Diagon Alley
Regulus
Regulus would have rather spent a Friday night home with a good book in hand and a cup of chamomile, or watching a movie with Evan and Barty, perhaps one of the action films Evan loved so much, instead of having to wander around in the cold breeze, and what for? Nothing but yet another attack, orchestrated in order to scare wizards. The third in a month, every of them executed in different places. It had come Diagon Alley’s turn.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, curling them up in fists as he took in his surroundings: the same shops he’d gone to so often with Sirius to buy everything they needed for their new year at Hogwarts, on trips with his friends, on dates with James. There it was, the café they used to go to at least once every two weeks, as soon as they had a little more freedom from their lessons and exams: they would talk about everything, sitting at that exact table, beside the window, sipping on some Butterbeer. Regulus tried to ignore the surge of nostalgia washing over his heart: those memories were still fresh in his mind, as if he’d seen his ex-boyfriend just the day before, when, in reality, what felt like an eternity had gone by…
His wand felt heavy in the pocket of his long black coat, as if conscious of what he was about to do. About what they were about to do.
Regulus glanced over at the man walking beside him. He ran his gloved fingers through his thick brown hair, barely meeting his gaze, which focused on the scar crossing the man’s face from his left temple to the right side of his chin. Regulus never really ever talked with Voldemort’s other death eaters, he barely knew anything about them, except for his friends and another few of them.
That young man wasn’t an exception.
He’d seen him just two times before in his whole life, before he’d learned he’d have to share his little… task, with him.
Regulus barely even remembered his name. Andrew… Adam… or was it Alfred? Well, it didn’t matter, he’d always called him by his surname. He was a truce guy, enveloped by a halo of mystery Regulus didn’t even dream of uncovering. That man took every task his lord gave him so seriously he dreaded failure even more deeply than death itself.
He’d made it clear he had no intention of having a friendly chat to fill in the heavy silence broken only by their shoes stepping on small puddles after that afternoon’s rainstorm. So, they just walked. The streets were pretty crowded, they needed to get to a less packed area of Diagon Alley: of course, the point was to frighten mages, to warn them that his victory was yet to come, though they didn’t want to get caught by possible Aurors or members of the Order patrolling the surroundings. Regulus’ eyes kept on darting from one face to the other, afraid of meeting a pair of familiar eyes. Perhaps he would meet his… His chest turned upside down, and he swallowed. No, that wasn’t likely going to happen.
After more than twenty minutes spent in total quietness, his companion suddenly cleared his throat. “Aurors” he whispered.
Regulus’ eyes widened, he looked over at him. “What? Where?”.
“On our left. Don’t look in their direction, don’t speak a word” the man instructed, categorical.
He’d clenched his jaw, though his attitude was still relaxed, or at least it looked like it: his posture was straight, though his shoulders didn’t seem stiff, his arms were loose on his sides. Regulus kept his hands in his pockets, far way tenser. He didn’t dare say anything until the man gently nudged his arm, signing the threat was over. He let out a breath. He didn’t even consider the option of throwing a quick glance behind his back, too afraid of whom he could see.
His heart hammered in his chest, so loudly he was sure his companion could hear it perfectly.
“Relax, Black” he, in fact, muttered. “They’re gone”.
What if James had been there, only a few steps from him, so close but yet so distant…
“Black” the man caught his attention again. “You look-”.
“I’m fine, Kenneth” Regulus hissed.
He pressed his lips together, a hint of annoyance glistening in his eyes as they made their way through the crowd of laughing children, couples on dates, lonely people, friend groups. That idyllic peace was just about to be broken. And Regulus already felt terribly guilty for it.
“You know, Black” Kenneth spoke again, voice slightly rasping in his throat, as if he’d just gotten out of a bad cold. “I’ve never minded anyone’s business. I already have my own issues to solve before focusing on others. I don’t care about you, about what part you have in this story, in his life. But let me give you a little piece of advice: people will never care if you keep on pushing them away”.
Regulus froze at those unexpected words, the cold wind suddenly hit him harder than before.
“Says the one who never wants to talk to anyone unless it’s strictly necessary, always lost in thought, silent, standoffish, too focused on himself to even see beyond his nose” those words felt venomous on his tongue as he spat them.
Kenneth’s lips coiled up in a smile Regulus couldn’t quite decipher, of satisfaction, but also something else, something gloomier. “You do realise you just described yourself, do you?”.
And then, the question spontaneously sprung in his mind: was that really how the others perceived him?
The question arrived a second after: yes, it was. He knew it well.
He remained quiet, having no idea how to counter; he couldn’t deny the obvious. Suddenly, he felt uncomfortably vulnerable.
“The cat got your tongue, Black?” there was a hint of amusement for having left him speechless.
“That’s-”.
“Not true? You can fool anyone, but not me. I’m pretty much older than you, I’ve been through a lot. I’ve gotten pretty good at figuring people out over time”.
“You have no idea what I’ve lived through, Kenneth. You have no fucking idea”. And, for a brief, stupid moment Regulus thought of telling him. Of spitting the truth right at him: his horrible family, never feeling enough, his mother’s abuses, every curse casted upon him and his brother, Sirius’ runaway, Regulus’ self doubting, his and James’ breakup and how much it had made him suffer, his low self esteem, feeling worthless, his betrayal towards his friends for a war he’d even stopped believing in, fearing being left behind by everyone he loved because of what he’d done, his messed up life, the wish of being able to turn back time and fix what he was sure to be unfixable, how much he missed James, how much he was hurting, how much he wanted to simply stop fighting. But he obviously couldn’t. It was fine, he’d learned to push everything back, deep inside him. Though Kenneth seemed to have understood it quite well.
“Let the light in, Regulus”.
Regulus’ eyes darted on him: he’d never called him by his first name.
“Weird to hear that coming from a Death Eater, a servant of darkness itself”.
“I never chose to serve it”.
He couldn’t believe it. “What?”.
“You heard me, Black. You know nothing about my story, about my objectives. Follow my advice, if you want to change things. If not, keep on drifting into darkness, until you touch the bottom. Lose yourself. As I said before, I don’t care. I have other stuff to worry about”.
It was true. Regulus knew nothing about him. Only what he let the others see. He looked at the Death Eater for one last time, at his now stone cold eyes, covered by a veil of memories Regulus couldn’t look beyond.
Afterwards, they fell silent, but Kenneth’s words kept on echoing in his mind, like a fading chant desperate to be heard.
⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅
They finally got to a less crowded part of Diagon Alley. Regulus had openly told Kenneth he had no intention of risking hurting innocent kids, it didn’t matter what Voldemort expected from them.
The man had just nodded, and followed him through the streets he’d crossed so often.
Kenneth rested his back against a wall, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his brown bomber jacket. “Want one?” he asked Regulus, who shook his head. “I don’t smoke”.
He’d never even tried a single one of Evan’s cigarettes.
Kenneth lit it up, took a drag on it, then slowly puffed the smoke out. Its scent filled Regulus’ nostrils, and he was surprised not to perceive any pungent scent: instead, he smelled raspberries and something else, sweet, fruity. He glanced at it curious, Kenneth barely returned his gaze. Regulus then watched him put out his cigarette by letting it drop on the ground and stepping on it, and light up another one soon after. As the smoke filled his lungs once again, his muscles relaxed. He tipped his head back against the wall, exhaling.
Regulus let him be, browsing around his surroundings. People still walked down the streets, and there were no Aurors in sight, at least no familiar faces. It was the right moment to act. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and just stared at the people walking by, unable to move. He didn’t want to do that.
“What are you waiting for, Black?” Kenneth asked, casually putting out his second cigarette in the same way as the first one.
“I… I don’t know”. He knew he had to do that. He had to cast the spell. He couldn’t ignore his lord’s orders. Regulus’ grip on his wand tightened as he slowly raised it, pointing it towards the street, towards the people walking by, unaware of the threat he represented. His lips felt as if glued together, refusing to let the words out. Regulus let out a sigh and the hand holding his wand fell by his side. “I can’t do this”.
“What do you mean?” Kenneth arched a brow. Regulus didn’t know whether he could trust him. He’d told him he’d never actually really dreamed of joining Voldemort, he’d shown a kindness to him he’d never had before, though there was still too much hiding behind those icy eyes.
“I can’t” Regulus repeated, avoiding his gaze. “I can’t risk it”.
“Risk what? Your life?”.
He shook his head. “Hurting them. Killing them”.
“It’s a message for the Ministry: it won’t be able to protect the people, at least not until it gives up and allows him to step in and take control”.
“I can’t do it. I don’t want to do it”.
“It’s not as if you have much of a choice if you don’t want him to find out you turned your back on him, is it?”.
Regulus shook his head again. “I can’t. I don’t care about him. I won’t risk it”.
Something flickered in Kenneth’s eyes before he took a step forward, drawing his own wand out. “What’s someone like you doing here, Black?”.
“I don’t know” he couldn’t have been more honest.
His nails sunk in the palm of his hand as Kenneth’s lips moved in a low whisper and casted the spell.
Then, chaos.
Regulus couldn’t watch, though escaping the sight before him was simply impossible. His limbs were as if frozen. He had to stand there, petrified, witnessing what they’d just done.
He knew that wouldn’t end up there, a single spell wouldn’t have the effect Voldemort wanted.
“Let’s go, Black” Kenneth urged him, pulling his mask down. Regulus mimicked his movement, they stepped out of the narrow alley, back in the midst of the main street, a flash of light came out of his wand again, Regulus had to keep himself from covering his ears as the boom reverberated. More screams. More chaos.
Glancing around him, people were trying to find a shelter, wondering where the fuck were Aurors when they needed them. Someone else pulled their wand out, Regulus recognised the Dark Mark on their arm as they lifted it toward the jet-black sky above them. They weren’t the only Death Eaters there. Of course they weren’t. The Dark Lord soldiers had spread through the wizarding world as swiftly as an oil stain, apparently impossible to wipe away.
He had to do something. He had no idea what. Just something. Then a child’s crying came to his ears. Regulus followed the sound and locked eyes with a lonely kid, standing on the sidewalk. “Please, don’t hurt me” she cried. He let his arms fall back to his sides. “Go” he told her. “Go find somewhere to hide”.
“Helping children now?” Kenneth asked.
“They’re just kids. They don’t deserve being involved in all of this” Regulus gestured toward the crowd, smoke rising from parts of the buildings hit by spells, fire starting to rise. He had no idea who’d casted that spell. It was impossible to recognise the members of their army with masks to cover their faces. “None of them deserves this”.
Smoke filled the air, heating up with fire. It was beginning to surround them, they had to find a way out before it got to them. It was hot, too hot. Regulus couldn’t breathe. He took his mask off, desperate for some air, and coughed, a hand on his chest. He felt like he was suffocating, he could barely distinguish his surroundings now.
That was wrong. Innocent people suffering like that. It was all wrong.
“Black” Kenneth called for him, his voice sounded distant.
He shook his head, retreating in horror.
“We must go. You can’t just stand there, they’re going to find you”. Perhaps he could just… let that happen. Let them find him. Let them kill him. Let the fire devour him. He deserved it, after all.
Those intrusive thoughts spread like a tree’s roots, as more dark smoke filled his lungs. Then, steps. Coming their way.
“Shit Regulus, come on!” the note of desperation in Kenneth’s voice broke through the mist that had wrapped around his mind. He couldn’t let himself die there. His mask fell, he didn’t bother picking it up.
They made their way through a few alleys, trying to dissipate the smoke. “No fires were programmed. Those fucking fanatics and their idiotic initiatives” Kenneth cursed. Well, Voldemort wasn’t surely going to be mad: the more chaos, the better.
Regulus felt a surge of disgust mounting inside his chest, twisting uncomfortably.
They’d almost made it. Almost. Until a voice reached his ears. And time seemed to slow down.
“Fucking Death Eaters”.
Remus?!
His eyes zeroed in on a particular dark alley on his left, just about ten metres away from where he’d stopped running. Kenneth’s voice echoed as he called for him, noticing his absence: “Regulus!”.
That was when their eyes met. Regulus swallowed the lump forming in his throat as he saw him whispering his name. His hand was lying on his chest, and… he was injured. A wound sliced his flesh open, blood coated his fingertips. Next to Remus, there were Pandora and Mary, who was trying to check on Remus’ injury. He gently waved her hand off, and the girl’s eyes fixed on Regulus, just as Pandora spoke, voice thin: “Regulus? Is it really you?”.
She was injured too, probably one of the other Death Eaters’ fault.
He wanted to reach out to her. Desperately. However…
“Regulus, hurry up!” Kenneth cried, just as steps echoed, headed in their directions.
“This way! I swear I saw them heading this way!” someone yelled. Aurors.
“Reggie…” Pandora whispered, and Regulus felt his heart sink. A sad smile bloomed on her lips. She looked so tired, with locks of unkempt blonde hair slipping out of her chignon and dark backs to encircle the bottom of her eyes.
“Hurry up or we’re going to lose their traces!” another unknown voice shouted.
“Regulus, please!” it was Kenneth. Regulus threw a brief glance at him. “If they catch us, it’s the end”.
His eyes darted back on Pandora and the others. On the ones that once used to be his family. Then, she uttered the words he would’ve never expected to come from her mouth: “Come back home, Reggie”.
He couldn’t. There were too many things keeping him from even considering that idea.
Voldemort’s threat.
The plan that had started to take shape in his head.
Evan and Barty.
Kenneth, waiting for him to follow him instead of leaving him behind like everyone else would have.
Having to face James and find out he’d moved on, perhaps even fallen for someone else.
The dread of coming back and seeing everything had changed, that they’d all left him behind.
Slowly, he shook his head, the Aurors’ steps getting closer and closer. “I can’t. I don’t belong to your world, I can’t fit in it anymore”.
“Regulus!” he heard Pandora yelling one last time as he hurried after Kenneth. Her voice seemed to tear every one of his fibres apart.
⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅
They miraculously survived that night.
But they weren’t destined to both endure the rest of the war together.
Apparently, someone had eavesdropped on their conversation inside the dark alley.
The Dark Lord was furious with Regulus, of course. Though he didn’t kill him. Oh no. He decided to punish him in a far worse way.
Adam Kenneth died two days after their little adventure.
Regulus heard the news straight from Voldemort’s mouth. He was too stunned to speak, his whole body felt numb as the dark wizard grabbed his forearm, jerking him forwards. “It’s all your fault, Young Black. You killed him” those words sunk in, a deep sense of guilt washed over him. He shook his head as the Dark Lord went on: “You killed him. Yet another soul wasted because of you”.
“Stop it…” Regulus muttered, voice feeble.
“Be careful which side you choose, Black. You don’t want your beloved friends to end up the same way as Kenneth, do you?”.
“Don’t you dare lay a single finger on them” he hissed.
“That’s entirely up to you. It’s a two way road, Black: either you are my loyal soldier, or your friends will encounter Death really soon. Have I been clear enough?”.
Regulus nodded, head kept low to mask the mixture of rage and hatred filling his eyes. “Yes, my lord”.
“Good” Lord Voldemort let go of him, and he remained there, fists clenched along his sides.
He didn’t belong to Pandora’s world anymore.
Neither to James’.
Or to Voldemort’s.
So it was true, after all: he really was nobody's son. A soul destined to never find its way to a home that didn’t even exist.