somewhere, in Death’s excerpts
I am haunted by humans. And quite often, their lack of humanity bewilders me. Whether they own some of that magical blood in their veins or, perhaps unfortunate for them, they don’t, they never cease to come up with cruel ways to force it to spill out of one another. I must admit, I have always believed they might be overestimating me. My schedule is quite thick and dense already, you see. My arms are getting tired. Tired from carrying too many, and from always doing so in a rush.
I could tell you countless stories. Ones of battles, illness, murder. Ones of stupidity and ones of bravery, and plenty involving both. Some of arrogance, which are painfully long and unfair, both for me and all souls entangled in it. I could tell you about the heaviness of each one as I carried it, long ago, or soon, or even right now. Or in plenty of time to come. After all, I am cursed to remember and forced to march on. Yet, it is not too often that someone captures my attention so firmly, let alone seeks comfort from me.
There was once a boy who would often wave at me at certain moments in his life. Even if to many his smile appeared to be permanently erased from his face, he was kind; he did not fear me. I sometimes wish he had. Reaching him saddened me. The boy was named after the stars and was wretchedly in love with the sun. And something told me that he’d need me eventually; so I decided to stick around for a while. A friendly shadow, awaiting to soften his fall.
Forgive me. I now realise I have not properly introduced myself. But not to worry; you will meet me soon enough. For now, let me tell you a story. Let me whisper his name before I forget as everyone else did, before I get him too mixed up with the rest. He’s a peculiar little thing. Someone has to remember.
I found him the day they etched the mark into his skin. Death eaters, they called themselves. It was funny - by now, I tend to be the one chasing after them, after they have gone against one another. They are no eaters of death, but simply one of its many burdens - making a huge mess that I have no option but to clean up. Some say that war must be death’s closest friend. I wouldn’t say so. In all honesty, it behaves more like a boss who requires too much of me, asks for things that are beyond my capabilities. And if I expressed my concern, they would wave me off, yelling at me to simply stop whining and get it done. There are people who seem to thrive in it - I cannot tell you why, as I hardly understand them myself. But I can only assure you that at that moment, as he stared at the snake and the skull appearing on his arm, Regulus Black knew: he was not one of those people. For some reason, this was the exact thought that made me realise I would have to take him with me soon.
They all cheered and congratulated him as the mark settled itself on his wrist. I looked at the boy’s mother and wondered if she would be the one to stop this nonsense, thinking it logical that she might be the first to wish for me to stay away from him for as long as possible. She did not. She encouraged him on. She was the first to open the door for me.
But for now, he had other problems on his mind. He worried how he’d tell the sun what he’d done. And even more so, he worried how he’d tell his brother. Would they both be disappointed? Or would they have known he would do such a thing all along? Which of the two was worse?
I could tell he had troubles sleeping. He often had nightmares in which I were also present. In which he’d send me towards others, and I’d loyally oblige. It terrified us both. One night, perhaps a week after my arrival at his side, he made up his mind too firmly that he had to tell them, to which I couldn’t intervene. The next morning, he dialled the number of his brother.
“Hello?” the voice on the other line was blurry and muffled.
“We need to talk,” Regulus whispered, afraid of having anyone hear him. “Meet me at the train station in two?” It escapes my mind why he chose that particular location, but something about it must have felt awfully safe and nostalgic. A time when I was straying far away, from each of them. The other voice was silent for a long while.
"Okay,” he said finally. “Two as in—in thirty minutes?”
“No,” Regulus replied. “Two as in at night. Please. This is important.”
He was the first to arrive at the arranged place and I thought I’d watch from afar. And then I noticed the other boy approaching. Sirius. Sirius, the young survivor of unforgivable curses. Sirius the scarred. I remember him. I had visited him a few times, and he’d escaped me each one. I do not wish to speak in detail of what I’ve been forced to bear witness to.
"Just what might be so important that you had to summon me at this hour?” he asked, his tone weary. “Don’t tell me it’s about James—“
“It’s—no, it’s not,” he replied hurriedly, then briefly swallowed, preparing to shoot out his next words. Aware that they’d ruin everything and there was nothing he could do stop them from reaching his brother, except become the one whose mouth they escaped. He felt he owed him that, if anything. “I have done it.” The other boy seemed to study him for a long while, grey eyes glinting in the weak lighting of the empty platform.
“What do you mean, Reg?” He knew exactly what he’d meant. Even I could tell. But humans have a talent for lies, especially when doing it to themselves. Regulus couldn’t speak, so he simply pulled his sleeve up and pointed his wrist at Sirius without looking at the mark or at his brother’s face. He felt nauseous at the thought of either sight. The silence that followed was one of the most painful I’d ever encountered.
“You coward,” the long-haired boy’s voice echoed, cold and furious and sad. “You absolute coward.“
“Sirius—“
“You’re no different,” he slowly shook his head, still staring at him wide-eyed. “Go on, Regulus, show them who’s the most bloodthirsty of them all. Show them what a wonderful murderer you are,” He made a cautious step backwards, and Regulus remained there as if his heart had just shattered inside his chest. “Just do it at a good distance from me. And James. Keep Remus out of your bullshit, too.”
The “death eater” reached for his brother’s arm.
“Please, Sirius,” the boy was now close to tears. “I had to. I didn’t want it. Please don’t think I did. Please don’t leave me.” Sirius simply stared at the snake and the skull in disgust, and what almost seemed like fear.
“I can’t.” He pulled away from him and left. This was the last time I saw Sirius Black, at least until a long while later.
The boy who remained at the platform did not notice me as I gently brushed the tears off his face. I wished I could tell him that it would all be alright, that his life was still long and rich and could easily go back to the way it used to be, or even better. But disappointingly, I am no human; lying is beyond me. So I remained silent as he made his way back to the house and quietly crawled into his bed, careful not to wake anyone, then cried himself to sleep.
Throughout the next two years, he did his best to hide, having aborted the idea of confessing his mistake to James, afraid of receiving a similar reaction to that of his brother. In fact, he did not wish to speak to anyone at all. Especially not those he loved. There was one exception, though: the grumpy house elf who looked after the family. It was only to him that Regulus dared to share how he felt. And later on, they discussed something else. Something which would inevitably bring me their way, and they both knew it.
“Kreacher does not think it’s a good idea for master Regulus to do this,” the elf whispered. “It’s dangerous. And if the Dark Lord finds out—“
“I have thought it through. He will have no possible way of knowing. You can bring me there, can’t you?” The house elf briefly swung on his feet, without facing him, seemingly trying to think of an opportunity to escape the conversation. “Kreacher, please.”
“Kreacher regrets telling master Regulus about the locket. Kreacher is sorry,” the elf seemed to hesitate. “But he will do as his master says.” A small, pleased grin appeared on Regulus’ face.
“We shall leave tomorrow. Now, tell me exactly what that locket looked like.”
He spent the night working on a replica, having stolen one of his mother’s less worn necklaces and using various spells to alter its appearance. I wonder if he might have had better chances of surviving, if he’d delayed his adventure a day or two and had some more sleep in the meantime. Wondering. So unnecessary and hurtful. I threw a glance over his shoulder as he wrote the note, the quill’s tip scratching the paper being the only sound in the room. He had the handwriting of a poet.
to the Dark Lord,
I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
I stared at that last sentence a little longer. He truly was a peculiar little thing. Ready to face Death, not having the slightest idea how unprepared and unwilling Death was to face him.
He tried writing other letters.
“Dear Sirius…”
“To my dear James…”
“I’m sorry.”
“I had no choice.”
“I will make it right.”
Each ended up being given up on, a mountain of ripped parchment filling up his desk and being burned to ashes with a wand shortly after.
As arranged, him and the elf met in front of the fireplace the following night, once everyone was asleep.
“Is master Regulus still sure he wants to go?”
The boy firmly nodded in answer. And with nothing but a snap of the elf’s fingers, they vanished. He truly believed he was running at the Dark Lord and all who were cruel enough to follow him. At his cunning strategies and everything he’d worked so hard to build. In reality, he was simply running at me. But this will be left for someone else to discover. And I don’t wish to get ahead of myself.
Obliging to instructions that were given beforehand, the elf did not stop him from drinking the potion, even as he shivered and cried in pain while doing so. He did not stop him from crawling towards the water. Instead, Kreacher grabbed the locket and placed the replica with the note inside it on its place. And with one final apologetic, longing look at his master, he was gone. He likely felt terrible about leaving him alone. But I stayed with him; and I think there has to be some sort of comfort in that.
He screamed as the inferi dragged him underwater, grabbing onto his clothes and flesh. It turned out he was not as fearless as he’d wished to be. The sight of their bodies, lifeless and skeleton-like, terrified him. That was when he saw me.
A small but genuine greeting: Please come closer. Please don’t leave me.
Sweet, naive Regulus. To think he worried I was so cruel that I would let him become one of those soulless creatures instead of taking him with me. I had abandoned many here; that was true. Some had managed to push me away. He would not be one of them.
I made my way towards him, cupped his face in my hands.
“I’m right here,” I whispered.
He closed his eyes.
His soul was heavier than a child’s, but certainly lighter than a monster’s.
I sensed him thinking of his brother who would finally be proud and of a boy who held the warmth of the sun in his smile. It pained me to realise that I would soon meet him, too.
There was nothing but a strict voice echoing inside my mind: get it done, get it done, get it done…