The pit of hell
1979
Regulus Black stood at the mouth of the cave for longer than he should have. He stood there until the cold icy wind seemed to have penetrated his bones and his lips started to turn a frosty blue. It was two weeks after his eighteenth birthday and he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t make it to nineteen.
He was going to die, whether it was here in this place that felt like the pit of hell or afterwards when the dark lord found out about his deflection. He was going to die, sooner rather than later and the idea of that was terrifying. Kreacher whimpered beside him, afraid and upset for his master's fate but Regulus hardly heard him, his heart was hammering too loudly in his ears, louder even than the howling wind.
After what felt like an age he finally found the courage to do what he knew he must do. He had made many mistakes in his life, he knew that now. The burning tattoo on his arm was a constant reminder of the biggest one but he couldn’t change that now. All he could do was hope to atone for them by removing this one path to the destruction of Voldemort.
He slashed the knife into his palm, wincing at the sting as he smeared his blood onto the rough rock and when the cave mouth closed behind him, his hand finally stopped shaking. He was going to die and he accepted it. This was for Kreacher, who hadn’t deserved the pain and suffering that Voldemort had put him through and this was for Sirius who had been right all along.
The boat across to the basin was short, the only sound echoing through the cave was the quiet noise of Kreachers wet sobs. When they reached the island he passed the tearful Kreacher the fake locket with his note inside. “You know what you have to do” he said and the tears welled out of Kreacher's eyes.
“M-master please” he begged but Regulus looked away.
“You must” he said, “Im to drink this whole potion, make sure I drink it all even if I beg for it to end. Then you must switch the lockets.” He finally turned to face Kreacher as he said the last part, taking the little elf’s hands within his own “switch the lockets kreacher…and get out of here, get out of here and leave me. Destroy the necklace, destroy it beyond repair. Do you hear me?”
Kreacher nodded, still sniffling and Regulus closed his eyes. He thought about the telescope in 12 Grimmauld place, about sitting there with Sirius when they were kids and looking at the stars. Then he plunged the cup into the basin and began to drink the potion.
The pain was indescribable. If you asked him later what he saw he would not be able to recall it, his brain blocking out the trauma of just what the potion portrayed. The visions were too horrible, reality and fantasy twisted into one in a never ending horrifying nightmare. It felt like it lasted for hours and he sobbed and sobbed for it to end but it only kept going. Finally when the basin was empty, he wasn’t even coherent enough to stand, let alone open his eyes.
He didn’t feel Kreacher shaking him and sobbing over his body. He didn’t hear Kreacher switch out the necklace and cast one last regretful look at him before disappearing. He felt barely alive and then he felt thirsty. His throat felt like sandpaper, fire raging inside. He needed water right now, the thought consumed him and he was convinced that if he only had water he would be okay. He dragged his weak body across the rough stone floor towards the edge of the lake, drinking gratefully from its icy surface.
At first he didn’t notice the way the water began to move, or the bodies beginning to rise from its cool surface and when he finally did it was too late. His wand was deep in his pocket and he didn’t think that he had the strength to cast a fire charm anyway.
The hands, so cold and hard, grabbed him and began to pull him under the surface and he was so tired he didn’t even fight back. The water filled his lungs and he was burning all over again as the fire raged through him, drowning and drowning.
He didn’t notice the necklace he always wore, that’d he’d worn since he was given it as a fourteenth birthday present, dislodge itself from under his shirt. He didn’t notice that it slammed into a piece of rock and began to turn and turn and turn. Suddenly he was no longer in water and he curled on his side on the rough floor of the cave, heaving water out and throwing up all of his stomach acid before collapsing and passing out.
When he awoke a few hours later, weak but stronger after the rest, he was confused. The cave looked different. There was no longer a huge shining green lake, no longer a basin filled with potion. It was like he was in a new place entirely. He vaguely wondered if he’d managed to disapparate out of there but then he’d assumed the dark lord would have placed charms to prevent it.
Confused and still a little dis-oriented Regulus did the first thing that he could think of - he apparated home and knocked on the front door. But it wasn’t his mother who answered. Instead it was a bushy haired witch that he’d never seen before. She stared straight into his eyes with shock painted across every one of her pretty features.
“Regulus?” she breathed out and he nodded, more confused than ever.
It was at that moment that she fainted and Regulus did the only thing that he could think of, he caught her and now he was standing in the entrance way of his house with an unfamiliar witch in his arms and a dozen people pointing their wands at him from the hallway.
If he was dead, then this was one hell of a crazy start to the afterlife.