The Death of Regulus Black
Regulus had always known that the stars were not there to cheer him on. Despite being named after the brightest star in the lion constellation, he had never been very brave, and then when he finally did the one courageous thing in his life the price for it was his life.
That was all so typical too. Mother always used to say that Sirius was born a little too bright and Regulus was born a little too dim. It used to hurt to hear that as a child perhaps even more than her vengeful curses had, but in hindsight she had not been wrong.
Almost like those old self-fulfilling prophecies. Every member of the most and Ancient House of Black had the power of divination in their blood. It was just like magic, everywhere. In the air. In every organism, no matter how small. In blood - Toujours Pur was not their family slogan for nothing - but most importantly: it was in the stars and names.
Names had always had power, mostly always that power would end up being a self-fulfilling prophecy too and both the Morai and Lady Magick were known to have an ironic and dark sense of humor. It was why Regulus had immediately known that Remus Lupin, who might as well have been named 'Wolfy mcWolf' was, in fact, a werewolf and why even if Regulus would not have been a Black in name and blood he never would have trusted someone like Albus - too many names to count - Dumbledore, who spoke all his true names as if it could not possibly have any consequences.
Regulus was not his only first name. Every member of every respected pureblood house had at least two. Blood Traitors like the Weasleys might have long since forgotten the Fair Folk and Elves - Kreacher's immortal family. Regulus had grown up hearing stories about them and even had gotten the honor of hearing their language, if only once. It had been so beautiful, Regulus had cried upon hearing it. As a result, Kreacher's ears had dropped sadly and told him that some things were not meant for human ears. Still, he would never forget the wonderful feeling he got when he heard that language. As if magic itself had spoken to him - but any pureblood worth their salt knew all myths and legends were true.
Of course, some of them had been entirely forgotten. Some of them had been twisted to look completely harmless by Muggles, who had remembered the core of the legend, but somehow had managed to forget literally everything else, which to be honest, was quite the achievement. And some of them were hidden in plain sight so much that even most magical humans did not believe them anymore, such as the tale of the three brothers.
Regulus knew his family history and that of the rest of Britain better than anyone else his age though. The Potter family is a direct descendant of Ignotus Peverell, the brother who asked Death for the infamous invisible cloak, which he had noticed to have been used by his brother and their gang of imbeciles called "The Marauders" during his school years. It honestly was a miracle they had not somehow managed to lose the cloak.
The Potter family was besides his own and his' betrothed the one he knew best - Not that it would mean much in the future anymore, but just like any other pureblood, Regulus had been betrothed before he could even talk. He fortunately had not been betrothed to a close cousin, that would have made him more than a bit uncomfortable, especially considering who his parents were, but he knew the family history of Anastasia Selwyn like the back of his hand.
He had to, if only to know if the Selwyn family did not have any ancient grudges with creatures (far too many ancient houses had. The house of Black fortunately had not, which had been a surprise to Regulus, considering how his family, even Sirius, had always looked down on Elves and treated them).
Not to mention that there was an enormous chance that Siri would accidentally end up being cursed by his own foolishness. Knowing the fool, he might as well have decided to ask the Potters to blood adopt him. Regulus had thanked every star in the sky that his brother never had. He would have noticed it both in looks, magic, and their brotherly bond that had become much, much fuller over the years but had never ceased to exist entirely.
He had expected the draught of Despair - Regulus had done his research. He would die here, but he would not die as an oblivious idiot - to cause hallucinations, make him despair (it WAS in the name, after all, and literally in the description of what the highly forbidden and darkest of dark potion was), but none of that happened.
His mind was still his own, his body felt a bit slow, but that was to be expected. It was not any worse than his exam periods had been, or the times he had been sick and far too tired to do anything, but had to get up from his comfortable bed anyway, as Blacks' did not slack off.
It made sense that he would feel everything too, he mused to himself as he stared at the deceivingly calm looking lake around him. Perhaps if he would not have been able to feel the sharp claws dug into his body, or the salt water immediately make the pain so much worse, it would have been a peaceful sight.
He briefly wondered if he would become an Inferi too, or if the creatures would just eat everything of him, as if he had never been here at all. He did not know what he would prefer. At least he had left a note for the Dark Lord, so that, too, did not matter in the end.
He would miss Kreacher mightily, though. Regulus knew one day he would see his friend, his brother in anything but blood again, and he hoped that it would last many, many years until he'd see him again for Kreacher deserved to live a long life, be happy, and perhaps one day even find a lady Elf like he always wanted to to have his own family with. He always joked that he would name his own Elfling Regulus too. Regulus, had in response vowed on his magick to name his future son Kreacher and by then it already had been too late to take it back. Not that he ever would have done that, though.
whiteness surrounded him.
Regulus had expected many things of the afterlife, but an entirely white version of King’s Cross railway station had not even been close to his expectations. It was better than the lake full of Inferi and the salty seawater, he supposed. What was the Muggle saying again? Something about beggars and choosers?
Once his eyes had gotten used to the overwhelmingly blankness of this place - for what else was he supposed to call it? - he noticed that he was the only one here, while there were trains waiting on multiple perrons. Were those trains supposed to take him to the afterlife? If so, it would have been quite disappointing. Why trains? Why this train station in particular?
Which train was he even supposed to board? Did one lead to a bad afterlife and to a good one? Did it not matter? Was it like Russian Roulette but in an extremely dangerous way that would have effects for all eternity? Did he have a time limit to choose?! Regulus had never been overly fond of having to make difficult choices.
"The afterlife trains will board in two minutes. I repeat, the afterlife trains will board in two minutes." cut straight through his thoughts.
It did not matter anymore, Regulus did not want to be stuck in this creepy, white, non-place for all eternity. Having become a ghost and being tethered to the living world would even have been preferable to this and everyone knew that only the truly desperate souls became ghosts.
He could barely imagine a worse fate than ending up becoming a Hogwarts Ghost. The horror! To have to deal with pestering children for all eternity! Perhaps this limbo place would have been preferable in the end after all, but Regulus knew that he would have gone completely insane in both situations. The Black madness would have struck him in a way it had not even managed to embrace dear cousin Bella.
He sprinted towards the closest train to him. It was admittedly the smallest train, but it looked familiar. While the other trains were all colorful and gigantic, this train was completely black and radiated dark magick. It reminded him of his own childhood. Of the good times, when Cissa, Meda, Bella, Siri and him still called each other by those childish nicknames with a fond and secretive smile. His nickname had been 'Reggie', of course.
The ebony black, yet elegant train reminded him of those days by the black lake that he thought would last forever. Of when the sun had been out and had given him freckles shaped like constellations, and even a swimming tan. It reminded him of when Kreacher and Siri still had barely fought, if at all. Of when mother's worse curses were stinging hexes and father was not drunk all the time. It reminded him of home.
Screeching sounds met his ears as he sat down in an empty cabin - they were all empty, not that it mattered. Not choosing an empty cabin would feel weird and Regulus had almost always been the first one to board the Hogwarts Express. This was exactly the same, but it would lead him not to the magical school he had spent most of his teenage years in, but to an afterlife.
It wasn't the fact that he apparently had been so transed by the train that he hadn't noticed boarding it and sitting down in an empty cabin, nor was it the fact that this might as well be his trip to the less pleasant part of the Underworld, as Regulus knew he had not been a saint, but it was the unfamiliar, yet entirely too familiar, invisible presence in the air that made the hairs of his neck stand up.
After waiting yet another whole minute to see whether the presence would introduce itself or themself, Regulus straightened his back. He was dead already and on his way to an unknown afterlife, what was the worst thing that could happen?
Curiosity killed the kneazle.
"My name is Regulus Black. May I know yours?" He introduced himself with a polite nod of his head.
The air around him thickened with pure death magick, until the shape of a woman stood in front of him. He could not make out her features, as every time he stopped focusing on her, he had forgotten what she looked like. He took it as a sign that it might be wise to look just next to her, to the empty wall.
But satisfaction brought it back.
What Kreacher had said about sounds after he had spoken Elvish to him must have also counted for looks; some things were not meant for human eyes to perceive.
The Lady chuckled, it was a sound that sounded unnatural, yet completely natural at the same time. Like an endless echo that only echoed in his head. "Kreacher is a wise Elf." She complimented. "You were lucky with a friend like him."
Regulus smiled softly. "He is, and I am."
"You are?" The smooth voice that yet sounded as if a million people spoke at the same time, asked.
"Of course. I may be dead, but I will always cherish the moments I had with him. Besides, after a long, long time, I will hopefully see him once more." He wasn't sure why he explained himself to this being, but it felt right.
The air around him felt somehow… lighter and Regulus couldn't help but feel like he just passed some sort of test. "Yes, you would do quite well for what I have in mind, Regulus Icarus Black."
He gulped. "May I ask your name too, fair Lady?" He asked again. She knew his true name, which meant his situation had suddenly become far more severe than he had originally anticipated.
She chuckled as if he had just told the most hilarious joke in all existence. "You may. I go by many names. Some know me as Death of the Endless, but you merely know me as Death."
He could feel his face turn as pale as the weird train station he had left behind not that long ago. This may actually be Death in front of him? As in the one from the Deathly Hallows?! Fortune had never been in Regulus's stars, but this was something different entirely.
After a moment he had given himself to let that sink in, he nodded. This might as well happen. "You mentioned something about having a plan for me?"
The being - Death! - sat down next to him, as if this was all completely normal. It might as well have been for her. Regulus would not pretend to know what a being like Death did in her daily life, nor would he be as arrogant to make any assumptions about it.
"Yes, do you know which train you have boarded?" He did not look at her face, yet he knew that she was smiling.
He shook his head.
"I thought so. It is a train not many people board willingly." She said, "You see, most people are drawn to a certain afterlife. Whether it is because they feel guilty about something, because they have lived the life of a saint or the complete opposite. Some stay in limbo forever… and some… some souls choose to get reincarnated. "
Once again, Regulus could feel his face pale.
"I see you understand, good." She spoke. Regulus couldn't help but feel like this entire situation was far more amusing to her than it was to him.
"Not many souls are drawn to reincarnation, which makes sense, I'll admit. Only those who have done me a service without expecting any rewards from me for it get this opportunity. Or those who have died far too young. You have done both."
His eyes flew open as wide as possible. "A service? So it will work in the end?" He asked. "The Dark Lord's Horcrux will be destroyed and he will become mortal once more?!" There was a hope in his voice that hadn't been there in far too long. There was a vengeful feeling in his chest that had become a constant companion over the years. Yet, now it felt more alive. Purer. Regulus was many things, but he had always been someone who could hold a grudge.
"Not in the way you would have ever expected, but yes." She answered. "Tom Marvolo Riddle is Fated to die and after that… Well, let's just say that his eternity in my domain will not be a pleasant one."
"Tom Marvolo Riddle?" He choked over his breath. "A Half-Blood?!"
Death chuckled. "Indeed. Your Dark Lord is the son of a Muggle and a Gaunt witch who was far much more on the Squib side of the scale than not. Quite ironic, no?"
A near Squib and a Muggle.. The exact kind of people The Dark Lord had hunted for sport and had made his followers hunt for sport. The Dark Lord, who never stopped preaching about the importance of blood purity, had impure blood himself.
Not knowing what to do with that information, he merely nodded blankly, still looking firmly at the blank wall in front of him. "Yes."
"I thought so too." Death replied cheerily, as if they were speaking about the fact the sun was finally going to shine again after a cold, cold winter. He supposed it was the truth from a certain point of view. Tom Marvolo Riddle was finally going to die, after all.
"You mentioned something about reincarnation?" He asked, thinking about his family. Would he be reborn as a Black again? Would he become a mighty creature during this life? Or perhaps, and incredibly ironically, a Muggle?
"So I did." Death's voices were neutral again. "As I said, you have done me a favor and as you know the story of the three brothers, you should know that I never leave a debt unfinished." She sighed. "I cannot, nor will I reincarnate you in the same world you came from. My brother, Destiny, would become insufferable."
Regret and sadness embraced his stomach like a stone he must have swallowed a lifetime ago. "I understand."
Death hummed non committedly. "You do not yet, but you will. The world you originate from will suffer more by the hands of the madman you call a Dark Lord, but eventually, it will heal, as magick always does. Death is natural, but Life is too. All things must be balanced, and to create an imbalance, the reality of that world would become imbalanced too. "
She gave him a minute of silence to think that over, before she continued. "In the world you will be reborn in, you will be powerful, as you have my blessing, which can only mean that you will be reborn with a hint of my touch on your very existence. The magick in that world will be different, but it exists."
Regulus nodded again. What else could he do? He honestly just wanted to see Evan again and give his best friend a hug and wait together with him for Barty, but one did not just say no to someone like Death herself.
"And what kind of world will I be reborn in?"
Death laughed. "Now, that would be telling, wouldn't it? I suggest you will just have to find out. What was it that Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore will one day say to impressionable ears again? Oh right! 'To the well organized mind, Death is but the next great adventure!'"
Regulus got a bitter taste in his mouth. That was exactly the kind of nonsense Dumbledore would spout. Before he could say anything else to Death, she was gone and with it, a blinding light appeared in front of his eyes.