The First Domino
Time’s up.
As the enchanted Grandfather clock chimed three times to signify the start of midnight, its echoes reverberated through the maudlin hallways of the Ancient House of Black, rattling the very bones of its structure. Each haunting chime was a nail in the coffin for one Regulus Black, who has been running away from time since he's known its existence; perhaps even before it.
But by some twist of fate or Regulus’s misfortune in the domains of luck, he could no longer afford to postpone the inevitable magnetic pull the Blacks have towards tragedy and madness.
Yes.
There is no other explanation for what he’s about to do other than the possibility of the Black genetic insanity catching up to him.
Stepping out of his room in measured steps, Regulus's every move held a rigidity and precision that could only be developed from sneaking around his own house since he could learn to walk. Despite his practically silent exit, the sound of the door shutting behind him still made an abnormally loud bang in the narrow hallway. He spent a minute just standing outside, staring at the “Proceed with caution: Area of Regulus Black” sign hung on his bedroom door with an almost nostalgic yearning. He was never really attached to this house. Yet, now with the knowledge that this might be the last time he steps in here, he wondered if the thread, tethering him to the memories that haunt these walls, was still holding strong.
“This is not the time for sentimentality, Regulus”, he murmured to himself with a shake of his head as if to shoo away his feelings like they were flies buzzing around his ears.
Regulus had a keen awareness of the passage of time; he had to not only plan a getaway from this blasted house but also perfectly implement it, all the while in the presence of the Dark Lord himself.
And all within a few minutes.
Regulus was no fool; he knew the extent of Voldemort’s power and he would make no mistake of underestimating his taste for violence and punishing insubordination. The path of least resistance is to safeguard his traitorous intentions until the very last possible moment.
Coming to terms with this temporary conclusion, he crossed the stairs in three rigid strides and stalked into the main drawing room, his head held high and his spine ramrod straight. Pausing at the entryway, he made his presence known with a slight clearing of his throat and waited with bated breath to be permitted to enter.
Bellatrix, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, was the first to beckon him inside with an inhuman shrill of ‘Aww come in, little Reggie’, which was then followed by his mother’s nod of approval to join them. Only then did Regulus step inside the room that occupied the five necessary people who would witness his branding.
Although riddled with anxiety about his impending future, Regulus’s first step was to take stock of the current situation and decide on a potential escape contingency. Walburga and Orion were to the left of him, standing still in immaculate posture, while Lucius Malfoy was towards his right in a similar fashion. Bella, on the other hand, was slowly circling the room like a predator sizing up its prey before the pounce.
With shaking hands stuffed in the pocket of his robes, and eyes quivering in fear, Regulus finally moved his attention to the master of today’s gathering; Voldemort himself, sitting leisurely in an ornate cushioned armchair in the dead center, his right hand gracefully twirling his wand in circles.
Regulus took an inconspicuous breath and cleared his mind of any lingering treacherous thoughts, lest Voldemort decided to employ his legilimency skills.
Better to be safe than dead.
“Ah, the new heir of the Noble House of Black”, Voldemort addressed in his smooth voice, sending shivers down his back.
“Come here, boy”, he beckoned Regulus further into the room with a tilt of his wand.
Under the scrutinizing gaze of the Dark Lord, he moved and knelt beside the armchair with his head bowed in mock respect. “My Lord, it's an honour to finally meet you”, Regulus murmured, purposefully assimilating a reverent tone. He dared to shift his eyes upwards and immediately fell prey to the red, beady eyes brimming with suspicion, peering down at him.
“Hmm…I have heard much about the talent and purity of the Blacks, like Bellatrix here. But despite it, not everyone is capable of wielding such power”, he paused and Regulus knew then that whatever spilt from his mouth next was going to be a test of his loyalty, “especially your brother”.
Ah. There it is.
Sirius, his older brother.
His saviour. His damnation.
His only weakness.
“Such a shame, he abandoned his duty and power to associate himself with lowly mudbloods and blood traitors”, he enunciated every word, voice practically dripping with hostility by the end of the sentence.
From the other side of the room, Bellatrix expressed her disgust with an enraged scoff. Regulus, on the other hand, gritted his teeth at that harsh reminder, “Yes, my lord”. He tensed immediately at the tone of his own voice but relaxed slightly as he realized that his disdain for the current predicament probably translated as a grudge against Sirius and the reason for his betrayal.
Voldemort continued as if he never heard him or his cousin, “Say, Regulus Black, how am I to trust that you are any different? What guarantee do I have that you do not betray your blood and run after your brother?”
At the question of his intentions, Walburga turned to him with a twist of her lips, which Regulus interpreted as displeasure towards him for burdening her beloved Dark Lord with even a hint of doubt about his fealty.
He internally rolled his eyes at this. As if it was his fault that the Dark Lord was a paranoid piece of shit. Regardless, Regulus needed to keep up with his ass-kissing if he planned on coming out alive from the other end of the tunnel.
“I am nothing like him, My Lord.”, he paused for dramatic effect.
Gathering every inch of resentment he held for Sirius, for running away, for leaving him behind, Regulus bitterly spat out, “My loyalties lie only with my family, my duty, and Sirius is a part of neither. He is no longer my brother, perhaps never was. He made his choice, and I made mine.”
There was a stark silence in the room as if the air itself was holding its breath at his words.
For the first time since his arrival, Voldemort cracked a satisfied smile and Regulus immediately wanted to stuff it all back into his mouth.
That smile. It's going to haunt his nightmares. There is something so sinister, almost inhumane about that quirk of his lips; like even the smile knew it had no place on such a face.
"Very well, my boy. I will take your word for it". Finally, Voldemort stood up from his chair, his robes falling around his legs in an obsidian wave. Regulus, who was still on his knees beside the chair, stiffened immediately. He felt like a caged animal, the walls closing around him.
Nonononono. This can't be happening right now. He was not prepared to sacrifice his life to the dark side forever.
Why did he think he had more time to plan an escape? Of course, the Dark Lord will not waste his time on a mere boy like him and wait till he is mentally adjusted to get the mark.
Regulus's breaths shortened till he was practically panting and his clammy hands were fisted in his robes.
If the others in the room pick up on his internal panic, they will pounce on him like sharks smelling fresh blood. Yet, try as he might, he couldn't quell his shaking to save his life. Literally.
Ha. Regulus was sure he was descending into hysterics now.
FUCK.
He had to think quickly on his feet if he wanted to make it out alive and for now, he knew he had the element of surprise on his side. That was his only strategy right now. He was still very much aware of Voldemort towering above him but the dark lord was slightly distracted by Bellatrix who was over enthusiastically jumping in joy at the notion of her cousin's inauguration.
Taking this as his cue to action, Regulus twisted in his crouched position and aimed a powerful bombarda at the wall Lucius Malfoy was leaning on. The wall instantly collapsed, the bricks haphazardly falling on Malfoy's head, knocking him unconscious in a moments time. In the aftermath, the rest of the members were busy looking around in shock, still not sure where the spell came from.
Regulus, without wasting a second sent his second spell flying at Orion, who was the most convenient to hit.
He hit the floor stunned.
However, this was more than enough time for Voldemort to identify the perpetrator and hit him with a powerful crucio.
Regulus went down.
The pain was so intense, that he felt like every inch of his body was pricked with a needle till he was oozing acid through his every pore.
"How DARE you defy me this way", the Dark Lord sneered, his unnaturally pale face twisting into a furious snarl. "You insolent boy. Did you think you could get away with betraying the most powerful wizard the wizarding world has seen?"
From his crumpled form on the ground, Regulus had half the mind to agree with him. He didn't quite understand what came over him to so audaciously fire off spells.
"You underestimated me Regulus Black. Now you are going to pay for your insubordination."
Regulus's eyes were brimming with tears and all he could see was the blurry mess of black pointing the wand at him, as he tried to regain his bearings.
"Kneel before I make you.", Voldemort commanded.
Through the pain coursing through his body, he could barely hear the whispered imperio. A cold sense of calm washed over him as all his clenched muscles loosened immediately. Only then did Regulus realize the voice behind the wand wasn't the Dark Lord but Bellatrix.
Even as dread haunted the empty pockets of his mind, his heart wept. Regulus thought he had come to accept Bellatrix's inclination for sadism, but lying here at her mercy, he realized he missed her more than he hated her. Regulus doesn't have much recollection of his childhood but he remembered those times when Bella, his favorite cousin stood between her sisters and a raised hand, much like Sirius did for him. He didn't know at what point the victim, the protector became the one weilding the knife, but the little Regulus who looked up to Bella with love and the admiration only children can carry, wailed for the loss.
With misery coating his eyes, Regulus looked up at her hoping to see even a hint of regret.
Empty. Her eyes were empty.
Regulus felt like he was punched in his gut as he crawled to his knees at her words.
Bow. He didn't know if she said that out loud or if it echoed in his mind but he followed it without effort.
Crawl to the dark lord. He instantly bent forward, his hands firmly placed on the dark wood of the drawing room floor. The heat of the floor on his cold palms jump-started his system and all the movements around him came back to him in a rush.
Fuck. What the fuck was he doing. Was he reduced to such a pathetic state that he would voluntarily take part in his humiliation?
His temper flared and he lashed out violently. Every bit of sympathy he harbored for Bellatrix fell away to pure hideous anger. The imperio shattered and Regulus stood up shaking, whether from the aftereffects of the crucio or from his rage, he didn't know.
His grip on his wand tightened.
"Fuck you", he spat out, his voice hoarse from all the screaming. The momentary pause lasted all of five seconds before he was hit again without mercy.
All of a sudden, laughter bubbled up his throat and Regulus descended into uncontrollable giggles. He was bent over just from the force of it as he began to choke up. His hands immediately went up to his mouth, his neck, trying to desperately claw out whatever was stuck in his throat. Still coughing, he brought his sticky fingers up to his eyesight, trying to find the offending item.
His fingers glistened crimson under the golden light of the drawing room.
Blood.
He was choking on his own blood.
He looked down.
There, where his frozen heart resided, was a slash of heat for a second. Regulus hoped this burning sensation would restart his heart, and he could feel the happiness he never felt anymore. Then, the pain hit and he buckled, falling to his knees, blood cascading down his body in stinging rivulets. His dark shirt gets soaked until it sticks like caramel to his chest.
For a delirious minute, Regulus wondered if it would taste as sweet too.
He must surely be a masochist because even when bleeding on his knees, Regulus revelled in the pain. A part of him always believed he deserved this punishment for all the times he let Sirius take his place in front of their mother’s wrath. Maybe this is retribution or just fate’s hand at righteous justice.
Whatever it may be, Regulus would take it. Welcome it with open arms. Come at me wretched misery. He will accept it all and bathe in it. He will drown in it. And then, when he finds that scrap of hope that clings like a stubborn child to his insides, he will gather it in his fallacious hands, his sinful hands, and pull it closer.
He tugs it so close it becomes one with his being, till it shines from within him as the stars do miles away.
He is Regulus Arcturus Black.
Sirius’s little brother. Always his little brother.
And he will make his brother proud if that's the last thing he does. If he goes down, then so be it, but he will do it on his own terms and he will go down fighting.
With every inch of miraculous strength left in his body and soul, Regulus got up from his crouched position for the second time that night. Standing as tall as he could, with blood-soaked fingers, Regulus gripped his wand tightly. And took aim.
The stupefy wretched from the depths of his throat found its target square in Voldemort’s chest and he blasted backwards just from the force of the spell’s hit.
The room stood still. No one moved for a minute, till Bella broke from her shock and rushed to her beloved master’s side.
His dear mother on the other hand, promptly turned her remorseless wand at her second son without flinching. The green light jetted across and hit the wall, a hair breath away from his left ear.
Still trembling from the blood loss, and certainly the near miss of the curse, Regulus quickly darted to his left, taking cover behind the velvet couch. His nerves were high-strung from the tension and the residue of dark magic in the room, but he knew this was not the time to rest and give a break to his weary bones. With three people currently incapacitated, he only had his mother and Bellatrix left to deal with. However, considering that both of them were the strongest in the room aside from Voldemort, Regulus wasn't hopeful of his chances of survival. However, he did not come this far just to give up now.
Fuck it.
He swiftly emerged from his hiding spot to shoot a stunner at Bella before ducking back. He repeated this pattern for the next 2 minutes.
Duck. Come up. Curse. Duck again.
By his 15th attempt or so he thought, Regulus finally managed to land a well-aimed Expelliarmus on Bella. Her wand flies into his hands and he immediately stuns her.
She falls to the ground next to her master with a thud.
Unfortunately for him, his luck runs out. While he was busy focusing on Bella, he completely forgot to attend to the other member in the room who still very much had their wits about them. In a flash, his wand was forcibly removed from his hand, much the way he did Bellatrix, and pocketed by none other than Walburga Black.
Fitting, Regulus thought.
Out of everyone in his life, his mother had to be the one to stand between him and his freedom; his happiness. Standing there in the dining room, he felt like his entire life had been building up to this particular moment, Regulus and his mother on opposite sides of the battlefield, wielding their weapons against each other.
Regulus took a quick note of his predicament and realized that his saving grace was just across the room, in the bricks and mortar of the fireplace. All he had to do now was to somehow reach the floo before his mother murdered him in this very room.
Easier said than done, but Regulus was tenacious if not anything. His only means of defence was snatched from him, so he needed to find an alternative choice of weapon.
Heart still racing from blood loss and adrenalin, Regulus settled on his words. After all, Sirius always said that Regulus's words shot to kill.
"Mother" he smirked, "how does it feel to know you produced not only one but two blood traitors?"
Walburga's face twisted into a sneer, "You useless child. I should have burnt you off the tapestry when I had the chance"
Regulus's eyes flickered once to his mother's lowering wand. Good. This was what he aimed for. "Aww, but mother, you wouldn't have", he teased, as he slowly moved closer towards her, "You needed an heir and you knew Sirius would have never stood for it".
A cruel smirk took over her aristocratic features. Her next words were uttered with so much vindictive pleasure, that Regulus knew his mother was shaken up by his actions despite her mask of indifference.
"Ah, but he had a weakness, you see, he loved you too much. We taught him love would be his ultimate downfall, but he never did listen. If he did not escape off to the blasted Potters house that night, we would have convinced him to take the mark."
He momentarily halted his movements at this. He briefly considered rubbing it in her face that he pushed her heir through the fireplace that day, but decided against it. No point aggravating her to that extent.
He was painfully aware of his mother's successful persuasive techniques but she didn't know Sirius didn't love him anymore. He found another brother in Potter; someone who wouldn't selfishly let Sirius do all the dirty work. Someone who didn't remind Sirius of the horrors of Grimmauld place. James Potter whose being could rival the sun, would have burned away the darkness that haunted Sirius, while all that Regulus was good for, was to cast his miserable shadow on his brother and pull him back from all the greatness Sirius was surely destined for.
When he zoned back in, Walburga was still going on her angry rant, "- all we had to do was turn our wand on you. You were the spare dear Regulus, we had no use for you other than to get Sirius into line. That was all your life was worth for. So stop this ridiculous act and take the Dark Mark like you were supposed to. I'm sure the merciful Dark Lord will forgive you if you beg for it".
Regulus did not understand what it was with these people and begging. The dark lord surely had some questionable kinks and Regulus did not want any part in it.
He quietly let out a giggle at this. He was most certainly losing it if he was thinking about the dark lord and his sexual preferences.
"Mother, are you daft?" he deadpanned, " surely you didn't think I jeopardized my life just for kicks? YOU were the one who insisted that no Black kneels before another, and now what, you want me to humiliate myself just to stroke his fragile ego?" he questioned, increasingly hysterical at his mother's hypocrisy.
He decidedly, however, ignored his mother's attempt to rub salt in his open wounds about the insignificance of his existence, no matter how successful she was at it. This was not the time to bawl his eyes out like a baby at his inadequacy. Besides, Regulus had his whole childhood to come to terms with his insecurities and he was not above ignoring the tears threatening at the corner of his eyes, and focusing on his immediate survival.
At his cheek, her voice turned a few pitches higher till she was practically screeching at his face.
"You Regulus Black are an absolute disgrace to this esteemed family and you will either get rid of this attitude or I will beat it out of you".
Walburga was too busy screaming her head off to take notice of Regulus and he was immensely grateful for it. Yet, he was surprised she let him come as close as he did, but Walburga always thought of him as a coward. Even after his stupid display of defiance today, she didn't anticipate he would dare defy her. After all, Regulus never did.
But a lot of things changed tonight.
Maybe because she thought Regulus was considerably weakened by the day's events, or that he lacked a spine, her guard remained lowered. And that was her biggest mistake.
"I am no longer going to let you treat me like that", he breathed on her face. Standing this close to his mother, Regulus for the first time in his life realized how much taller he was to her, and how easy it would be to overpower her if he put a bit of effort.
Regulus saw the exact moment fear flashed through her eyes when she noticed his proximity.
Thunk.
Walburga for all her vigilance, never saw the knife coming. The emerald-hilted weapon hidden in Regulus's socks, since he was 15, saw the light of day for the first time as it lodged itself in Walburga's wand arm. She hissed as blood began to drip from the shiny blade.
Her wand dropped and rolled away on the red-stained carpet.
She levelled her furious gaze at him and snarled, " You will never make it out here Regulus. If you do, you know what will happen to your beloved brother."
Regulus faltered. And that was his error.
In one quick swipe, she dislodged the offending weapon and stabbed him in his abdomen. And pulled it out with a squelch. The knife clattered to the floor as she stumbled back with momentum and Regulus crumpled like all the dreams of his future.
Dizziness hit and the room was spinning in circles. Regulus barely had any awareness other than the glinting object a mere feet away from him.
Minutes passed and Regulus was in and out of consciousness. He looked down to see the studded hilt tightly gripped in his blood-slicked fingers. He blinked and found himself straddling his mother as she thrashed below him.
He didn't even know why she remained collapsed on the floor. But he didn't waste his opportunity. One should never underestimate a black. Especially one who had a reason to fight for.
She should have known better.
And yet, his face was wet. He didn't know if it was blood or tears.
With an inhuman noise wrenched from his throat, Regulus plunged the blood-coated knife into her chest again and again.
Again. again. again.
He had no grasp over the passing of time. He wailed and screamed till his throat was raw with grief. He didn't know who or what he was mourning but he sobbed.
He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed
He sat there in a pool of blood. His and his mother's. The one who he ki-
He broke down again, snot dripping down his nose till he was suffocating. His eyes were crusted with salt and blood. Old and new. His and his mother's.
With heaving breaths, Regulus rolled over, his gaze firmly stuck to the fireplace at the end of the room. It felt like ages as he dragged himself across the floor, his raw, bitten nails clawing the carpet as he pulled himself to his only salvation. Regulus was sure he was floating as he looked around and didn't recognize the people lying still all around him. His heart was still pounding in his head, but the dizziness came back with a vengeance.
Suddenly, he found himself violently throwing up on the carpet, the cloth soaked with bits of food he meagerly stomached down, tinged pink from all the blood.
He frantically searched for his wand to magic it away and almost descended into a mild panic at its disappearance. It was lying close to the fireplace and by the time he reached it, all thoughts of why he needed it were forgotten.
His vision was fogged by black splotches but it barely bothered him. Potter manor. That was his only thought.
Grabbing a handful of floo power, Regulus uttered the destination before launching himself into the green flames.
Everything faded to black.