tea for master Orion
He was moments away from leaving the house in search of Kreacher on his own when a loud pop sounded downstairs.
He ran out of his room, flying down the stairs so fast he nearly tumbled down them but he didn’t notice it over the roaring in his ears. Kreacher had been gone for nearly seven hours- far longer than he ever could’ve expected.
Grabbing the end of the bannister, he used it to help him turn to keep from running into the wall and at last, he arrived in the receiving room.
His elf was soaking wet and trembling, dripping water all over the grey rug set under him. He was foaming at the mouth and bleeding from a cut on the side of his head and he was doubled over, unable to even carry his own slight weight. He raised his head just slightly to look at him, sighed a light rattling breath, and collapsed.
“Kreacher!” he shouted, lunging forward and scooping up his body.
He didn’t even think with his body propelling him forward, down the stairs, and into the basement away from his mother’s prying eyes. She’d never once come down here, it was technically a space only for the elves but he’d come down here dozens of times before just to escape her so he was familiar with the layout.
He placed Kreacher gently on the long wooden table in the centre of the Kitchens and he bumped his head against the ceiling as he stood straight, scowling for only a second before he grabbed his wand and began to dry Kreacher down.
He was thankfully awake but mumbling incoherently to himself, clearly not in his right mind.
“M-Master,” he shook violently, his bones hitting against the table and Regulus was towering over him as he begged,
“Kreacher, what- what happened?” he asked, knowing it was fruitless due to the elf’s state but he needed to know what exactly Voldemort had done to him. Besides the cut, there was nothing physically wrong with him and every healing charm he cast just slid off of him, indicating he was fine but his eyes told a different story.
“Water,” he begged weakly with a small outstretched hand and that gave him something to do.
He grabbed the nearest cup and cast an Aguamenti in it, watching the glass fill up with water and he gently coaxed it down the elf’s throat, propping his head up so he could swallow it.
That seemed to help as his bones ceased to shake and his breathing slowly evened out. He filled the glass once more before letting Kreacher back down and healing the now coagulated cut on the side of his head.
It was stupid but he’d never realised elf blood was blue, never once learned about it, and now his fingers were coated in it.
Once he deemed Kreacher safe enough to move, he picked him up and took him to his own room, not wanting to leave him exposed out here or to go back to his cupboard. He placed him gently on top of his bed and bided his time in a chair as he waited for Kreacher to wake up and tell him what the hell had happened.
__________
“Mr. Black, I allowed you and Mr. Potter an extra week and I’m afraid if you do not tell me where he is, I will be forced to take more severe actions,” McGonagall’s stern face hissed into the flames.
“Minnie, you know I love seeing you, but what are you talking about?” Sirius asked, as he leaned back on his heels wondering how, after already having left Hogwarts, he still managed to make her upset.
“Playing dumb will not work with me Mr. Black. Your mother has ignored each of my missives and none of us have heard from him in weeks,” she frowned, the flames serving to make her look even more terrifying.
This finally brought him to attention, “Are you talking about Regulus? What do you mean?”
She sighed deeply, “Please speak to Mr. Potter, I will remain in contact,” and with that she left.
“James!” he shouted into the empty house. The house felt far too large these days with it only being the two of them. He and Remus bought a flat a few months ago and had always planned on moving into it right out of school but he didn’t feel right about leaving James in this big house all alone. It was all well though because Remus had all but moved in here by now though, his clothes steadily taking up a larger space in his wardrobe.
That wasn’t to say he even saw much of him these days with Dumbledore sending him off on longer and more confidential missions. Sirius couldn’t help but think he orchestrated some of them himself just to get some time away. He wouldn’t blame him but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Pete still lived at home with his family who wanted him to stay with them as long as possible and it didn’t really matter all that much because he spent almost all of his free time working, where he lived was just wherever he slept at night before getting up and going through the entire day all over again. He had all but ceased seeing them at all, only popping into meetings occasionally or when he was needed before escaping again.
“Yeah?” he shouted from the Library and he got up and made his way there.
He found James curled up in a cushion by the window alcove, a book in his lap, and his glasses slipping down his long nose. He was still in his pyjamas and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in days with a dark shadow steadily growing along his jawline.
“So, do you want to tell me why Minnie just called us asking where Regulus is and that you’ve apparently already heard about this?” he asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the adjacent shelves.
He was almost expecting James to be as surprised as he was but when his brows furrowed and lips thinned, he knew that James was well aware of what he was talking about. He put the book aside and unfolded his legs leaving them to swing aimlessly beneath him, “Look, I was going to tell you about it but I wanted to at least figure something out first so we wouldn’t both be clueless.”
He sighed just because he didn’t really know what to think, “Well just tell me what happened then.”
“Look,” he gestured with his hands, “Reg left exactly when he said he would but when he threw the powder into the grate, he called out Grimmauld instead of McGonagall’s office. I didn’t know why but I figured maybe he needed something before going back. When she called me a couple days after asking where Regulus was, I was also confused so I sent a letter using a post owl but I don’t think got it. I’ve been sending letters almost every day since and still haven’t gotten a response.”
A groan escaped his mouth before he could think better of it, “James, you can’t just-” he took a deep breath, knowing neither of them have exactly been in their right mind lately, “You haven’t gotten a single response from him? Has he been receiving the owls?”
He shook his head, at a complete loss, “I don’t know.”
While he just felt annoyed and confused, he looked at James and saw pain and heartbreak, he saw worry and anxiety clouding his features and weighing him down. He imagined that might be how he looked after a full moon or when Moony went out on some mission and he didn’t know where he was.
With Regulus it was only worse, so often it seemed like the world was against him, the same way the tide of the ocean rose and smashed against the rocks on the shore, breaking, before pulling back and doing it all over again.
“What about his friends? Have any of them heard from him?” he asked, knowing Regulus trusted his friends almost more than he trusted them.
James shook his head, “I haven’t tried any of them yet, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.”
“Well,” he sagged, “As much as we might worry about him I think- I think it should be…fine?” He said with a touch more strength than he felt. “Reg isn’t dumb and he knew he couldn’t just run away with no one asking questions. He’s probably out doing…something.”
He was dancing around the subject of Voldemort because it was truly the only thing that made a bit of sense.
He hadn’t seen Mulciber, Yaxley, Snape, or any of his other peers-turned-Death eaters since they left school despite the fact that they pretty much lived in the exact same spaces- the Wizarding World wasn’t that big. They were constantly off wreaking havoc while popping into The White Wyvern for a drink and escaping again before they could be apprehended.
He didn’t think it was entirely implausible for Regulus to be out doing something along those lines but now that he knew Regulus had gone off the grid completely, cutting them off as well, he knew he’d have to pay extra attention when out on missions or when interrogating their prisoners for a sliver on information on him till he came back.
But he knew if he didn’t hear or see anything soon, he’d have to go out on his own and find his younger brother himself because for all he claimed to be over his past, his tie to Regulus was iron-wrought, unwavering and unbreakable.
____________
“Professor McGonagall!” Barty shouted as he ran along the flagstone corridor, feet thudding against the floor and echoing off the walls.
She looked down her nose at him, “Mr. Crouch?” she asked before addressing each of them, “Rosier, Lestrange?”
Pandora smiled nervously back at her, still slightly out of breath from having to chase after Barty, exercise was not part of her daily routine but she was seriously reconsidering that now.
“We need to talk about Regulus, he hasn’t-” Evan started but she stopped him with a hand,
“Why don’t we finish this in my office,” she suggested, turning to shoot a severe look at the other students who had clearly begun snooping in their conversation. They all quickly turned their heads and continued on their way but their ears were definitely still turned here. The gossip mills at Hogwarts were relentless.
They dutifully followed her in silence along the long walk to her office, occasionally shooting each other with charged looks along the way. She was likely the most nervous out of the three of them with Regulus having not responded to a single one of her letters- something he hadn’t done in years to her.
Pandora knew that she had hurt Regulus ever since finding out about the mark. She knew he never wanted it and was forced into it but just looking at it, knowing what rested under his sleeve reminded her so starkly of her brothers that she couldn’t handle the mere idea of it.
She forced herself to reconcile the Regulus she had first met all those years ago with the boy she knew now and while he was the same in so many ways, he had also changed- he was darker, sadder, and more tragic than before. Before he was angsty and moody at worst but long gone were those days of teenage struggles.
And now, when she had worked on fixing her mindset for Regulus’ sake, he had disappeared and while it wasn’t her fault exactly, she still felt guilty.
She had always been Regulus’ safe space. He came to her first after that incident at the Lake and had moved in with her for the better part of a year, he had come to her first when he received the mark, and had even come to her whenever he fought with James or even Sirius later on. He had always confided in her but now she was only receiving silence in return to her letters. She must’ve deserved it for shattering the glass box they often locked themselves in to hide from the world.
When they finally arrived at McGonagall's office, she sat down in her chair, took her glasses off, and steepled her fingers together. “It’s clear that he hasn’t spoken to any of you then.”
They each vehemently shook their heads. Barty was nearly in tears- he’s been a nervous wreck since Regulus left and had only barely contained his fear for this long. He was on the verge of a breakdown in his dorm today and that had been the wakeup call for all of them to go to McGonagall. They might’ve gone to Dumbledore but Regulus hated him so she was their next best option to get some answers.
“I received a missive from his mother this morning. She has decided to officially unenroll Mr. Black from Hogwarts. He will continue his formal education via a governess before entering a job in the Ministry for which he has already been accepted into.”
“What!” Evan nearly shouted uncharacteristically a moment later.
She nodded deeply, “I admit, I too was…surprised at this turn of events but the form has her signature, Regulus’, as well as the Ministry department head’s. It’s been verified twice over and entered into our records. I’m afraid nothing more can be done at this stage.” Despite her calm tone, she didn’t seem calm in the way her face was set and hands were strained.
“But that’s impossible, he would never just leave. Can’t you call him in or something? Ask him what he wants? His mother is crazy she-,” Barty cried out.
“Mr. Crouch, I’m afraid you’re speaking to the wrong person about this. He is legally an adult and he signed the form with his own hand. There is nothing, on my end, that I can do to bring him back,” she sighed.
“So you’re giving up on him then?” he fumed, his face slowly turning red.
She seemed affronted at that, “I’m not-.”
“No, Professor, I’m sorry, but this is bullshite! His mother is mad, why do you think Sirius ran away? And now Regulus just disappeared off the face of the planet, not responding to anybody and suddenly drops out of school and it’s fine? You don’t think that warrants a second thought? For all we know he’s dead and someone just used his hand to sign that piece of shite form!” He was standing now and the silence in the room was deafening after that tirade.
The wizened professor’s lips thinned and nostrils flared and Pandora prepared for a fierce rebuttal, already shrinking back in her chair but then she just loosed a breath and reached down somewhere at her side. When her hand came back into view, she saw that she was holding a biscuit tin.
She pulled back the cover with a ting and offered one to each of them.
Once they were sufficiently quieted, dropping crumbs all over her carpet, she spoke, “I understand your worries. Truly, I do. I am not blind to what it is like for Regulus just as it is for many Slytherins from a similar background. Year after year I have had students like him, I’ve had Blacks like him, who all share a similar past and likely future. While Regulus’ sudden departure from Hogwarts was surprising, I can’t do anything more. I’ve brought this up to the Headmaster and he agreed that this is final. As for your personal matters with Regulus, well, I can only hope you receive a response from him soon.”
They all nodded, knowing that this was a pointless battle.
Sadly and slowly, they each got up to leave but at the door, the professor spoke, “Oh and Mr. Crouch?”
“Yes professor?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his nose and brushing crumbs off his jumper.
“A week's detention and twenty points from Slytherin,” she said flatly with a raised brow.
“That’s fair,” he mumbled before finally leaving.
__________
“The potion…oh,” he wailed, “Kreacher couldn’t take it but the dark Lord forced him and Master Regulus told Kreacher he mustn’t disobey him.”
He was shaking with barely contained rage at the sheer audacity of Voldemort for having disrespected him, his elf, practically his whole being.
Kreacher painfully regaled everything that had transpired between him and the dark Lord from his initial arrival to which he had been painfully beaten and broken to when he grabbed Kreacher by the arm and apparated them away to some cave in the middle of the ocean to a boat ride across a murky lake infested with Inferi. Voldemort had gone to such insane lengths to hide a locket in a basin of some poisonous potion that Regulus couldn’t possibly decipher.
He did dozens of tests on it, trying to pull apart the ingredients or determine its exact effects on someone that consumes it but they all came up blank, unable to read the ingredients or whatever spell had been interlaced into it.
It’d been five days since Kreacher came back and four since he unenrolled from school, a drastic measure he knew, but a necessary one.
And here now, he had Kreacher telling him the entire story over just so he could make sure he hadn’t missed anything and could comb through every painstaking detail again in his mind.
“And the rat! Oh Kreacher asked the dark Lord to kill it but he refused. Kreacher only wanted to clean-” he started but at that, Regulus leaned forward and interrupted him,
“What rat?” He didn’t remember hearing this, or perhaps he just brushed over it when Kreacher told this story before.“When we were in the dark Lord’s home, Kreacher saw a rat. After the dark Lord ordered Kreacher to leave it alone, Kreacher did. But the Lord did not know Kreacher could see through the magic he could,” he pointed out with a shake of the head as he hobbled in front of him.
Ever since that night, Kreacher had been unable to walk straight, having a permanent slanting sort of gait that caused one foot to be heavier and more unstable than the other. It served to make the elf appear even more haggard and buried down than before.
“What magic?” he bit out slowly trying to pick up the pieces of his brain that kept falling apart every time he focused on a new detail.
The elf looked up at him with big eyes and a cocked head, “Kreacher saw that the rat was an animagus.”
He ran through his mind wondering who this could be but drew a blank. He didn’t even know any of his former classmates that had joined Voldemort could be animagi considering how arduous the process was. He could barely process the fact that James, Sirius, and Peter were animagi, Remus too though he was a bit of a special case technically speaking.
“Thank you for telling me Kreacher but I really need you to tell me about the locket, what did it look like? Was there anything in it?” he urged, trying to avoid the extraneous and inexplicable right now after having been taken off track too many times already.
It ended up being that Kreacher let him into his mind to take a glimpse at the locket, the exact time being right before they left on their mission which is when Kreacher managed to get a clear look at it. It was an octagonal locket that hung at the centre of a thick silver chain that was inlaid with an amber coloured diamond with a snake motif embedded into it. It was horrifically beautiful.
Kreacher told him about the dark magic emanating from it, how deeply it had scared him and how passionately the dark Lord held and caressed it.
Regulus could see how much he cared for that locket from the sheer amount of traps and failsafes he had gone through establishing just to make sure no one ever found it. It was clearly a horcrux and Voldemort was certainly counting on Kreacher dying with his secret in that cave.
It was an oversight on his part and an advantage Regulus was sure to pounce on.
___________
He cursed as he paced the length of his room with the owl was staring at him, its’ beady eyes boring a hole into the side of his head,
“What!” he wanted to shout at it. He pointed again at the entire bag of treats laid right by its feet but the damn owl wouldn’t go away. He was about two minutes away from incinerating it.
It ruffled its feathers and scratched at the wooden sill under its feet. The letter hanging from his leg still dangling, waiting for him to pick it back up.
He read each and every single letter he got, burning curiosity forcing him to, but in the same breadth, he hadn’t responded to a single one and the guilt was starting to build up.
He was fine to not respond to anyone but the same sentiment didn’t go the other way. It was objectively wrong to not respond to anyone, yes, but his mind was so chaotic these days he wasn’t sure he could think to prioritise those relationships right now.
He had begun to realise, belatedly, that he was on the cusp on something, his toes just barely off the precipice of what was to come.
All of his research, his inquiries, his plotting and planning- these weren’t the actions of those around him, this wasn’t what someone ‘devoted to the cause’ would do.
He’d conclusively figured out what a horcrux was and that Voldemort had made multiple to ensure immortality. He’d dropped out of school to devote all of his time to this. He’d decided that what Voldemort had done to the Potters and Kreacher was too far beyond the realm of understanding and that he wanted to take him down.
He’d agreed to defying the dark Lord and…dying? He hadn’t thought that far yet because there was just so much to do until then because what good did dying do if he didn’t get anything done first?
But before he could do anything, he needed to get his business with his friends sorted before they sent bloody Aurors after him thinking he’d gotten kidnapped.
He wrote a reply to James and sent the owl off, slamming the window shut behind him just so he knew how annoyed he was. He then penned a quick note to Barty, Evan, and Pandora, using his own owl to send those off and he cursed when he saw the clock and saw that he was late.
Grabbing his cloak, he apparated straight to Place Cachée. His apparition skills had gotten much better in recent history, enabling him to apparate farther and farther each time. Of course it wasn’t perfect and he doubted he’d ever be able to apparate across oceans or entire continents but he could manage it between close countries.
He didn’t spare any time to look around and enjoy the scenery of the French equivalent to Diagon Alley like he normally would as went straight to the small jewellery shop at the end of the first street corner, a store his family has held ties with for generations.
The store was sparsely populated, a lone woman on one side, a nervous man at the other, and he went onward to the shop owner who was waiting for him at the back. When he approached, the man tipped his head, “Mr. Black,” he greeted, shaking his hand firmly before offering him a beverage.
“Not today,” he replied before being led into a hidden room in the back.
The luxurious room was meant only for the most elite customers and it was evident by the velvet settees, the crystal chandeliers, and the glass cases lining the walls with the most extravagant pieces of jewellery he’d ever seen. It was a taste of luxury unparalleled by any others and it was just one of the reasons the Blacks had preferred to work with this jeweller over any other.
The man, tall and thin, wearing a set of royal blue robes, sat across from him, his lips curled up in a smile under a light dashing of stubble and spoke, “I was wondering when I would be seeing you next, have you finally found the one?”
Yes well, he had but he didn’t think this was the time or place to speak his truthso he easily clarified, “Not quite yet Galos.”
“Then to what do I owe the pleasure,” he asked, picking up a small journal he often used to jot down notes when discussing new sets. He’d come here before when he was younger, often with Sirius, when his mother would commission new pieces for herself and others. He never knew he’d one day come in here alone with an objective quite like this.
“I’d like to see if you could make me a replica of this,” he asked, pulling a sheet of parchment from his breast pocket.
He wasn’t much of a drawer, evident by the forever-blue blank canvas in his room, but having stared at the locket dozens of times in Kreacher’s memory, he had managed to create a good enough sketch of it. He wished he could just get the real thing but that was dumb for a million and one reasons right now.
Galos leaned back in his seat as he studied the drawing, “And how big is this?”
“About the size of my palm,” he answered nervously, desperately hoping he agreed to this.
Advantages of having a family jeweller was not just guaranteed quality and original pieces but it also granted secrecy. Jewellers knew what pieces were made for who, why, and what they might mean. He could commission a ring for his mistress or a bracelet to gain another’s favour and no one would know.
He trusted that Galos wouldn’t let this slip to anyone either, having been in this business for generations as well.
“I must admit Mr. Black, I haven't seen a piece of this fashion in centuries,” he huffed, rubbing at the skin along his jaw, Regulus could practically see the cogs spinning in his mind. “May I ask where this is from?”
“All I know is that this was fashioned sometime in the 10th century perhaps. I saw the locket in an old book of mine and wanted to have one made for myself as the original one disappeared over time,” he said, attempting to sound unsure and curious. He’d actually deduced that it was Slytherin’s locket via Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem- a pattern that was slowly beginning to appear but he couldn’t let that slip.
He made a noncommittal humming noise before setting the parchment aside, “I vow to try my best Sir. I can see the importance of this piece to you so I’ll send you updates as I make the piece to ensure your complete approval.”
Regulus stood up to shake the man’s hand, “Thank you Galos, truly. My last request is that you keep this between us, yes?”
Galos placed a firm hand over his heart, “As always Mr. Black.”
________
“Cissy,” he smiled as he entered through the front door, hugging his cousin and giving her a kiss on each cheek.
“Come in,” she replied cheerily, ushering him in with waved hands before turning on her heel and leading them to what was presumably her tea room.
He hadn’t expected such warmth at his arrival but was pleased nonetheless.
Her elf had popped in with a tray just as they sat down on a pair of plush armchairs. The room was decorated in shades of light blues and silvers with the occasional lavender piece to break it up and it was all so perfect that it looked like it was straight out of a magazine catalogue.
“I was surprised by your invite for tea,” she chimed in as she situated herself on the chair- leaning back, leaning forward, moving the small decorative pillow to her left, to her right, before finally leaving it behind her as it originally was- she seemed to be in a bit of a tizzy.
“Yes well, it’s been a while and so much has changed recently, I just thought it might be nice,” he said casually as he added a bit of milk into his tea. He began readying Narcissa’s as well, drizzling honey into the amber coloured liquid and watching it melt and blend away before adding a dash of milk.
“I do agree, much has changed,” she said as she gratefully accepted the tea from him.
“Would you like to go first?,” he laughed a bit, happy to see her like this.
“Well, I’ll just come out and say it then…” she waited for a dramatic pause, “I’m pregnant!”
Her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink as her eyes sparkled as he immediately moved forward to hug her. It was only then that he could feel a slight bump under her dress and he was delighted for her. He knew how hard these past couple of years were for her having carried and miscarried but her glow now had to be a good sign.
“Oh my gods, congratulations,” he smiled at her, still holding her hands, “How far along are you? I can’t believe I didn’t know.”
“I'll be three months tomorrow,” she grinned. “The healers say it’ll be a girl. I know that Lucius doesn’t want one but I-.”
He shook his head, disregarding whatever Lucius said about that, “Who cares as long as the baby’s healthy and happy yeah? Congratulations, truly.”
She nodded shakily at him and sat back in her seat, “Ugh,” she groaned, fanning at her eyes to calm down and stave back the tears, “Alright, now tell me your news.”
He did as told, admittedly in a very cut down version of the truth, telling her how the dark Lord had paid him a visit and how he was now unenrolled from school in order to devote more time to his cause. However, he did express his displeasure at this to ensure she knew that he wasn’t happy to be a part of this and to make sure she didn’t go about bringing this up to anyone else.
She listened intently to his whole tirade, adding commentary when necessary, and at the end, she suggested that he come take a look at the nursery.
“It was previously decorated like a boy’s nursery but I’ve already started making some changes,” she said easily as they walked up the expansive staircase.
He hummed along, thinking about how exactly he’d be able to go about his plan without raising any alarms. He already knew this was risky but he especially didn’t want to bring any concerns to Narcissa knowing what he now knew.
The nursery was light and airy, probably one of the least depressing rooms in this entire mansion, with large open windows and a high ceiling. There was a small crib off to the side, a rocking chair, and a little playpen already set up by the far wall. A small shelf had picture frames full of pictures of Cissy and Lucius as well as a few with Bellatrix and him. He wasn’t sure whether or not she realised but Sirius was in the background of a lot of them, just enough to notice but not enough to point out and fuss about. The walls were still a pale shade of blue but a stripping charm should be able to remove that easily enough.
“It’s beautiful,” he said earnestly after his once over.
“Isn’t it?” she asked dreamily.
“Have you thought of a name yet? I know it’s early but-.”
“Rhea,” she said quickly, “I think it’d be fitting.”
“Me too,” he agreed easily. Growing up he always thought his name was a bit…much, but he’d grown to appreciate the dedication to the celestial theme the Blacks held and was happy Narcissa felt confident enough to continue with it in the face of whatever the Malfoy’s might’ve wanted.
He knew he’d be much warmer to a baby Rhea than a baby Lucius’a.
After a lengthy conversation about fabrics and paint shades, she took him up to the Library to show him a special edition collection of books she had just received and he was starting to lose steam. He loved his cousin but he had come here with a distinct purpose and with each minute that ticked by, he was starting to lose more and more faith in his plan.
“Where’s Lucius,” he questioned as he followed her down the corridor, ignoring the serious faces of Lucius’ ancestors in the painted portraits on the walls.
She made a noise of displeasure, “Off doing whatever it is he does. I don’t ask and don’t give him a chance to tell me, no matter how much he may try to.” A very clear indication she didn’t care to speak of it anymore and he dropped it, just happy knowing he wouldn’t have to actually factor accidentally running into Lucius into all of this.
Their library was impressive for the sheer aesthetics alone. It was cavernous with carved dark wood panelling running up the walls curving up into the arched ceilings. Skylights broke up the darkness of the space, creating little pockets of warm light all throughout the space and illuminating the seemingly infinite rows of books. There was a sitting area off to the side circled around a fireplace as well as a staircase in the back that led up to a small alcove with additional books and shelves.
The minute he stepped across the boundary of the room, he heard a vague buzzing noise, like there was a fly or gnat constantly buzzing about his head. He swatted the air a few times before he realised this had to be a psychological issue for the noise intensified the deeper into the shelves he got and Narcissa didn't mention it despite the fact that it was about to make him go mad. When his chest thrummed and magic pulled, he knew instantly that he was in the right place.
He couldn’t even hear Narcissa as she rattled on about the shelf of books in front of him- he just kept sneaking glances all around them, trying and failing to find that bloody journal. He wished Bellatrix had gone into more detail about it but she was blackout drunk the few times she did mention it and he hadn’t thought to press further considering her feelings about it.
When she finished, she said, “I’ll get us a snack, wait here,” before whisking away.
The minute she was out of view, he turned on his heel and followed the incessant noise. It was like he was some sort of beacon to these horcruxes as they called out to him whenever he came near. Perhaps they could sense his charred soul and called out to the darkness within him.
Whatever it was, he didn’t care because he found it quickly enough, tucked into a shelf at the bottom of a bookcase in the back. The leather bound journal was unassuming, no title or cover beyond a small metal piece on the edge of the cover and he knew right because the noise was intolerable as he made eye contact with it.
He knelt down and grabbed ahold of it and all at once the noise stopped. He loosed a relieved breath and felt his pulse slow, before it slammed into him all over again and he gasped as he dropped the book, bringing his hands up to clutch at his head. He grunted, clenching his jaw as he forced himself to keep calm.
He systematically breathed and and grounded his feet to force his nervous system to stop firing and ever so slowly, the painful sensation ebbed away. He closed his eyes for a moment, cursing everything and everyone, before he scooped up the book, tucked into his pocket, and stood, readjusting his robes and smoothing his hair.
“Regulus?” he heard her call out and she went to meet him. “Look what I’ve got! I ordered these macaroons weeks ago and they’ve just come in, they’re absolutely divine. Would you like one?”
“I’d love one,” he smiled cheerily to her, picking a raspberry one and popping it into his mouth. He couldn’t help but feel it tasted like victory.
___________
He reread the letter at least five times before he put it down and rubbed at his temples.
James was upset, he was more than upset, and this letter proved it and he didn’t even know why he was surprised as it was totally within his rights to be upset at him.
James hid it well, he used gentle words and said how he was ‘a bit upset’ of being out of the loop of his plans and how he ‘really wished’ Regulus considered how he might feel and how he just ‘wished he let him in.’ It was all kind enough but he knew James was hurt but just as he always did, he didn’t want to hurt Regulus’ feelings or make any accusations. Even if he was in pain, he never wanted anyone else to feel that either, it seemed to go against his nature.
Regulus was a horrible boyfriend and this only proved to further cement that.
The victory of getting the diary a week ago quickly turned sour after reading this letter and he knew he needed to see James as soon as possible.
He decided he’d go early tomorrow morning but right now, he needed a Dreamless Sleep to get through the night because he had burnt through the last of his energy by now and he couldn’t stand to process a single additional thought right now or go to bed with the possibility of a nightmare attacking him and waking him up in the wee hours of the morning.
He knew his stores were empty and it was too late to go out and buy any so he trudged down the stairs to the Potions lab where he might quickly brew some more. Dreamless Sleep wasn't incredibly difficult to brew by any means but he just wasn’t in the mood to make it. However, his necessity outweighed his comfort at the moment and he didn’t want to bother Kreacher right now either.
Hastily lighting the sconces in the dim room, he vanished the leftover contents of the nearest and began filling it with everything needed for Dreamless Sleep.
He lit the fire under the cauldron, watching the yellow flames lick up the sides of the bowl, and mechanically began adding everything he needed into it, adding a quick acceleration charm to speed things up just that bit more. The room quickly began to smell of lavender, the sweet scent washing over and calming him down but he soon realised he couldn’t find the wormwood needed to finish the potion off. It wasn’t anywhere on the usual ingredients shelf in front of him and it was unlikely they’d run out of it as Kreacher performed routine checks down here.
He turned to the ingredients cabinet where they kept the less commonly used ingredients and scanned the shelves one by one, reading each and every labelled bottle. He began shuffling things around and accidentally dropped a jar that ended up shattering once it hit the floor.
He cursed and immediately moved to scoop the contents back up before eventually just vanishing it all together. It was only a bit of butterfly wings though, easily bought, and he stood back up to straighten the rest of the bottles lest they all fall too; however when he took a closer look, he noticed something odd.
There was a small glass bottle, barely larger than the size of his index finger, tucked in at the very back of the cabinet out of view. He pulled it out to get a closer look at it and the wrinkled and faded label read ‘Manchakuy saphi.’
His mind whirred like a codex but the name was unfamiliar to him. He couldn’t even place the language so he pulled out his wand and cast a quick translating charm on it.
The spell hung in the air for a bit before the letters scrambled and reorganised into English- Dread Root.
He had to put a hand on a nearby table to keep himself upright. He’d only ever heard of this plant growing in the harsh conditions of the mountains of South America. It was highly venomous and toxic, so dangerous that even being near it could have devastating consequences. There was barely any wizarding literature about it because of its effects and he only knew about the existence of this plant because he had gone snooping in the darkest types of books for the dark Lord.
To even have it in his home was unthinkable.
“Kreacher!” he called out, forgoing his idea about not wanting to bother him as he needed answers now.
He appeared a moment later and Regulus quickly pushed the vial at him, “Where did this come from?”
He inspected it in his small hands for a moment before croaking, “Kreacher is not to be telling Master Regulus.” At his reaction, Kreacher began shying and cringing away from him, rapidly becoming upset at his own disappointment as elves were prone to do when their masters were displeased.
“Kreacher calm down, just- who gave you those orders?” he asked desperately but there was only one person aside from him who could command him around.
“Mistress Black,” he forced out as he pulled at his ears as though the magic was choking him whenever he got close to revealing more.
“Why is it here? Did she ever use it?” he asked, trying to dance around the answer. Again, others underestimated house-elves, especially older ones like Kreacher who knew how simple it was to bend the truth while still technically obeying orders.
“Mistress used it once before in a tea. She ordered Kreacher to hide it so he put it in the ingredients cabinet where no one would be finding it,” he answered honestly but he was stepping foot-to-foot, clearly wanting to say more.
“Okay,” was all he said before returning to his potion, finally finding and adding the wormwood to the bubbling mixture and he watched as it slowly turned a deep glimmering shade of purple. The surface had a reflective sheen to it and he watched his own haunted face stare back up at him. He quickly shut the flames with a wave of his hand before bracing it calmly on the table.
Kreacher remained behind him so he explicitly said over his shoulder, “That was all Kreacher, than you.”
Silence reigned for a moment before, “She used it in a tea for Master Orion.”
He froze before stiffly adding, “Thank you Kreacher,” and he vanished with a slight pop. Only when he left did he sag a bit and let his true feelings be known as he cursed and stared at the small vial.
He immediately knew what Kreacher was implying, he’d be stupid not to, but it simply wasn’t computing in his mind.
“But that’s impossible” he muttered to himself, gripping at his hair, “He died from a-” his voice thinned because actually… he didn’t know. He had no idea what happened, neither had any of the Healers or medi witches or wizards that had come to treat him. They all treated it as some sort of mysterious illness that he eventually succumbed to too soon and by then, there was no point in looking into it any further.
If his mum had ‘used it in a tea’ then surely it was what had killed him, there was no possible doubt about it. If even being near it could cause some averse symptoms then ingesting it must’ve been like walking into your own grave, or in this case he was pushed in by his mother. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as he grappled at the buttons on his collar, pulling them loose.
He and his father didn’t have a typical father-son relationship but it was something and while they were generally impartial with each other, every once in a while they found a slight pocket of warmth where the two of them might just brush past each other with a kind word or look. It was certainly far more than anything he’d ever shared with his mum.
And in his final moments of life, when he’d gone up to France to spend time with him, he’d shared more words with him than ever before and he was surprised that he’d enjoyed it. He’d learned about his father, gained some insight into the man he was, and they’d made plans together. He’d ended up dying the same day anyways, a bitter disappointment he still wasn’t over.
To know that she had…killed him? Gods, it was incomprehensible.
Anger, fresh and red-hot, burned through him and he cast a protective bubble around the vial before snatching it up and stomping back up the stairs.
He found his mother in one of the parlours, penning some sort of letter at the desk in the corner and at his arrival, she turned around to look at him with a sour expression, “Regulus.”
“What’s this,” he spit out, placing the vial carefully on the desk space between them. The bubble popped and vanished and she leaned down only briefly to look at it before her eyes widened.
“Where did you get that?” she erupted as she pushed her chair back and stood up to put space between them. Her ink pot tipped over with the movement rendering her letter completely ruined but she didn’t seem to care as her grey eyes were locked onto his.
“That’s something I should be asking you,” he retorted angrily.
He didn’t know why he was so mad. Or perhaps he did. His mind was whirling with the unfairness of it all and he was mad at himself for having not realised it sooner but most of all, he was consumed with guilt because he should’ve cared more. He should’ve asked more questions. He should’ve done something more than going to France and sharing a vague and meaningless conversation with his father before he’d gone and died. Even after he passed, he didn’t spare it another thought.
He’d marvelled endlessly at the relationship James shared with his parents but he’d never considered that maybe he should act more like James- James who would never have accepted an ‘I don’t know’ if his parents had mysteriously fallen sick like he did.
His father was absent and rarely made an effort to be in his or Sirius’ lives but he’d never actively hurt him and he was a victim himself in many ways. To think he’d died a victim too was just shameful, he couldn’t imagine the pain he must have been in. Should he have made more of an effort to create a bond now that he was older? Perhaps with his position as heir and Sirius completely gone they could have gotten closer?
It didn’t matter because he’d never get that chance because of the woman in front of him.
“You’ve grown insolent since having a taste of freedom, you know that? Snooping in my things, going in and out of the house as you please. Do not mistake my recent pardons for freedom for I can take that back in a second,” she hissed, her black taloned fingers gripping the chair she was just in, the fabric pulling and straining under the pressure.
“I didn’t snoop in your things, you’re just not as smart as you think you are,” he spat, sounding just like her.
Her face turned a deep shade of red as her beady eyes narrowed, “What did you say?” she asked as she advanced closer, her heels clicking on the wood floor between them.
His anger was making his tongue loose, “You heard me. What did you use the dread root for?”
“None of your business boy.”
“You gave it to dad, didn't you?” he tone more a declaration than question as he straightened his chin, refusing to move back another step even as she got closer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stood so close to her.
She jerked and pulled her wand out from where it was tucked under the black lace of her dress by her arm. She wasn’t quite pointing it at him yet but the threat of it was clear enough. She was clearly upset, not from what she’d done, but for having been caught.
“You don’t scare me anymore,” he said bravely, a wave of courage taking over him and releasing the words that had been brewing deep within him for quite some time. He’d only ever said these words to her in his darkest dreams, a small pleasure he allowed himself to visit, if he wasn’t feeling everything so viscerally, he might have thought he was sleeping. He could never have imagined himself to run his mouth around her when he was younger, especially not in this very harsh Sirius-like manner.
“I should, perhaps you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be punished,” she hissed, digging her wand into his neck painfully prodding between the tendons there.
“Why did you do it?” he redirected, tired of empty threats and wanting facts, it was why he’d come up here instead of just directly leaving anyways so he didn’t want to waste any more unnecessary time. “What the hell did he do to you?”
“He was weak and I don’t tolerate weakness,” she grit out, “I thought you knew that by now.”
“But you-” he felt like he was going mad, “You lived with him for decades! What changed?” From what he knew, his parents shared no love for eachother and to kill someone was to actually care about their existence. He remembered how she’d spiralled after his death and always thought it was borne out of some insanity after losing her tether but perhaps it was just her own madness consuming her.
“You,” she squawked, finally stepping back and allowing him a chance to rub at the spot on his neck. She circled him once before continuing, “He refused to allow you to get the dark mark. Everytime I brought it up he refused me and as his wife, I had no choice but to listen. I was not going to let him allow our great house to fall in the ranks due to his own sentimentality. So yes I killed him and I thought Bellatrix had beat the softness out of you but it seems I was wrong.”
His eyes burned painfully but he didn’t allow them to well up and allow her to see how she’d affected him so strongly. He couldn’t verify what she was saying, it could very well be a lie, but the mere thought that maybe someone had been on his side, that someone wanted to protect him from the mark still scarred on his arm was enough to weaken his resolve.
“You’re evil,” he shook his head as he stared at her. Her face so similar to his own, her words as destructive as the poison on the table. She was a snake and the way she stared at him now with narrow slits made it seem as though he was her prey tonight.
“I did my duty to my house,” she corrected. “Do not ruin all the work you’ve done by nostalgia and pathos for a man that did not care more for you than he did his drink.”
“What is duty if you’re a monster?” he burst out, throwing a hand out and genuinely asking her.
“Duty does not care whether you are a monster or a saint. Duty does not care about your feelings. It is an obligation that you must fulfil.” He thought she was done with this and he opened his mouth to speak but she continued, “It’s not like you have the Potters to run to anymore now do you?” she sneered with a sick smirk.
That had done it for him.
It was as though the one thread holding onto his sanity had snapped and he pushed her away from him, her bony shoulder hard under his hand. He pulled his wand out of his own sleeve and levelled it at her, his blood was roaring in his ears and he felt like his entire body was on fire as blood rushed to the surface.
“Gods, Regulus, get it-” she started.
“Shut up!” he shouted. “Just shut up!”
At this she actually did, her mouth snapping shut while still staring in disbelief at him. “Don’t you ever say their name again,” he snarled.
For once, she remained quiet.
He gave her one last hateful look before turning away and walking right out the front door and slamming it shut behind him. He walked straight out onto the pavement away from the house and only when it was out of view did he finally stop and take a breath.
He looked up and saw that it was a full moon tonight as pure white light highlighted his surroundings far more than the weak and yellowing lamplights lining the street could. The streets were barren and he didn’t know what time it was or where to go now.
It wasn’t like he could go down to his dorm in the dungeons or up to Pandora’s dorm in Ravenclaw tower. He couldn’t go to James or Sirius now, only appearing in his moment of need after ignoring their letters for weeks now.
With a final look up, he refocused on the street ahead of him and kept walking, feeling the cool night air and stillness of his surroundings ground him because for once, he was untethered and his mind was empty. For once, he could just enjoy the quiet instead of wondering how he could fill it with the dozens of other things going on right now.
The sun climbed higher in the sky as he walked and he seemed to snap out of his trance somewhere around the time the sky had turned from a watery grey to a light orange shade. He was belly deep in the city he had lived in his whole life yet never discovered and his surroundings had gone from absolutely nobody to men jogging past and women talking into little boxes by their ears.
He slid into an alley to prepare to apparate and jumped when a rat scurried by his feet and he was struck by the memory of Kreacher talking about that rat animagus. Obviously this one wasn’t but he couldn’t help but feel a bit spooked by it.
He shut his eyes, turned on his heel, and felt the familiar pull of apparition take him away from this dreaded place.