I
Regulus Arcturus Black was a spare. She existed so that the Heir to the House of Black lived long enough to lead their House to greatness. A designer baby is what they called her. A baby genetically modified to be perfectly healthy, to give parts of herself to the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
Her brother.
Regulus had been giving parts of herself her whole life. She gave so much of herself until she had nothing left to give; it left her questioning who she was. Was she spare body parts, a pawn ready to be sacrificed at the whims of others?
Forever to be underestimated by her family, everyone thought she'd amount to nothing, and Regulus fought so hard for that not to be true. Always being a perfect pureblood lady, working herself to exhaustion to go above and beyond for school, giving in to her crazy cousin to join the Dark Lord to bring their House greatness like her brother was supposed to. Because that was her only purpose, fixing her brother's mistakes.
Maybe that's why she ended up in the cave that would lead to her Lord's demise. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth; the idea of being owned and expendable.
Regulus felt rage tainted with bitter regret of letting them use her as they pleased as she stared at the murky water, her gaze hard. Regulus was over being a pushover, of being underestimated of people thinking of her as a stupid mindless little girl.
Her gaze snapped up to the basin Regulus thought with certainty was filled with poison, she knew her Lord better than most, and a little smirk appeared on her face before it quickly disappeared. Her mind wandered back to what started her rebellionโmaybe it was already years in the making, but she finally got the courage to act on it.
Maybe it was when Sirius disowned himself. The thought made her snort softly. Her brother was prone to jealousy; she remembered the temper tantrums when her parent pampered her more than him. If only he could see they did it so she wouldn't push back when the time came for her to offer another part of herself.
Her parents weren't the example of parental affection; she wasn't blind, but to say her parents didn't love her would be unfair. While she was born for a purpose, they had chosen to have her, and they had grown to love her; Sirius was a representation of duty; while it wasn't love, there was a fickle two-sided affection that neither of them put any effort in to nurture after a while.
Sirius disowning himself was a sum of many things: their parents' cold affection for him, their political views, his brash demeanour, always assuming the worst in them, and that he had a taste of a warm family like the Potters. Theย Potters'ย Regulus would always hold contempt toward them, and she doesn't think anything could change that.
She knew it wasn't rational by this point, it was just plain petty with more than half of them dead already, but she hardly cared. Like how Sirius hardly cared about how she missed him during his first year at Hogwarts when all he could rave about was his new best friend, James Potter.
"Why can't you be like James? He would have agreed with me!"
"You're such a bore, Regulus! James would have done it with me!"
"I miss James; no one understands me here."
"What would you know? You'll be in Slytherin like the rest of this slimy lot."
It made her feel replaceable; when Sirius disowned himself, he replaced his family with the Potters, and her family substituted Sirius with her. Regulus' family wasn't the root of all evil like Sirius loved to rave about. They held onto their religion tightly, afraid their history would disappear; they didn't raise their hands towards themโharming a magical child was the greatest offenseโ they had an obsession with legacy, but Blacks were an obsessive and possessive lot.
Regulus can fondly recall how her mother would take her shopping, aggravating Regulus when she forced her into a horrendous outfit and gossiping with her about what was happening in her social circle. Walburga would teach her the ins and outs of Slytherin politics while reading her stories about her ancestors at night.
Regulus' father would take her on trips when he had to leave for business and show her all the nooks and crannies in the country; he would even take her to the ministry and show her what he did for work. When Regulus got restless, he'd take her to the piano room and start playing her melodies to calm her down, and later he'd teach her how to play. Orion would break her out from her more boring lessons and teach her how to duel with a practice wand.
It wasn't like they didn't try to do all sorts of things with Sirius; Regulus' parents didn't know how to connect with him, and every time they suggested something, Sirius would turn his nose up, looking suspiciously similar to their mother. Their relationship is crippled, but Regulus sees it more Sirius' fault he never really made any effort after returning from Hogwarts.
After Sirius' disownment, her parents became obsessed with making her the perfect Heir. They held her tightly so she wouldn't run away, as her brother did. Regulus didn't know why at the time; she didn't have any reason to until her crazy cousin convinced her parents to make her join the Dark Lord. Her parents agreed, thinking it would protect her from other Lords and Ladies and make it easier for her to have a higher standing in the political world; after all, Regulus was weak-minded.
Mildly offended, Regulus agreed just as an extra 'fuck you' to Sirius; she'd become what he couldn't, what he hated the most; maybe it would make him regret leaving, she thought.
Joining Voldemort, however, cost her more than she thought it would; Evan Rosier, her favourite cousin and best friend, died courtesy of Alastor Moody. Evan was quiet, with tiny smiles gifted only to his closest of friends type of person, cold on the outside that you can't get close, but when he loved, he loved which such a burning fire that Evan would die for those he'd love. His death sent a rage over Regulus, destroying everything in her vicinity. When he took his last breath, he took a part of Regulus' heart; but what Regulus' felt was nothing compared to Barty. Evan's love burnt him so much that he'd never recover after it was gone; Barty wasn't himself anymore; he broke down and wasn't the happy devious friend Regulus recognised. When Evan died, Barty died with him, and she'd lost a cousin and a brother.
"Mistress Regulus?" croaked a voice next to her; blinking her thoughts away, Regulus turned to her house elf and very first friend. "Yes, Kreacher?" Regulus hummed in question; Kreacher wrung his hands nervously, "Mistress Regulus doesn't need to do this! The Dark Lord is cruel; nasty things happen when yous drink the potion, bad things."
Regulus' eyes softened; she knelt at Kreacher; her eyes were full of youth and courage against the cruellest chances. "I do, Kreacher; I have to do this, do you understand?" Kreacher's eyes watered, his voice even more croaky, "Mistress Regulus doesn't have to prove anything to those no good blood traitors; Mistress Regulus is enough."
Regulus' eyes started to water at Kreacher; "I know now, Kreacher; I just realised it a bit too late." Kreacher started to ugly cry now; he wailed and threw himself at Regulus; she caught him quickly bring him closer to her, "If Mistress turns back now, the Dark Lord won't find out! Kreacher will keep this secret! Kreacher will!"
Enveloping Kreacher in a hug, Regulus looks down at him, "He hurt you, Kreacher." Kreacher shook his head, "Why is Mistress doing this-" he muttered, as if the reason wasn't good enough. Regulus tightened her hold on him, she smiled at him and responded with four simple words. "Nobody hurts my elf."
Kreacher was inconsolable, trembling in his Mistress's arms; Regulus kissed his head and held him a bit longer before letting him go.
Regulus' eyes turned hard; she spoke to Kreacher in a commanding voice, magic flowing in her words, "You will feed me the potion, Kreacher, you will feed it to me even when I refuse, and if something happens, I want you to take the locket, destroy it and never come back; you will leave me here if you can't save me, that's an order."
Kreacher snorted his snot up and started to mutter things that were too soft for Regulus to catch, but she knew he was unhappy with the order, and there was nothing the elf could do but follow it. Regulus hated ordering him, when she knew asking him was the more preferable option but Kreacher wouldn't do as she wished if she had simply asked.
Kreacher scooped the first serving of the potion and with shaky hands, brought the crystal glass to Regulus' mouth; as she swallowed, Regulus' eyes became hazed and unfocused, but Kreacher kept feeding the potion to her.
In silence, Regulus drank three goblets of the potion. Then, halfway through the fourth goblet, she staggered and fell forward against the basin. Her eyes were still closed, her breathing heavy. Kreacher flinched back before cautiously approaching her again; when he was close enough, he heard Regulus' muttering.
"Please, stop... I don't want to, don't like- want to stop ..." moaned Regulus, eyes shrewd shut in pain. Kreacher gulped before shoving more potion down her throat, "Make it stop, make it stop," whined Regulus.
Kreacher started sobbing again and tipped the goblet's contents into Regulus' open mouth. Regulus screamed; the noise was piercing; it echoed around the vast chamber, across the dead black water. Kreacher's heart started to drum like a hummingbird, "Mistress must drink more, she must!"
"No, no, no, no, I can't, I can't, don't make me, I don't want to. . . ."
"Mistress Regulus is so brave! She must keep drinking," said Kreacher loudly as if motivating himself to keep going, his hands shaking so badly he could hardly scoop up the sixth goblet full of potion; the basin was now half empty.
Obediently, Regulus drank as though it was an anti-dote Kreacher offered her, but upon draining the goblet, she sank to her knees, shaking uncontrollably. "It's all my fault, all my fault," she sobbed. "Please make it stop, I know I did wrong, oh please make it stop and I'll never, never again ..."
"This will make it stop, Mistress," Kreacher said, his voice cracking as he tipped the seventh glass of potion into Regulus' mouth. Regulus began to quiver as though invisible torturers surrounded her; her hand almost knocked the refilled goblet from Kreacher's trembling hands as she moaned, "Sirius, don't leave me, please, please, it's my fault, stay with me instead ..."
"Drink, Mistress, you'll be all right," said Kreacher desperately, and once again, Regulus obeyed him, opening her mouth even as she kept her eyes tight shut and shook from head to foot. She fell forward, screaming again, hammering her fists upon the ground while Kreacher filled the ninth goblet.
"Please, please, please, no ... don't go, don't leave, I'll do anything..."
"Mistress has to drink, remember, Mistress said" Regulus drank like a child dying of thirst, but when she had finished, she yelled again as though her insides were on fire. "No more, please, no more ..."
Kreacher scooped up a tenth goblet of potion and felt the crystal scrape the bottom of the basin. "Almost done, Mistress. Drink this, drink it."
Kreacher supported Regulus' shoulders, and again, she drained the glass; then Kreacher on his feet once more, refilling the goblet as Regulus began to scream in more anguish than ever, "I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!"
"Mistress can't leave Kreacher, drink, drink."
Regulus drank, and no sooner had she finished than she yelled, "KILL ME!"
"This -- this one is the last!" gasped Kreacher. "Just drink this .. . It'll be over ... all over!" Regulus gulped at the goblet, drained every last drop, and then rolled over onto her face with a great, rattling gasp.
She flung herself over to the edge of the rock and plunged into the water; Kreacher yelled in panic as the chilly water submerged Regulus. It woke her up, and she could hear the muffled wails of Kreacher's screams.
Suddenly there was an icy feeling on her arm, not the lingering chill of the water. A dirty white hand had gripped her wrist, and the creature to whom it belonged was pulling her, slowly, backwards across the rock. The surface of the lake was no longer mirror smooth; it was churning, and everywhere Regulus looked, white heads and hands were emerging from the dark water, men and women and children with sunken, sightless eyes were moving toward the rock: an army of the dead rising from the black water.
Inferi.
Regulus struggled to break free, the position blurring her senses; she fought to swim, but hundreds of hands pulled her down, "Sirius!" she gasped as she reached the surface, "Please..."
Kreacher looked distressed at his Mistress one last time before he swiped the locket from the basin and put the replica in. He looked heartbroken, a sight that would have indeed broken Regulus if she had her wits with her; with one last sniff, Kreacher croaked out, "Mistress has ordered Kreacher; Kreacher is sorry." before disappearing with a loud crack.
Hearing the crack of something in Regulus registered that she was alone and no one was coming to help her. Suddenly she felt fearful; she started to panic, and her lungs were pressing down on her with the need to breathe more air than before. Holding her breath as best as she could, the building pressure in her head was splitting in half, and her confusion and disorientation were not helping; she couldn't see and didn't know if she was facing up or down.
The hands dragged her deeper into the water, and Regulus acknowledged that she was about to die. Her vision at the edges of her sight seemed to turn into black dots, then pulses reddish white. Regulus' lungs started to burn. Her chest felt like it was being compressed right in the centre by a giant fist and pulled apart simultaneously; maybe it was. The inferi were probably dragging her down from all sides.
A sense of nausea washed over her, her whole body tingly and rigid. Regulus' neck was strained, a sense of pressure pushing inward against her oesophagus like a strangling sensation; her ears were ringing with her erratic heartbeat.
It's cold, oh so cold, but Regulus was too numb. Her limbs felt dead and heavy, like carrying a dead weight, and she has no control over them. Regulus lost her eyesight, but there were little flashes of sparks as her eyes tried to concentrate on where she thought the bright green glow would be.
The inferi was bashing around Regulus, and she shivered at their dead-like touch; she tried to claw her way through, but eventually, she couldn't take the headache and inhaled. Everything went silent and utterly black, the ghost touch of the inferi disappeared, and she felt nothing.
Suddenly, Regulus Black didn't exist anymore.