Slytherin and a Parselmouth- snakes are what he knows best.
He imagines the pile of sand thoughts again, building it around his memories of James. A tower of emotions and secrets and worries, getting slowly washed away by the tide of his breathing. Like the other night, he pictures the sea of nothingness. Wave after wave of empty, blank feeling. Everything, gone. It’s slow and methodical, but he’s been practicing. He just didn’t think he’d be able to try it so soon: Bellatrix left little room for the focus needed to withhold the state. He thought he’d have to force her out, but perhaps all he has to do is force himself out instead.
He shudders.
Breath in.
Out.
Another emotion gone, disappeared beneath the waves.
In.
Out.
His mother, his brother, all drowning. He lets them, watches as they disappear.
In.
Out.
James.
In.
Out.
He can feel his physical body lurching with effort- or maybe someone's sending a curse at him. He’s too focused on his breath to tell.
In.
Out.
Blank.
Empty.
Nothing.
Bellatrix pulls back, crying out in frustration. She aims a hard kick to the middle of Regulus’s chest and he falls to his back, panting with exertion. He can do nothing but gasp as she leers over him.
“So, you did learn something then. Maybe you aren’t so useless after all.” Another kick to the ribs.
Narcissa chuckles. “Stop being a sore loser, Bella.” She glances down at Regulus. “You did well. Your mother will be happy. Let’s let him rest now. We’ll come back to this tomorrow. He’s made a start- that’s all we wanted.”
From the wall, Rodolphus grumbles in agreement and stands up. Bellatrix gives him one last seething look and struts out of the courtyard, sister and husband following close behind.
Regulus chokes out a gasp he’d been holding in, all his muscles turning to jelly in relief. He’s sore and aching and in so much pain- he can do nothing but stare at the darkening sky and shiver. He can’t move, can’t talk, trying to pull himself back together. Are his ribs broken? Probably.
When he does pull himself to his feet night has long fallen. He stumbles to the wall, grabbing on to it for support and vomiting behind a flower bush. He’s so used to the taste by now that he just wipes his mouth, grimacing. His head pounds in pain- it’s potentially the worst migraine he’s ever had. He can barely see, the world's spinning so hard.
He practically crawls to his door, shoving it open and leaning against the frame. His room is dark and chilly, dreadfully small. He’s shaking but he’s not sure if it’s from the cold or just… him. He’s alone, he realizes. Alone and entirely ruined.
He imagines going to the window, throwing it open. He’d half climb, half fall to the ground. He’d pick himself up and disappear into the night, too quick for anyone to notice. He knows the Potter's address- James practically shoved it down his throat. He’d force himself up their steps, basking in the orange glow seeping through the windows and the crack under the door. He’d knock and it’d open immediately, Euphemia Potter waiting on the other side. She’d understand, of course. Sirius had been here too. She’d know what to do. She’d guide him past the threshold and James would come down the stairs, grinning wildly. “You did it Reg,” he’d whisper, taking him in his arms. “You did it. You’re alright now.”
He’d lead him to the couch and Sirius would be there, already running to get the first aid kit. Euphemia would patch him up and Sirius wouldn’t ask him to explain because he’d already know. The house would be warm and golden, smelling of spices and James’s shampoo. Somewhere the radio would be playing, soft love songs drifting from the kitchen. Euphemia would pull out her wand and fix the cuts on his face and ribs, Sirius handing her bandages for those that couldn’t be magically healed. James would sit on his other side, the back of his hand just barely brushing Regulus’s pinky. A secret reassurance, a hidden affection. He’d sink into the cushions and let his head rest back against them- exhausted but safe. Warm. Golden.
Back in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the night rattles against the wooden shutters. The dark cold seems to seep in from every corner, numbing him to his core. He makes it to his bed, mattress creaking under his weight. He aches as he curls into himself, trying to muffle the tears that quietly slip from his lashes. Around him, the house stays silent, lonely. He’s shivering uncontrollably- it’s as if the cold has permeated his very marrow at this point. It won’t matter how many blankets he buries himself under- it’s in his bones. The dark presses in from every angle, its frigid grip leaving him utterly and entirely alone.
Across the room, his window stays closed.