fighting the inevitable

Regulus desperately tried to control his breathing, cupping his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound of his heaves and resting a shaking hand atop his heart. He was incredibly out of shape but when he saw Mulciber turning down the corridor with Snape and Avery at his heels, adrenaline burst through him, propelling his feet in the opposite direction before he could swing open the nearest door and hide.

They were always cruel and while Regulus wasn’t ever scared of them before, they became more brash as the Dark Lord gained power outside of the school walls. They were desperate for his attention, for approval from anyone , and they deemed acts of cruelty a surefire way to get what they wanted.

While he assumed being a Black would offer him some sort of protection from the others, it became more of a test than anything. He should know how to protect himself in a duel, cast the Unforgivables with ease, and how to win . Theoretically, he did know but that didn’t mean he was interested in having to prove it every other day.

“Oi Black, where’d you run off to? Scared are you?” the raspy voice of Mulciber called out and Regulus cursed internally knowing he’d been caught.

He didn’t dare move from his spot.

“Poor baby Black, I thought Sirius was the disappointment, not him,” Avery goaded on.

Their steps grew louder until he peered at the small space between the aged wooden door and stone tile and saw a dark shadow looming outside. He crouched deeper into the closet, wishing he could just melt into the wall.

“What’s that spell we learned in class today Snape, remind me,” Mulciber said with an air of amusement.

There was the sound of a slight shifting, the sound of someone pulling out their wand, “ Hominem Revelio ” Snape drawled and there was only a moment before the door in front of him was blasted open sending wood chips flying, embedding themselves into his skin and robes.

He raised an arm in an effort to cover his face but when he felt something warm drip down his cheek, he knew his efforts had been in vain.

“Never thought you’d be one to run away from a duel but looks like I’ve been proven wrong,” Mulciber teased as he twirled his wand in his hand between his thick fingers.

“I’m sure that happens to you a lot,” Regulus responded, already closing his hands around his wand in his pocket and stepping out of the closet to put space between them.

Three to one weren’t really great odds. Normally, maybe, but when the three consisted of two rabid dogs and a snotty rat, the outlook wasn’t great.

Mulciber’s face quickly reddened and whatever Mulciber did, Avery mimicked, but Snape just stood a step behind them, watching the interaction intently but never directly intervening. He seemed to reserve all his anger for the Gryffindors.

“I see you’re looking well,” Regulus commented on the bruise that still bloomed across Avery’s jaw, courtesy of a well aimed bludger to the face after their last Quidditch practice. 

Being a Seeker, Regulus’ sole purpose was supposed to be to catch the Snitch but he was still seething from his sabotaged potion from the day before practice and so a well aimed spell at the bludger had it flying straight to him.

“I knew it was you, you prick,” Avery snarled, pushing forward, wand aloft.

Regulus slowly inched away, hoping that if he just got to a busier corridor, they’d leave well enough alone but everyone was at Hogsmeade today and it was unlikely anyone would come to their rescue anyways.

He aimed to take another step but when he couldn’t do so, he looked down and then back up at Snape who smirked lightly, wand pointed at his shoes. In a swift motion, his wand flicked up and he petrified him, leaving only his eyes to dart around at his surroundings.

“Nice one Snape,” Mulciber said rather dumbly.

“Say, this would be a good opportunity to practise some curses,” Snape said offhandedly, attempting to sound uninterested, but his eyes were alight with intent.

Regulus began to feel actual fear bloom in his chest now. He wasn’t ignorant to what kind of spells the students in the years above him practised in the privacy of their dorms. The dorms often reeked of sulphur and dark magic- it smelled like home.

While normally someone like Mulciber wouldn’t be an ‘ideal’ death eater in the way Lucius or his parents were in that he was rough handed and brash, not very intelligent either, he did have the capacity for brutality. He was easy to anger and quick to fight, ready to settle any disagreement with the raise of his wand and that is what gave him the upper hand here.

“Are you familiar with the Imperius Curse?” Mulciber asked, circling him like a shark to prey.

He couldn’t respond even if he wanted to.

Suddenly, Mulciber’s round face was on his own and he could feel his hot breath on his neck, snaking down his collar. He wanted to rip off his own skin and escape but it was impossible, he was forced to let them happen to him.

He was intimately familiar with the Imperius curse and the way those under it were nothing more than mere playthings to the caster. It was used often by Walburga, specifically when they had company over. She almost always cast it on Sirius and she used to do it to him too until he had learned that taking after Sirius would offer him nothing but punishment and just followed her orders exactly. Sometimes he felt like the Imperius Curse was just ingrained in him.

“Imperio! ”

Regulus felt his limbs relax and he couldn’t really even remember what he was so upset about. After having experienced the curse many times, he wasn’t completely brainless but anytime he tried to think too hard about anything, the thought drifted away and he was calm again.

“Let him go,” Mulciber turned to Snape before turning back, deep in thought, index finger tapping his cleft chin before ordering, “punch yourself in the face.”

He felt his right hand raise slowly and his fingers contract into a fist before connecting with his cheek with a harsh crack. Pain radiated from the epicentre of his cheek and he knew the cut opened anew as warm liquid dripped over the hot skin, making him feel like he was on fire.

The three of them laughed, delighting in his pain and they discussed what they wanted to do next as he just stood there as prisoner.

“Kiss Avery’s shoe,” Mulciber ordered next.

Regulus was slightly more aware of this as he knelt on all fours, feeling the stone floor harshly under his knobby knees and he pressed a light touch of his lips to the crinkled leather of his shoe. It smelled of dirt and shoe polish and just when he was about to pull away, Avery kicked up and into his throat.

He choked for a moment, gasping for air until, “Follow us.”

He immediately ceased his choking, stood up quickly, and followed two steps behind them- wherever they went, so did he.

They didn’t seem to have a plan as they just walked aimlessly around the school. They told him to hex a first year Hufflepuff, which he did, to step on his own feet, which he did, and soon enough they were outside.

“Climb up that tree, then jump out of it,” Mulciber ordered, elbowing his cronies. He definitely broke his ankle in the fall and then proceeded to limp to their destination.

It wasn’t until they were in front of the Black Lake that the cloudiness began to fade just slightly, his vision slightly clearing as his mental faculties worked to grasp at any tether to himself.

Avery whispered something to Mulciber who smirked before picking up a stick from the tree he’d just jumped from and commanded, “Fetch.”

He threw it with as much force as he could and it landed in the centre of the lake, at its deepest point, ripples from the disruption flowing outward.

Regulus didn’t know how to swim.

He’d never learned and never considered that it would come back to haunt him.

“And while you’re down there, bring us back five large stones would you?”

It was pointless but that was the point. They could’ve ordered him to just drown himself but that wouldn’t be fun would it, it would be far too quick and painless, this was forcing him to complete an impossible task. 

They didn’t know he couldn’t swim but they’d find out soon enough. It was possible that someone else would actually be able to complete the task quick enough and live, but it wouldn’t be him.

He was being pushed to the lake by some invisible force and when he tried to dig his feet into the wet sand under his feet, it was to no avail. The force was stronger than he and he felt dread coil in his gut and seep into his veins as the dark water slowly consumed him.

He watched numbly as first his shoes disappeared, then his knees, hips, chest, until finally, he was under.

He kept walking until the sand gave way beneath him and he was rapidly sinking. His thick winter robes weighed him down and the frozen water made it so all his extremities were numb. 

Still, the pull of the spell was on him and he knew he had to find the bloody stick but it was impossible. He couldn’t tell what was up or down as he tumbled and thrashed, his robes swallowing him up but the water was just as black regardless.

He had never given much thought to how he would die but never did he think he would drown, especially in the Black Lake of all places.

Panic seized him like a vice and even though his eyes were open, it was as though he was blinded because he couldn’t stabilise his sight for more than a moment.

It felt like the gravity was magnified within the inky depths he was swathed in.

He felt something brush past him and he recoiled, gasping, which only caused water to rush through him, flooding his throat and lungs until he was drowning internally.

He floundered, wanting to find a way out, to push off from the ground to propel himself or hold onto something to ground him but it was pointless. The need to complete the task and his will to live were in an aggressive fight in his mind.

Where’s the fucking stick? He thought hysterically, the ringing sound in his ears intensifying.

If he could think, that means they must’ve let the spell go.

The relief was infinitesimal because he was still dying and the fact that he was still under the water meant that the others must have left, not wanting to be caught watching him die.

His breathing began to shallow and his movements slowed as he felt himself slowly drift downwards, the pressure building in his ears and exploding through his mind. His eyes were weighed shut and soon the drowning gave way to weightlessness. His mouth opened slightly, water moving in and out of his body as if he was a part of the natural environment within the Lake.

It was rather nice actually. He couldn’t help the thought that floated unbidden to the forefront of his mind- Maybe he should just give in? There was no point in fighting the inevitable really and what did he have out there that was worth living for? Fighting for?

He made up his mind before it emptied again and all he felt was the cool water threading through his fingers and hair, encasing him, preserving his slowly cooling corpse.

________

Water whipped past him in a frenzy before he burst through the glass surface of the water.

He was weightless for another moment, flying in a seamless arc across the sky, before he connected with the ground with a harsh thud.

He gasped upon impact, opening his eyes wide and seeing the grey sky above him. The clouds hung heavy in the air, full with the promise of rain, and Regulus never thought he’d see the sky again.

Water propelled up through his throat and he immediately coughed it up and turned his strained neck to vomit the rest of the meagre contents in his stomach.

His body was numb when still but anytime he tested his arm or leg, it shrieked in pain.

When he turned back to the lake, he saw a black eye the size of an ostrich egg blink back at him once before dipping back under the water.

He couldn’t even begin to process that right now.

His teeth began to chatter relentlessly and he felt horribly dizzy but he was sure to die from hypothermia now if he didn’t get inside and to Madam Pomfrey immediately. He didn’t want to go to her but he supposed he’d sacrifice his ego to live just to end the persistent pain cycling through him.

Despite the refusal of all his muscles, he managed to stand up and froze for a moment to outlast the dizziness that overtook him lest he keel over again.

His ankle was still incredibly broken and he decided to cast a disillusionment charm so no one had to see his walk of shame to the infirmary.

In hindsight, he realised that it might have been a bit stupid to do so in case he fell and passed out in the middle of the corridor and was just left there until someone tripped over his invisible form but he used it as motivation to make it there.

His jaw began to ache from how hard he trembled and his robes continued to weigh him down even outside of the water as they dragged along the floor behind him. The cold air coupled with it in a horrible medley of pain and he just didn’t want to feel anything anymore.

He almost cried when he made it to the crisp white doors of the infirmary and raised a battered hand to the door before pushing through it using the full weight of his body.

His eyes landed on the form of James Potter, standing next to Sirius, who was sitting on the bed of a sleeping Remus Lupin right by the door. They looked at him, or rather the intrusion, with confusion at the same moment Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room from somewhere in the back.

He figured he was in safe enough hands before dropping the disillusionment which was all he could do before he passed out again, hitting the floor with another crack.

________

Regulus woke up a few hours later, if the night sky visible through the windows was any indication, to Madam Pomfrey shoving a vial of green sludge down his throat.

He choked and spluttered, “What is that?” he asked, voice coming out harsh and scratchy. His throat felt a stark contrast from before, once filled with water and now as dry and brittle as the sand on the shore.

“It’ll help with the twitching,” Madam Pomfrey said kindly.

Regulus’ hand was relentless and he wouldn’t even have noticed it had the mediwitch not mentioned it.

It had been an unfortunate side effect of the Imperius, that much he already knew. He always dealt with tremors after Walburga had been especially violent during one of her episodes. He had a feeling this one would last.

Madam Pomfrey put a hand on his shoulder and he pulled back violently, feeling the light touch overwhelming.

He still felt like his body wasn’t even his own and today was a reminder that it wasn’t, not really, against someone powerful enough.

The witch looked at him sadly but kept her hands to herself and instead, used her wand to lightly hover the remaining potions in front of him so that he may pluck them from the air himself.

He did so then but made no move to take them.

“Regulus, dear, I must ask, what happened?” she asked, brows furrowed together, lips turned down. 

“C-Can I leave?” he asked, remembering not only who else was in the room but needing privacy, time to gather whatever of himself remained.

“I’m afraid I’d like to keep you overnight for observation, if all goes well, you can be released in the morning but I need you to tell me what happened for you to come to the Hospital wing in such a state.”

It was almost comedic how much she cared but only because he had shown up here. He could have just as easily trudged down to the dungeons and died there and it wouldn’t have made a difference.

It might have been easier if he had.

In lieu of a response, he laid down on the small cot and turned away from her, shutting his eyes harshly knowing there was no use bargaining for his escape. He didn’t even have the energy to be snarky in return. The last time he used bitter words in a fight had landed him here in “that state.”

She loosed a breath before stepping out, light flooding his bed before she shut them behind her, enveloping him in darkness again. It seemed to be all he was destined for.

He had been surrounded by darkness from the moment he was born. Walburga told him the clouds were so thick it seemed as though they would sweep down and cloak all of London within their billowing reach. From then on it was Grimmauld and then to the dungeons of Hogwarts that was perpetually dark under the haze of the Black Lake that was meant to be soothing but now only reminded him of death.

He heard shuffling and murmuring from the other side of the curtain but he couldn’t care to try and decipher what they were saying. Had this happened to him when Sirius first left Grimmauld, he might’ve strained his ear or even cast a charm to overhear, desperate for any information that slipped from his brother's lips, but he couldn’t even muster the energy to cast a muffliato on them. He used the last of his energy to let his eyes fall shut and release the tension that overtook him.

_____

The easy lull of sleep felt more like a harsh pull, like he was being dragged underwater by a kelpie until he realised that he actually was. His arms were outstretched above him as he was being pulled further and further down and he tried and failed to grasp at anything that could save him.

Pressure was building in his ears and fear gripped him as the water rushed past him. His fear was so overwhelming that he opened his mouth to scream, just as he had done a few hours prior.

He screamed and screamed, able to hear his voice clearly despite the water but it wasn’t enough. He could hear the kelpie cackling violently beneath him as it dug its nails into the delicate skin of his ankle to ensure he couldn’t escape.

No one could hear his pleas for help, for mercy.

He thought he might have been okay with dying had he died in the Black Lake but this made him realise he wasn’t okay with it, he was terrified and now that it was happening, he cried out, desperately wishing for someone to hear him.

His body lurched and his vision flashed from midnight blue water to the face of James Potter, gripping his shoulders hard enough to bruise just above him.

He immediately sat up and jerked away from him, feeling the phantom pressure of his fingertips lingering above him as if pushing him to the bed.

James looked at him as if he was the kelpie, fear and stress mingling in his expression.

“Are you okay? You were screaming bloody murder,” James asked, his voice all too loud in the silent Infirmary.

Regulus just swallowed hungry gulps of air and tried to slow his heart that thrummed painfully against his ribs. His hand continued to shake and he wanted to disappear more than he ever had before.

“I-,” he couldn’t get anything out, anything he tried to say died in his throat.

“You were having a nightmare.”

He couldn’t tell whether it was a question or a statement and he let the words hang in the air between them. The letters flitting about until they disintegrated, leaving the two in silence.

Regulus just nodded, not trusting his voice.

“I know it’s not my place but…what happened? You walked in here like you’d been drowned,” James asked lightly though from the look in his eyes, Regulus could tell he was very much interested in the response.

It was disconcerting to have James sitting in front of him, asking him how he was as if they were friends. 

He had been violated in every conceivable way by Mulciber and the others but sitting under James’ glare made him feel exposed and raw, like there was no escape.

He supposed others might feel comfortable under the weight of James’ hazel eyes but they were suffocating to Regulus who had so rarely ever received the full attention of someone. He was nothing more than a mere footnote in most peoples’ lives that to be magnified was terrifying rather than exhilarating.

“You're right, it's not your place,” Regulus whispered quietly.

Before James could even respond, Regulus had checked out of the conversation. He turned to see a small midnight blue vial resting on the small table and identified it to be Dreamless Sleep. He uncorked it and downed it in one go before laying back down, his back to James.

He closed his eyes but his mind was wide awake, his skin prickling at the fact that James was so close to him, along with his brother and Lupin. His brother's friends hated him as much as Mulciber and the others might and they could easily put him under the Imperius as they had.

That might go against their typical Gryffindor morals but he knew they weren’t above cruelty masked as fun.

He heard James sigh before opening and closing the curtains but Regulus still turned and peeked to ensure that James was on the other side of them and when he saw he was, he pulled his wand from the table beside them and put it under his pillow for easy access.

Regulus was so paranoid he didn’t put it past himself to end up hexing himself in his sleep but it gave him a false sense of security as the potion dulled each of his senses desirably until all that was left was him and the endless abyss of his mind.

______

When Regulus opened his eyes to grey light watering in through the window panes, he thought he might be okay.

It was the slightest moment between waking up and awareness that was Regulus’ favourite time of day. Sometimes the feeling stretched on like an elastic but today it snapped almost immediately as the events of last night and where was today filtered from the recesses of his mind into the forefront.

He gathered his things, changed his clothes as silently as he could, and slipped out of the main doors before Madam Pomfrey even had a chance to check on him again.

He might have felt better with a few more potions but it was an entirely different sort of torture to have to wake up here and he wouldn’t endure it for longer than he had to.

He had to retain some semblance of control of his life before he felt himself shatter.

The walk back to the dorms was uneventful, just as Regulus preferred but when he stood outside the wall to the common room, he couldn’t bring himself to open it, to say the single world that would allow him entry and face the black lake looming above him.

He turned and left to go to the Ravenclaw Tower instead- to Pandora.

When he’d finally trudged up to the tower, the bronze eagle that rested imperiously on the oak doors rattled off a riddle instantly and Regulus wanted to cry, this was why he never wanted to come up here.

The riddles were always stupid but obvious and it annoyed him to no end. Anyone could solve the riddles if they were “creative” enough and he supposed that was the whole point of being in Ravenclaw so he disagreed with the entire sentiment that they were all geniuses in there because anyone with half a wit could get in.

On second thought, that’s probably why those like Mulciber didn’t get in.

The eagle spread its wings out wide before opening its sharp beak and speaking in a deep voice, “You see a boat filled with people. It has not sunk, but when you look again you don’t see a single person on the boat. Why?”

“Fuck me,” he muttered. 

“Not quite,” the eagle responded much to his annoyance.

“They disapparated,” he responded.

“Not quite,” it repeated with that monotone voice.

He looked down at his sodden shoes, kicked at the pebbles on the floor as he thought about it, sifting through each word and what meaning might be interwoven between the words tying them together.

Of course, “They’re all married to each other.”

“Welcome to Ravenclaw Tower,” the eagle bowed before the perch it was on twisted into a door handle that Regulus clasped onto and pushed forward with, propelling him into the Common Room.

It was quite lovely here and Regulus could imagine enjoying being a Ravenclaw if it meant being able to come back to this sight every day. While his family wouldn’t be happy with a Ravenclaw, it certainly was better than being a Gryffindor.

The wall opposite him was covered in glass panelling, each pane depicting a different scene, some of nature while others were of notable historical figures or events. They were much more animated than the standard magical image and depending on the angle of the sun, the scene reflected on the floor beneath them changed, immersing the viewer into a different story each hour of every day. It was too early to see anything but Regulus knew the scene of a grassy meadow always came first.

Bookshelves lined the walls but that wasn’t all for in the corners were easels, paints, sketchbooks, clay, and all other mediums of art. It was a sort of organised chaos within and Regulus could see paintings that others left out to dry and particularly enjoyed the one that seemed to be Flitwick jumping across lily pads.

He walked past the few students that must have fallen asleep in the midst of working in the common room and went up the stairs to the girls' dorms. Most dorms had charms to ensure those of the opposite gender couldn’t go into each others spaces but the Ravenclaw dorms were a bit more intuitive, knowing that not everyone necessarily subscribed to those categories or had different needs  and instead, the charms could be changed only by a member of the house to allow certain people access, with everyone else’s consent of course.

It was a lengthy process but one Pandora had done for Regulus for times such as this.

He walked past doors marked with each year until coming upon the one engraved with a simple, ‘5.’

He knocked lightly and a small mousy looking girl opened the door, he knew her to be Milena, “Is Pandora in? I’d like to talk to her please.”

She looked at him, head to toe, with her glasses that made her eyes bulge thrice their original size. Taking in his clearly distressed appearance, she nodded quickly and allowed him access.

He went to Pandora’s bed where the curtains were shut and whispered, “Pandora?”

He heard shuffling before they were pulled open, “Regulus! I was just doing some yoga, come in!”

He shrugged off his outside robes and climbed in.

Pandora looked angelic in the early light, her shining hair left unbound to flow past her shoulders in ringlets and the pale pink nightgown she wore that hung loosely over her form. Her smile was genuine and her eyelids drooped unevenly as she smiled at Regulus, clearly having just woken up.

He sat across from her at the foot of the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. The blue curtains around her bed just reminded him of the lake that swallowed him whole without remorse.

“What happened?” she asked, immediately concerned, seeming to understand Regulus without him even needing to say anything.

“I just- I- can we-,” he spluttered and he was so frustrated that he couldn’t get out a word as he felt his hand tapping rhythmically against his leg. Pandora watched him patiently, never rushing him or forcing him to get a word out and it was so kind, so much kinder than he ever deserved, that he just began to cry.

He cried in her arms openly, knowing no one would hear him, and it was the safest he’d felt in a while.

He told her what happened, the incident yesterday and thereafter, and that he never wanted to step foot into the Slytherin common rooms ever again.

“You’re welcome here anytime,” she cooed softly to him before pulling out a small bag of Sugar quills she had gotten from Hogsmeade yesterday.

“Sugar helps the wrackspurts,” she explained, unwrapping one gently and handing it to him.

“I can’t believe you’re still on those, I never should’ve given you that book,” he smiled weakly before accepting gratefully despite it not being an appropriate breakfast food.

She left him there a little bit later, wanting to assure Barty and Evan that he hadn’t vanished at Breakfast, and Regulus just sat on a small ledge by the window, staring at the Black Lake in the distance.

He saw vague movement by the crest of the lake and tapped the window twice with his wand, causing it to shift and the scene in front of him was magnified.

It was James and Regulus only watched him with horror as he raised both arms high above his head before leaping into the water, jumping in without any water splashing back up. He was as lithe as a serpent and he felt his heart stop when he didn’t come up for air.

The water went still and Regulus’ heart pounded at the thought that he was drowning soundlessly, with no one to help him.

No one was there and while Regulus may hold no fondness for the boy, that didn’t mean he wanted him to die.

Just before he was about to jump up and call for help, James burst up through the water and Regulus’ could almost hear his ringing laughter from the smile plastered on his face.

His movements slowly ceased and he just floated on his back for a moment, the early rays of sunlight peeking over the mountains and dancing across his sharp features that seemed to absorb the light and reflect it outwards with double the strength.

Regulus tapped the window again, not wanting to see any more of it.

He retreated back to Pandora’s bed and fell into a deep sleep, imagining what it must feel like to float atop warm water rather than drowning in icy depths.