December 1975.
For the next week and a bit, nothing happens. Regulus continually goes to either the library, outside or in the basement with Kreacher towards the night. As he does as he's told he isn't bothered by his parent's. Unless they ask for something of him they don't communicate often. Only at meals when Regulus finds himself sitting alone do they interact. As the week goes on Regulus notice's Kreacher being gone longer into the night. Walburga and Orion told Voldemort he could use Kreacher for a task that was needed. They had said Regulus could be used first but Voldemort was insistent that it could not be him.
One day Regulus was awakened with a bright light, Kreacher pulled the blinds open. Regulus groaned as his arm flew to obscure the attack on his eyes, Kreacher rolled his own as he jumped off the desk and walked to his bed. Pulling off the blanket Regulus gasped dramatically as he sat up. "Kreacher! What if I had been undressed!?" The boy questioned as he pulled the blanket back up to his chin with an irritated expression.
"Then there wouldn't be much to see." Kreacher replied and walked away from the offended noise Regulus made. He started to get clothes from his wardrobe as Regulus stewed in his bad mood. "I'll have you know that I've put on three pounds of pure muscle since you last saw me!" He shouted out, watching the elf walk around the room. Kreacher stopped what he was doing and turned to Regulus with an unimpressed glare, Regulus's face twitched and moved as he tried to hold it. "Fine! It was two and a half!" He let up as he fell back into the bed. Kreacher just shook his head fondly as he placed the clothes on the foot of the bed.
"Breakfast will be ready soon, I expect you to actually show up today. You can't keep not eating." He told him gently as he stood at the foot of the bed, watching Regulus sit up slowly to look at him. "I am eating," he insisted weakly. It earned another unimpressed and concerned gaze from the elf, "I'm just not hungry." He said with a shake of the head, a shrug of the shoulders and a tight smile.
"At Least just go downstairs, out of your room for a bit. You can't just stay in here." He told the boy with concern. Regulus thought, he avoided the elf for a second as he got out of the bed, "Can we do some Cruul rounds after?" A compromise he tried, looking at Kreacher.
Kreacher winced with an apologetic look, "I need to make breakfast and then I have some other things I need to finish today, I'm sorry." Regulus stopped what he was doing for a second before reaching for the clothes with his head down. "Oh- That's fine, I'll go to breakfast.. I just need to get dressed, so I'm gonna-" With an awkward smile he left the room into his bathroom and closed the door behind him. With an exaggerated sigh Kreacher left the room to make the rest of the breakfast.
Minutes later Regulus walks down to breakfast and that's when Regulus is confronted by his second mistake during the winter holidays. He pilled into his bowl with a spoonful of small chocolate chips and berries into his oatmeal, it was his favourite breakfast.
"How would you like for me to show you those Potion's notes today?" Voldemort asks but it's not a question, Regulus pauses in taking a spoon full of his food. Voldemort's sweet smile is overruled by the darkness in his eyes that stare through Regulus's soul. A quick glance towards his parents proves it is not refuse-able, his mother has an eyebrow raised and his father has his head tilted ever so slightly to the side with a dangerous smile.
So, he gives a timid smile. "I would like that a lot." It's a lie, an obvious one but with his arrogance Voldemort doesn't see it. Doesn't question it, so he hums back, pleased, as he continues to eat and so does Regulus.
Walburga tries to continually make conversation with the man, complimenting him every chance she gets. Orion only joins the conversation at her say, he listens more than talks. Regulus notice's no difference from how they normally act.
After breakfast Regulus and Voldemort find themselves inside the library once again. They walked towards a circular table that had a cauldron built into the middle, as they approached Voldemort flicked his wand and mumbled an incantation that spurred a fire to grow beneath it.
The table was made from rich mahogany wood, it had red undertones that made it look majestic in-between the two bookshelves. The small indents of symbols and patterns that bordered the table matched the ones on the bookshelves, it tied the small alcove together. Looking at it, it could have been a room on its own but the way it joined to the rest of the library added to the flair.
Before he sat down, Regulus looked around them once more. Mainly at the books, he took one off the shelf and placed it on the table. None of the books were similar, they came in many different colours, shapes and sizes. Some even had magic woven into them that you could see if you looked close enough to see the small flicks of yellow light that made it glisten. Some moved as if there were Flobberworm's moving below the surface of the book or the symbols that decorated the cover's danced across as if trying to gain attention.
As Regulus sat down he focused on the man that sat opposite him. He already had a book open, it had a plain leather cover and yellow page's that held compact writing. It looked worn but the cover looked like it had been polished recently. The man turned from page to page as he traced the words lightly with one hand, the other was draped across the wrist of that hand. It was placed before the collared white shirt was rolled up on his sleeves, different to how they had been at breakfast. The robes he had worn were draped across the back of the chair, he still wore the vest. It was mainly black with green accents of patterns that flowered across it. Silver lining traced the vest.
Regulus's eyes found themselves looking up as the man started to move.
"I've got the perfect potion to start off with, I made it when I was in fifth year." The man bragged with a sly grin. "Now, pay attention." The man flicks his wand and multiple plates and vials appear on the table. A red berry sits alone in a bowl that Regulus can identify as a baneberry, the line's a light brown stick like object's Regulus cannot place.
The vial's are labelled;
The most filled jar is of Hornroot, it's yellow in colour with black at the tip of the horn's. A circular pattern follows the shape towards the point of the tip. Hornroot is harvested from the root's of a plant named Horned. The plant blooms rainbow orchids from long stem's, those petal's can also be used for many potion's.
A jar of Moonstone's is next to them, it is a small oval jar that is only half full making it seem to be used often. The stopper is decorated with twirls of rope that descend down and around the jar. They appear white but upon closer inspection they shimmer a rainbow of colours. They come in many shapes, some have rough edges and sharp point's like they had been cut from a larger piece.
In front of these two jar's is a red liquid labelled Syrup of Hellebore. This vial is tinted black and the writing is compact for the big label, it's obviously handwritten. Looking from the vial to Voldemort's notebook he can see who wrote it. Hellebore is a type of bug that takes nectar from a bulb that has blossomed from a Helleborus plant.
Regulus look's between all the vials and jars and tries to figure out what kind of potion they are about to make. Before he can come to a decision the cauldron is being filled with water and he is being talked to.
"This potion is one of the easier ones to make but has been useful to me a' many occasions." He smiles wickedly as the cauldron fill's. "I never named this potion, it's easier to get away with using something that doesn't have a name." Voldemort pins Regulus with a specific look, like he should be writing this down. It is good advice, for someone that wants to get away with using harmful potions but Regulus just nods his head, pays attention and writes his notes.
"Firstly, we need to use the mortar to get powdered Moonstone, I'll use two ounces." He reached across and grabbed the mortar and pestle and then the jar of Moonstone. He held the jar in his hand as he tapped the top of the stopper, the rope started to move and weave between itself as it opened. Voldemort poured two small rock's into the mortar and deeming it enough he handed the bowl to Regulus. "Make sure it is a powder, more fine and not grainy." He instructed before giving the bowl and pestle to Regulus.
Regulus got to work on making the powdered substance as Voldemort started on the rest of the potion himself. Regulus watched and wrote as he took two of the sticks from the plate into the cauldron, five Hornroot's and a dash of Hellebore Syrup. He stirred the mixture clockwise twice before stirring it a dozen times anti clockwise. Afterwards, he took the Baneberry and squeezed it above the boiling water, the juices dripped into the mixture as it began to change into a black colour.
"Is it done?" He asked Regulus but he held out his hand for the bowl not actually wondering how Regulus had done. He took the bowl and looked over the powder, Regulus had done a good job and it was a fine powder, Voldemort hummed as he nodded his head. No other comments were made but he happily poured the powder into the mixture and it began to change colour as he stirred, a dark red took over the black as he continued to mix.
"Now we just need to be patient." Voldemort started to apparate away the vials and items used. Regulus decided to let his curiousness win.
“What are you doing here? In London?” He adds, his eyes moving from the feather in his hands and back up to him.
“I’m looking for someone, a Seer.” Voldemort says, “The only subject I didn’t excel in, divination.” He comes to look over Regulus’s work, pointing at a bit. “Add this;” He points to a paragraph in his own book.
‘-The Hellebore and Helleborus plant look similar, in that they both possess a red and black style. They can come in many different patterns though but both are known to be aggressive in their defences.’
“So you’re looking to find someone in London?” He asks while writing.
“An old friend, I should say, although I doubt we are friends.” He looks over the cauldron, “But she still owes me. How are you at divination?”
Regulus is thrown for a second, “Also not that great at it, I lean on one of my friends a lot.”
Voldemort hums, “Your friend is good? And this part of your notes...” His fingers point to a piece on his paper. “Add; that the Horned plant, their rainbow petals can be used for healing potions.”
“She’s extraordinary..” He says mindlessly as he begins to write. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you. I also met my old friend at Hogwarts.” Their conversation flows unnaturally natural, like two people catching up and not a teenager and the up and coming of evil itself.
"You went to Hogwarts?"
"Yes, I did. Can you guess what house I was in?" Voldemort grins slyly as he questions.
"Slytherin." Regulus answers confidently.
"Of course." He grins proudly of the house, Regulus smiles tightly before looking to the side.
"When did you attend?" He asks.
"Many decades ago." Is the cryptic answer he receives. It makes him turn to the man with confusion because he looked like he was in his late 20's. He had pristine skin and healthy hair that shined in the candle light. He was lean as he sat with perfect posture, it was confusing. "I don't look old do I?" It's a taunt, a brag, for what? Regulus doesn't know. The man obviously takes care of himself and is very aware of how he holds himself.
"How old are you?" Regulus finds himself asking before he can help it but the man continues to speak in riddles.
"Older than you'd think." He looks amused, like he's telling a joke that Regulus doesn't know. Maybe he's not supposed to know. It makes him more curious about just how many secret's this man has. No one even knows his real name, it intrigues Regulus. Because what is so special about this man?
As if reading his thoughts Voldemort asks, “You are wondering who I am aren’t you, I’m not just one of your parent’s friends, you know.” They share uncomfortable eye contact, uncomfortable for Regulus. Voldemort looks down on him, it’s not just arrogance that makes him so, it's confidence that makes him sit so tall.
“You’re Voldemort.” Regulus says, this could be the most confident Regulus has ever been. “You are.. Apparently the most powerful dark wizard in this last century.”
“Apparently?” He tilts his head, he’s not aggravated .. more taken aback.
“No one knows your real name, everything said about you is rumours. Some people don’t believe Voldemort even exists.”
“And do you Regulus Black? Do you believe I exist?” He’s looking at him isn't he? He can feel it, the agony that only dark magic could make. He can see it in the slits of his eyes, black voids; so uninviting unlike the charm from the rest of his face.
"It's ready." He smiles into the cauldron as he apparates a new vial into his hand, Regulus watches as he pours some into the vial, it fills up quickly. "Now, this potion is a mixture of many poisons, it causes extreme pain depending on how many Baneberries are used and Hornroot's. This one is a more mild one than I use but it still works wonders. There's only one way to test this kind of potion." Voldemort exclaims cryptically, he shouts for Kreacher next.
And of course he apparates right beside either of them, Regulus stands from the table quickly. "Test it on him?" He asks, unable to think before his action's.
"Kreacher is here to assist with anything possible." Kreacher bows before Voldemort but Regulus tries to angle himself between the two. "Surely there's a better- a different way?" Regulus asks quickly as he tries to think of something. Anything.
"Are you volunteering to test it, boy?" Voldemort is amused by Regulus not wanting to use it on the house elf. Regulus finds nothing about it amusing. Nothing at all.
"No but.." Regulus looks between Kreacher and Voldemort with a pensive look. "Surely you must know so much about this potion that you can tell if it has been made correctly? I mean you are a potions master after all." Regulus takes on his mothers persona, trying to stroke his ego so he'll let it go. So he'll let Kreacher go.
"Ah, my boy," Voldemort shakes his head with a smile as he goes to stand, Regulus feels his stomach turn at his words. "Testing it is the best part." He smiles gleefully, it's all teeth and the corners of his eyes turn upwards. Regulus suddenly realises, suddenly comprehends that he is talking to THE Dark Lord. He's heard the horror story's of the man standing right in front of him and he thought he would just play potions? Regulus suddenly felt sick because he couldn't think of something, anything.
"Kreacher is happy to help." He spoke monotonal, Regulus looked at Kreacher with a sad and pained expression as all he could do was stand still. Kreacher had never been hurt before, not by his parents and definitely not by the Black siblings. It was only now becoming a thought that it could happen and it just made Regulus more anxious.
"He has been many a' help to me lately, with lots of things. This won't be any different." Regulus doesn't like it, any of it but he can’t think.
"Why do we have to test it? Surely we don't want to waste any?" He tried to reason but Voldemort rolled his eyes.
"It's not difficult to make or it shouldn't be." He sends a glance to Regulus but he doesn't care if Voldemort thinks he's stupid because Kreacher is taking the vial and-
Crack, the glass breaks across the floor as Regulus lets out a breath in-between the two beings. Regulus's mind is clear, looking at Kreacher he did not expect this either.
The red potion leaks from the broken glass as it spills onto the floor, they stare, waiting. Regulus doesn’t know what to do. What he just did.
"You foolish boy." Voldemort shakes his head as he sighs. Much to Regulus's wishing, footsteps could be heard, loud and harsh as they moved closer. The footsteps, Regulus's heart beat and the grand clock in the library all sync as seconds tick by.
Tick, the person gets closer.
Tick, Regulus can't breath looking at Voldemort go back to the table.
Tick, the clock ding's to signal an hour has passed.
The door's to the library open on the third chime.
All Regulus can do is stand and wait, not being able to move. When he glances up he can see his father taking in the scene, he sees the narrow eyed look that he send's Regulus before telling Kreacher to clean the mess. "And How did this happen?" He asks Regulus, the patronising voice creating fear when everything was so silent. So he just stands there, not talking and not moving.
Voldemort doesn't seem to pick up on any of it, "A dropped vial, we have plenty more potion though. Your son is skilled at potion's, a bit clumsy though. We should remedy that before next summer." He whispers to himself mostly and the compliment goes over both their heads, focusing on the last statement.
"Hmm, yes why don’t we remedy that Regulus?" Orion asks, a pleasant smile on his lips. It's anything but comforting, Regulus nod's.
"Speak, boy." His tone is harsh as he demands a response.
Regulus gives in, "Yes, sir." He breathes out but not from relief. Kreacher has cleaned the floor by now but Regulus knows better than to do anything. He knows he shouldn't have broken the vial but he also knows that Kreacher shouldn't take potions to taste how much pain they cause. Regulus is just now realising how similar this situation was to one before, when Sirius had broken the vial for him multiple times.
He can't help the flurry of emotions running through him. Relief, that Sirius isn't here this winter. Happiness, that Sirius is probably laughing with his friend's and doing mundane things that they were never allowed to do. Regulus remembers when Sirius had swore that one day they would build a snowman together, he thinks that's probably what Sirius is doing right now. It makes him sad, to not be there, to not be with his brother. Fear, that one takes over the rest, for what's about to come. Regulus remembers all the time's Sirius was standing exactly where he was right now and he can't help but feel a small amount of content. For being able to do what Sirius always did so easily.
But looking back at his father…
He wants his brother.
Why couldn’t he have done that for Sirius?
Later in the evening Regulus finds himself standing outside of the study, the door is wide as is curves at the top. The dark green spreads all over it, the stone archway that is painted black is weathered from its old age. The door looks more rotten than the forest green it was before. As Regulus goes to knock, taking a breath for himself.
The silver door handle turns, "Come in." Is demanded of him as the door opens. Regulus walks into the room to see his father sitting at the study desk, his posture is straight and still as he crosses his hands together. He sits overwhelmingly hatful as he stares at Regulus.
His mother stood beside him, standing tall and like the dress she was wearing, dark and overpowering. Regulus stood in the middle of the room, looking at the both of them as he tried not to move.
"I don't know what he sees in you." His mother started, shaking her head as she spoke with scabrous eyes. Regulus lowered his head as she spoke, it drew a long sigh out of her.
"He sees something, obviously." Orion looked the boy up and down with an uninterested look.
"We wanted Sirius to become his.. apprentice if you will." Regulus looked up quickly at his parent's, understanding their words but wanting them not to be true. Regulus thought his parents to be stupid, Sirius had obviously ran away and not looked back. "We know he is having this little phase right now but come summer he will have no choice but to return." His parents smiled widely at the plan they had formed. To force Sirius back in summer, he would still be 16 then and he wouldn't be able to say no to them. No one would. It made Regulus feel sick, a feeling of dread spread about his body.
Sirius, Sirius, Sirius. It was always Sirius with them. He probably couldn’t even see it, how much their parents preferred him. They didn’t know Regulus enough to like him, all they knew is that he was quiet and obeyed.
"But The Dark Lord seems to have taken a liking to you Regulus. As you have heard he has his own plans come next summer." Orion points a look at Regulus, making him figure it out.
"I see." He says, not knowing what to really say. His relief is overcome by the dread that is causing his heart to race. Voldemort wants Regulus instead of Sirius, 'to become what? An apprentice?' Regulus finds his face contorting at the thought. "Next summer?" He says breathlessly, Orion rolls his eyes and takes a large inhale. He's annoyed but Regulus can't stop thinking. "That sounds wonderful," he smiles at his parents.
Surprising both of them and himself, they look at each other with thoughtful expressions before looking back at Regulus. Taking in the boy with looks of acceptance. Regulus just smiled back, smiling through the dread. "Although I have got many assignment's that will be due next summer, maybe we could do it next winter. I find it would be rather poetic, a good start to a new year?" Regulus propositioned, a sweet smile on his face as he stared up to his parent's.
They looked thoughtful of all he had brought up, Orion had stood at this point. "I will think about that, this has been rather enlightening." His eyes shone but life was devoted to them. He wore a gleeful grin as he walked to leave the room, "You see Regulus, if this is to happen then we can't have you being clumsy and becoming a problem. You understand, don't you son?" He lay a hand on Regulus's shoulder, he thinks this is the first time his father has acknowledged him as his son.
"Yes, Sir." Regulus says with a smile, his hands shake next to him and he takes a shuddering breath.
It was truly unlucky that his name was Regulus Arcturus Black.
"You're going to be so good," His mother said once Orion had left.
(Flashback)
"You're going to be so good." A darker voice repeated, rougher and deeper. A man stood in place where Walburga stood, he stood confidently and with a wicked smile on his face. The air around them darkened, the wall's turned darker. As if they weren't there at all. "Yes, Father." The young Walburga replied, gripping tightly to her dark velvet dress, taking in deeper breaths as his wand got higher.
(END flashback)
"This is for your benefit." Walburga told Regulus with a smile, raising her wand until it touched his side. She smiled at him confidently as she pulled away slightly, she truly believed the words she was saying.
He could take it. Sirius had. So he could take it.
He can take it. He can take it. He can take it. He can take it. He can take it.
Until he couldn’t.
Once Walburga had left, Regulus found himself sitting on the floor. Arms shaking as he tries to lift himself, only to wince in pain as his arm gives way and he falls to the ground again. He went to call out before stopping with a dull thud on the floor as he let his head fall.
As tears pooled in his eyes he called out instead, "Kreacher." He apparated instantly into the room, hesitating before going to kneel before him on the floor. "Regulus." He cried mournfully, the tone made him groan. He wasn't dying- he didn't think he was. Kreacher apologised softly as he tucked his arm around his back, apparating them both down to the basement.
Kreacher shuts the door with a snap of his fingers before approaching the boy. "Regulus?" He puts a hand on the boy's knee to gain his attention as he sits in the wooden chair.
Regulus huff's a wet laugh, "Remember how long it took for you to call me that." He smiles at Kreacher but it doesn't reach his eye. It barely glosses over his face.
"It was an order, you're parent's- they said to call you Young Master." Kreacher says as a fact as he moves away to grab a cup from a cabinet, his eye brows shoot up as he says it. A smile on his face after he does.
"I'm- glad." Regulus follows Kreacher with his eyes as he moves around the small room, a small smile on his face at Kreacher's tone. When the cup is full he brings it over to the boy and hands it to him, "Drink this, little King." Kreacher says softly as the candle light illuminates the small space. Regulus nods, happy with the nickname as he sips the drink with his left arm.
"Your shoulder?" Kreacher asks, still keeping his distance. "It's fine." He says but the sniffle and the way his forearm rests on his lap says otherwise. "Mother said not to heal it." He whispers.
Regulus sits and Kreacher stands in silence for a while. When Regulus finishes the tea Kreacher clicks it away, he asks softly. "Shall we move to your room?" He holds his hand out.
Regulus doesn't speak, he leans forwards and grabs the hand. He grabs it tightly, afraid if he lets go that Kreacher will be gone too.
Kreacher doesn't leave, doesn't complain about the locked grip the boy has on his hand. Instead he clicks them outside Regulus's room, Regulus sways on his feet for a second before looking at the door and moving backwards. Kreacher tries to urge the boy softly towards the door but Regulus starts to walk down the hall.
Because he might not be here right now but he needs it. Needs comfort, he needs him.
Kreacher follows the boy down the dimly lit hallway with a pained expression until they stand in front of the black door with golden accents that still move around though could barely be seen in the darkness.
"Please." Regulus places a palm on the door, Kreacher looks at the door with sadness before taking a breath. He clicks his fingers and they are now inside. The room is the same as Regulus's, with more golden embroidery and nicely set furnishing.
Regulus dismisses everything in the room, walking over to the old wardrobe that stood in the corner of the room with Kreacher next to him, their hands still conjoined.
It had seen better days, with a few scratches and dents marrying its surface, but it still had a certain elegance to it. The shelves inside were mostly empty, a few old robes hung from the rod, their fabric faded and worn from years of use. All in all, the wardrobe seemed to be a relic of a bygone era, a reminder of simpler times when things were built to last.
Regulus feels silly as he opens the wardrobe. As he moves the backboard to open a small space, he feels resentment as he reaches in and pulls out a red and gold jumper. Childish as he puts the jumper over his head and pulls it down his body.
The biggest difference between them isn’t their house allegiance; a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. A Potter or Black. It was one harboured a burning hatred of Walburga, so much that having the chance, he wouldn’t save her. Her hurt being deserved, a consequence of the choices she made. The other would foolishly want to save her, knowing her choices were stripped and her heart broken. Hoping that version would love him differently. Love him entirely, unconsciously.
"Stay?" He whispers into the darkness. His voice shaken as he looks with pleading eyes, Kreacher looks back, only the dull moonlight coming from holes in the curtains luminating the room.
"I'll always stay, little King." Kreacher whisper's to him and the boy finally closes his eyes. After a few breaths the pressure in his hands subsides but he doesn't leave, he doesn't let go.