he'll never forgive you
Trudging up the muddy path to Hogwarts, a sense of nostalgia washed up over him, cool and sweet, acting as a balm to his burned and frayed edges. It was the bending willows and familiar trail that helped steel him for the rest of the journey up to the school proper from Hogsmeade. The footprints of students rushing into the village just a couple days prior had already started to disappear under a light smattering of fresh snow.
He quickly glanced up and saw that the sun was already past its midpoint in the sky and was rapidly making its way down to the horizon now. He’d been dragging his feet for quite some time now trying to delay what he was about to do and pretend, for just a little while longer, that he was still just a student coming back from a fun day out, but he just breathed deeply before picking up the speed because fairytales never lasted.
When he finally reached the castle, he walked around the edge of the building before slipping into one of the many courtyards. It was abandoned but a quick peek around the corner of an entrance into the main corridor showed some people lingering around so he cast a quick disillusionment charm and walked right on in.
Most students were already gone for the holiday, having already taken the morning train, but some stayed behind in favour of the evening train or they just wanted to stay on campus like he had once before for the holiday. Most seventh years opted for the latter option to stay behind and study but he knew none of his friends remained here, already forced on the morning train home by their parents like usual.
He sidestepped most people and quickly dashed past professors though there was no real reason as they couldn’t see him.
He made the long trek down to the dungeons and paused when he was outside the Potions classroom. There, after checking his surroundings, he dropped the disillusionment and unhooked his silver mask from his belt.
When he slipped it on over his head, he had to control his breathing for a second and get used to the snug fitting as it pulled uncomfortably at his skin. It was claustrophobic and the small slits barely allowed for any air to flow in or out but it was enough to stay alive and that was all he needed- he couldn’t afford comfort right now.
The door was locked so he pulled out his wand and quickly unlocked it, grasping the door handle and pushing the large wooden door open with a creak.
The classroom was abandoned but a light shone behind a door in the corner where Slughorn’s office was situated so he knew he was right on time. He locked the door behind him and advanced on light feet towards his office, careful not to jostle any desks or chairs and give himself away too early. Stepping forward, he tested Slughorn’s door slightly and found it mercifully unlocked.
He mentally counted one, two- on three he pushed the door open and entered, quickly sidestepping to slam the door shut behind him. He turned the lock behind his back while keeping his eyes glued to Slughorn who stared up at him in shock.
He was sitting behind his large oak desk though the surface was clear and there was a suitcase lying right by his own feet by the door. He must’ve just been preparing to get up and leave.
“Who are you?” Slughorn asked, both hands braced on the table, splayed wide, as his eyes darted around the room, likely looking for some way out of this.
Regulus faltered a bit, never having been put in this position- having this authority over his professor in what was quite literally a life or death situation. Never did he think their roles would be reversed when he was a green first year.
“Tell me everything you know about Tom Riddle,” he said in a voice much deeper than his own.
At this, his old professor’s eyes widened till Regulus could see the whites around his irises. He pointed a large finger at him, “I don’t know who you're talking about, now get out of my office” he bellowed. He stared into Regulus’ eyes and he wondered if he could see any recognition there.
Then, faster than he could ever imagine the wizened professor moving, he stood up and aimed his wand right at him.
“Petrificus Totalus!” he shouted and the spell burst quickly from his wand. Regulus managed to dodge it by darting to the right and when the spell hit the door that was just behind him, it splintered it and sent shards of wood flying.
With how Slughorn normally acted, he supposed he essentially forgot just how powerful of a wizard he was. He was an extremely proficient wizard but in his age, and through lack of need really as a Potions professor, he hadn’t been able to showcase it properly but Regulus was now getting a sneak peek at it.
He cast again, some spell he’d never heard of, and Regulus managed to evade it once more but he wouldn’t be able to hold him off for long. The office was small and he was being cornered, one good hit from Slughorn and he’d be done for, likely shipped off to Azkaban in a box labelled ‘Fragile.’
So as Slughorn prepared for another attack, Regulus desperately cast “Imperio!” It instantly took as the professor’s limbs went slack, his wand now hanging idly by his side. A cloudy glaze drifted over his eyes and a dream-like quality took over his face as a passive smile pulled at his mouth.
“Sit down,” he ordered and he did, dropping into his leather seat dazedly.
He cast binds on his hands and feet just in case and plucked his wand from his hand before shoving it into his own robes for safe keeping.
He leaned against the desk and sighed deeply.
“Tell me what you know about Tom Riddle,” he ordered in his own voice now.
He hated casting Unforgivables but he was, at his core, a hypocrite, because he wasn’t sure he would’ve ever gotten answers without it. Though he rubbed a bit at his sternum, immediately feeling a pinging sensation at having cast it so suddenly.
“Tom Riddle was my student many years ago in the 1940’s. He was an incredibly skilled wizard and showed promise not only in Potions but in all of his subjects. We took to each other rather instantly,” he finished dumbly, nodding to himself as though he had done a great job.
“Has he ever spoken to you about horcruxes?” he asked, getting straight to the point.
The whole reason he had come in here was because of the book he’d stolen from his office all that time ago when he brought Tom Riddle up to him for the first time. He knew there was a crucial link between the two of them that could help give him some answers.
“In 1943, Tom stayed after a Slug Club meeting and expressed an interest in horcruxes found in a book he had obtained in the Restricted Section. I told him that it was a dangerous question to ask but he was always rather curious so I indulged him in the topic, informing him as to what they were.”
He crossed his arms and sat into the small chair opposite his desk to ponder the words, he was in stunned disbelief that the man in front of him was partly the reason Voldemort had his immortality. Had he never indulged him, would Tom have just found a different way to discover what they were? Or would he have dropped the topic entirely?
He needed to see this directly so he leaned forward and whispered Legilimens, and spoke out loud, “Show me your memory with Tom Riddle that night.”
He easily dropped into Slughorn’s Imperius-addled mind and he countered by providing the desired memory on a silver platter. When Regulus entered it, he slowly spun in a circle as Slughorn’s office from some forty years ago unravelled around him. It felt like he was looking at the memory from inside a green bottle, the dimensions distorted and the characters taking on a green and sickly hue.
Tom Riddle was shorter than Slughorn in his young age but he stood with the imposing authority of a full fledged adult. His black hair was shorn short and his eyes were wide, hungry pools of onyx as he stood across from Slughorn and asked what exactly a horcrux was, a topic he claimed he came across in a book from the Restricted Section.
He watched fear wash over Slughorn as he hesitated and he had to stop himself from reaching out and choking his apparition when he continued talking about it.
Slughorn had already told him this part of the story so he instead eyed Tom and instantly saw the sort of darkness he held now as one of the darkest wizards in history. Even the way he asked this question, a question about some of the darkest magic in the world, he remained impassively calm.
Then he said something while facing the roaring fire that gripped his attention and brought him back to their conversation- “Can you only split the soul once? Or for instance, into seven?” His tone was posh and haughty- he was either a man that knew his superior station and acted accordingly or desperately tried to fit the role to make it seem that way.
Regulus watched in matching horror to Slughorn who stuttered out, his hand clenching tighter to the drink in his hand, “Seven? Merlin's beard Tom, isn’t it bad enough to kill one person? To rip the soul into seven pieces…,” he paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took a step closer, “this is all hypothetical right Tom?” he asked hesitantly.
Tom, fingering a ring on his hand, congenially replied “Of course Sir, this will be our little secret.” His lips curved into a smile that must have been meant to be reassuring but it served only to make dread pool low in Regulus’ belly.
The memory ended there but Regulus remained. The scene around him froze like a portrait and he was able to walk around and analyse the memory in its entirety.
He studied Tom’s face, Slughorn’s, the pictures on his desk, and the papers on top and inside his drawers. Then he went back to Tom to look at the ring he was touching.
His hand went through Tom’s when he tried to touch it but from what he could see, it was a hastily made gold band with a large diamond shaped black stone set in the centre. He leaned in closer and the face had a triangle, circle, and line, all laid atop each other inscribed in the centre of it. He was sure he’d never seen anything like it before and he knew it had to be something ancient, just like the locket.
He dived out of the memory to see Slughorn sweating a bit but he was otherwise fine, “What is that ring on Tom’s finger?”
“Tom wore that ring every day. He claimed it was an artefact once possessed by Salazar Slytherin that had been passed down through his family for generations,” he answered.
“So he cared deeply for it?” he asked though he was thinking more aloud at this point than anything else.
“Oh yes, very much so,” Slughorn nodded.
The fact that Riddle had even thought about making seven horcruxes was abhorrent. Even making one was despicable but seven…it was unlikely a soul could even remain intact after that many half-lives.
At the same time though, seven, while a magical number, was also rather hyper specific.
He counted on his fingers: Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, Tom Riddle’s diary, and Salazar Slytherin’s Locket. He had three in his possession…he couldn’t possibly find four more. At least he was led to these three by some way or another, he didn’t even know what the other four were, let alone could he guess where to find them.
He paced, still holding the three fingers out, then stopped as an idea struck him, “Horace, what token did Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff leave behind?”
“Everyone knows of Godric Gryffindor’s sword, of course, capable of defeating any beast. Helga Hufflepuff left behind her cup rumoured to possess magical abilities though no one had ever been able to discern what those were.”
He nodded. Godric Gryffindor’s sword was unlikely to be a horcrux, considering the implications surrounding that, but Hufflepuff’s cup remained in the realm of possibility.
A bell chimed somewhere outside and he knew it must be time for the evening train for all the stragglers, and professors, left behind to get out of here, so with his final question, he asked,
“Do you think Tom Riddle went on to actually make seven horcruxes?”
Slughorn, even in his state, paused to ponder the question before speaking, “I think Tom certainly possessed the capability to do so. However, seven is a taxing number and I am not so sure he has been able to make them all yet.”
He had to get out of here so he grabbed his wand again and, breathing slowly, he locked eyes with Slughorn and whispered, “Obliviate!”
Bellatrix often took him with her on missions in which they had to obliviate hordes of Ministry employees so he had experience with casting it though those were often hastily casted and he needed to be more precise this time around.
He only needed to vanish his ever being here so he warped the memory, cutting his entire existence out of his memory with surgical precision and he added in the memory of his office from beforehand, essentially creating a time loop bubble in his mind so that it seemed like nothing happened. He then pulled out Slughorn’s wand from his pocket and randomly placed it on the desk because he wasn’t exactly sure where he’d initially pulled it out from. Finally, he dropped the ties and was surprised he had managed to hold the Imperius for so long while barely even focusing on it.
Once done, he dropped all the spells on him, and fixed the bloody door he almost blew up, and escaped right as Slughorn started coming to his senses.
In the classroom, he hid behind the door to the ingredients cabinet, opposite his office, and waited for him to come out so he could check his handiwork.
Less than five minutes later, Slughorn exited his office and he seemed completely normal until he froze, and turned around the room suspiciously. He hastily went back to his office and Regulus thought he might have been caught, so he prepared to jump back out until Slughorn came back, this time with a jacket in hand- that must have been what he forgot.
He whistled all the way out of the classroom without a single memory of all the information he’d just given him.
__________
“Lemon drops,” he hissed and mercifully, he was finally granted access to Dumbledore’s office. It had only taken him going through just about the entire inventory list at Honeydukes to get it.
Dumbledore was out of office, again, an increasingly regular occurrence thanks to Order business and he had likely assumed no one would be able to get into his office as he changed the password regularly but other students weren’t quite as motivated as he was to get in.
It was all well for him because that just meant he’d have more time to try and sort through the mess that was his office. The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with random books and trinkets and awards that he couldn’t make any sense of, the labels too worn and faded from time. What couldn’t fit on the shelves went to random chairs and desks and it was a nightmare to him who always needed some semblance of organisation when it came to his items.
He glanced up to the portraits and saw that they were eyeing the entrance expectantly but thankfully, he had considered their role in this as well. They’d surely tell Dumbledore about what they saw in here when he got back so Regulus decided to remain disillusioned so he couldn’t be implicated in anything and while it made seeing his own movements amidst the chaos a bit hard, it just meant that he had to be extra careful.
He started at a large wardrobe in the right hand corner of the room and right when he pulled the door open, he was met with a pile of trinkets falling out into a heap at his feet. On another day he would’ve liked to snoop through all of it, but unfortunately, he had to move on, so he hastily threw everything back in with his wand and left the impending mess to Dumbledore should he ever actually open it again. He ended up going through three more storage cases before finally finding a filing cabinet that was stuffed with parchment tucked away in a small alcove.
He opened the middle drawer at random and saw that the files had little name tags attached to them- Nettles, K. Nott. S, Nurtle, V. He pulled out the Nurtle file at random and saw that ‘Valeria Nurtle’ had attended Hogwarts in 1879, however the ‘Nott S’ that he knew attended the school just a few years prior to him. He pulled the drawer out further and saw that it had an extension charm on it as the drawer kept giving until he was standing a few feet away. The drawer hung out comically but there must’ve been over a hundred names in a single drawer alone.
He pushed it shut, watching it roll back with a satisfying click before pulling the one under it all the way open. It must’ve contained students that attended the school for atleast the past century with the sheer amount of names and information alone.
Some files were slim while others were packed full of information. He noticed some names had been crossed out while others were amended but the alphabetization was perfect, every consonant and vowel flowing in an impeccable order.
He perused the names till finally Riddle, T. came up. He snatched up the thick file with glee and didn’t even bother to look in it. Instead, he tapped his wand against it, replicated it, and shoved it back in the drawer before pushing it closed with his hip. The parchment barely fit in the pockets of his cloak, the pages wrinkling at the edges, but with a final great shove, the fabric gave and accepted the bundle.
He was out of the office quicker than he came in and said goodbye to the school one last time before trudging back to Hogsmeade and apparating away- an unceremonious ending to a heist of unparalleled proportions.
__________
The cup, the ring (?), blank, and blank.
He scratched out the blanks with his quill before he just tore the paper apart and threw the ribbons away. Writing all of his confusion down wasn’t going to get him any closer to what he needed.
He had immense knowledge now, knowledge that put him at risk, and he was starting to feel the weight of it beyond all else.
He knew how to defeat Voldemort, he knew that these horcruxes were granting him immortality and if he just destroyed them, got rid of them somehow, that would make him mortal again- therefore taking away his confidence and power. One well aimed Avada could end everything.
A couple days ago he’d taken the journal to the isolated fields that surrounded the ruins of Abena’s house and had thrown every spell and curse and hex that he’d ever known at it and nothing had happened. He had practically created a crater in the ground but the small patch of land in the centre that held the journal was completely untouched. The only evidence that it was even there was a slight smattering of dust on the cover from the surrounding wreckage.
He still didn’t know if Voldemort could feel what he was doing either. After every spell he cast, he paused and waited for him to come down and invoke his wrath on him but he never did. It was only a minor win in the grand scheme of things.
He knew then that he could never destroy these horcruxes but he could at least gather and block off his access to them till the time came that someone smarter or more capable came along with the power to destroy them because he couldn’t just stand by and let this vicious cycle continue any more.
He couldn’t allow Voldemort to continue terrorising and killing people all the while tearing off more and more of his soul so he could live longer and longer. He’d asked Slughorn about seven but there was still a possibility of there being more- he could no longer doubt the lengths Voldemort would go to to obtain power.
There was also no length too far for his followers to go to which brought him back to the issue of Peter Pettigrew again.
The thought of him had been worrying him ever since he left James’ house. He didn’t know anything about him beyond what James or Sirius might’ve mentioned in passing and what he’d seen on his own in their time at school but he didn’t strike him as anyone, well, important.
He was rather shy and never spoke much, even in his own friend group, instead content to just be around them and watch. He was a bit shorter than the rest of them and much more plain looking, certainly compared to Remus, Sirius, and James who seemed otherworldly in greatly different senses. He was sort of a side piece, an addition, to make their group seem a bit more real and down to earth.
But was he really the type to betray them all? Highly unlikely- however, the animagi fact was certainly damning.
Anytime he wanted to give Pettigrew the benefit of the doubt, the rational part of his brain reminded him to not be emotional for then he would be biassed and more inclined to believe in his innocence despite the fact that evidence pointed towards the contrary.
A small knock sounded at his door and he walked over and opened it and saw Kreacher, looking up at him, a small plate of fruit in his hands, “For Master Regulus” he croaked, proffering the tray to him.
“I didn’t ask for any Kreacher,” he frowned, accepting it anyways.
“Master Regulus has been so good to Kreacher, Kreacher wanted to be good to his master,” he shrugged in an uncharacteristically human motion.
“You are good Kreacher,” he smiled, sitting down and setting the plate aside. "What's bothering you?"
“Kreacher is thinking he did something wrong…something to upset Master Regulus,” he trailed off slowly.
Regulus tilted his head, prompting him forward.
“It is only, since Kreacher went in service of the dark Lord, Master Regulus is being very upset. He is not being eating or sleeping,” he explained nervously, eyes darting toward the plate of fruit again.
He leaned down so that they were eye-level, “You haven’t done anything wrong, Master Regulus is just a little mad,” he explained quietly, lips quirking slightly at the end.
Once Kreacher was sufficiently appeased, he grabbed an apple off the plate before leaving it to rest in his window sill.
He spent the rest of the day watching birds flit in and out of his window, narrowly trying to get their beaks to squeeze past the iron bars his mother had put in. He watched them struggle but continue trying because every once in a while, they managed to get a taste of the sweet fruit and it reinvigorated them to keep trying. He admired their resilience.
__________
“And tonight, we celebrate the recent win at the safehouse in Wales, in which Order sympathisers were captured and brought to justice,” Voldemort spoke to the glee of those gathered around the table- or so he thought… Regulus couldn’t actually see anyone’s faces under their silver masks.
He had to admit, seeing the mask from a different perspective made it much more terrifying than he’d initially thought and he could only imagine how Slughorn felt upon seeing him storm into his office so suddenly.
The man across from him had to be Snape. A single lock of long raven hair had slipped from under his hood and Snape was the only one with hair like that. It was odd because from this distance, it could have easily been Sirius who had quite similar hair to him, if slightly less greasy.
He eyed everyone else sat at the long oak table in Bellatrix’s dining room and wondered if any of them were Peter or some other traitor he hadn’t considered. He wished Barty and Evan were here with him for some sort of moral support but neither of them had done much for Voldemort in recent times so they hadn’t been invited to this ‘inner-inner circle’ meeting it would seem.
He still wondered how Voldemort constructed his hierarchy, how he decided who to keep close and who to demote to a lowly henchman. He was certainly among the smartest at the table but there were others with nothing in their heads at all, all of their power laying in brute strength. It was a diverse mix of people but long-held loyalty seemed to be the common factor among each of them, for the most part.
Once Voldemort was done speaking, crystal glasses popped up on the table in front of them and house elves came by to slowly fill each cup full of garnet-coloured wine.
“Now, a toast, to those of us who have chosen the right side,” he said, holding his cup out and peeling his thin lips back to grin widely.
Everyone muttered and chuckled in agreement, grasping their cups and nodding their heads emphatically to show their approval under the mask and Regulus joined them in nodding for show but remained silent. He had just brought his hand up to his mask, readying to slip it off, when he noticed that the dark Lord had not yet taken a sip.
Then he spoke again, “Say, Burke, I admit, I am a bit confused as to why your cup is raised?” He said peering to the left hand side of the table opposite Regulus. He didn’t know how Voldemort knew exactly where he sat but based on his eyeline, Burke must be somewhere between the middle and end of the long table.
Everyone turned their head and Regulus tried to decipher who it was when he heard, “My Lord?” Regulus managed to find him because his hand was the only one shaking, the wine sloshing a bit in the glass.
“Well I said I wanted to raise a glass to those of us who had allied themselves correctly, but you haven’t, have you?” he hummed, tilting his head in faux confusion.
Suddenly, the chair was pulled out from under Burke and it hit the wall behind him with a thud. Burke fell to the floor but he quickly scrambled up, hoisting himself up by gripping the table with white knuckles, “Of course I have my Lord, I only-”
Voldemort raised a single skeletal hand to stop him, “Must you lie as well?” Regulus eyed the hand and noticed he wasn’t wearing his prized possession anymore and he wasn’t sure whether that made him feel better or worse because while it would be easier to get, he hadn’t an idea as to where to start looking for it.
At this, Burke had nothing to say, he just stuttered like a fish that had suddenly been pulled out of the water, making incoherent noises. Then, stupidly, he turned and started running.
A jet of purple light hit him square in the back, immobilising him as he fell to the floor right in the doorway. His mask slipped off and landed just a few feet from his body, a crack breaking out over the left side.
Everybody froze at that and watched as his body was levitated back to hover over the table, right at eye level.
His neck was still mobile and he looked from his left to his right, “Avery!” he snivelled before turning the other way, “Mulciber, is that you?” he whimpered, his arms crossed over his chest in an act that was much like he was dead already.
Neither of his friends replied to his pleas. Everyone remained deathly still, even Bella who usually couldn’t contain her energy didn’t move a single finger, her hands resting completely flat against the table. He kept his hands on his knees and had to force himself to breath but even that action felt like too much.
“I would like to show you all what happens when you betray your brothers and sisters. As it would turn out, Burke here has betrayed all of us” Voldemort pushed out forcefully and mutters of disapproval followed and broke out across the table. “He was caught leaving a meeting with Auror Alastor Moody and Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. Upon Veritaserum, it was found that he had gone to them begging to join the Order and on his person, a list of names was found!”
Everyone around him started yelling out in anger, cursing Burke, and slamming their palms against the table so hard that it rattled on its legs. He just watched mutely, unable to participate, and in shock that they would all turn on one of their own so easily. They hadn’t even given him a chance to try to explain himself- already having believed the dark Lord.
He threw a piece of rolled parchment across the table and it landed in front of Lucius who was sitting next to him. He picked the scroll up with nimble fingers and unrolled it and when he peeked over his shoulder, he saw that his name was near the top- Burke had gone so far as to alphabetize the list.
Knowing that he was ready to give them all up made him feel slightly less sorry for the man.
Atleast Regulus, in all his betraying glory, wasn’t trying to bring anyone else down with him.
Burke began crying, his tears sliding off his round cheeks and falling on the table below him, “Please,” he blubbered, “I was only- I was just-” he didn’t have an explanation.
But Regulus recognized the fear that overtook him. He understood why he did what he did. He was only a part of this because his brother, the owner of Borgin & Burkes, held fondness for the dark Lord and had been a loyal follower from this start. His brother was brought in later on and even then he never showed much enthusiasm for the cause, instead just skating by because of his surname.
He reminded him a bit of himself and the realisation was chilling.
“I’m sorry!” he wailed.
Regulus looked back up to the dark Lord who licked his lips and tapped a sharp nail against the table. Then, he slowly moved his wand and he turned back to see Burke slowly being moved off the table before he was dropped right back on his feet. He hastily reorganised himself as he stared at the dark Lord in amazement, “My Lord, thank you- oh thank you-.
“That is enough Burke, you apologised, now sit- and let’s enjoy our toast,” he smiled ruefully.
The man hurried back into his chair, feeling proud of himself, and he must’ve not realised the single finger the dark Lord raised on his right hand as he quickly grabbed his cup and took a large swig of it. No one else had even moved.
When he put the glass down, he breathed a sigh of relief, his blue eyes roving around the room but his relief was short-lived as he took notice of the rest of them.
Then suddenly, blood, thick and viscous, started pooling from his nose, drip dripping, onto the table. His face paled and the veins in his face stood out starkly, blue and purple weaving like a spider web across his face. He started choking on nothing as he brought his hands up to his neck and all they could do was watch in mute horror as he began foaming at the mouth.
“There is no excuse for treachery.”
He fell forward towards the table, seizing, until he finally stopped moving. He had tipped the glass of wine over and Regulus watched it mingle with his blood and pool across the table edge before it too began dripping on the floor.
He forced himself to look away from Burke’s still-open eyes.
“Drink,” Voldemort ordered the rest of them, his eyes glowing red.
Having no other option, everybody slowly picked up their drinks, removed their masks, and took a drink.
And there, three seats down from him, on the other side of the table, was Peter Pettigrew.
Regulus had to hold himself back from lunging over the table then and choking the life from his fat neck. He was nervously looking up and down the table as he held the glass of wine in both hands and he had glanced over him once but upon noticing his glare, he doubled back.
His face paled just like Burke’s had and Regulus didn’t even care if his own cup contained poison as he took a long sip from his glass because all of his attention was devoted to the rat across from him.
__________
The second they were allowed to leave, Regulus darted away, mask at his side. He didn’t waste any time in speaking to anyone else around him nor did he even want to.
He couldn’t use the floo, the line was too long and he’d have to announce where he was going anyway so his only option was apparition. However, Bellatrix put up anti-apparition wards anytime the dark Lord was over so that meant Regulus had to walk all the way down to the property line to get out.
He’d only seen Peter for a second before he was out the front door but he was already pushing past people to get to him then and Regulus had no doubt he was behind him now.
The winter air bit his face and tears escaped his eyes but he didn’t let that slow him down. He chanced a look over his shoulder and saw Peter run out of the house, unabashedly chasing him through the night.
It was dark, so dark that Regulus could barely see in front of him but he remembered what the layout of the lawn was like so he kept running straight towards that iron wrought gate he could see reflecting moonlight in the distance, narrowly avoiding shrubs and various decorative statues.
Suddenly, a jet of red light streamed past his ear and he faltered for just a second before picking back up, “Black!” he shouted, his voice heavy and dripping with desperation.
His legs cramped and his lungs burned and when Peter shot another spell, so close he could feel the heat, he whispered Muffliato and turned around, “You’re a fucking traitor!” he shouted.
“No you don’t-” he started but Regulus didn’t care because he’d turned around already.
The minute he made it past the gates, he stopped and he’d just started to turn on his heel to apparate away when Peter had tackled him, lunging at him with his entire body and taking him to the ground. Regulus started throwing out blind punches and he felt one land as he howled in pain above him. Peter ended up grabbing both of his shoulders and he slammed them into the ground, knocking the air from his body and rocking the back of his head.
He wheezed but still choked out, “You’re a fucking rat,” before laughing maniacally, he couldn’t help it because of course it was him and he was just giving him all the proof he needed by attacking him. An innocent man deserving of the benefit of the doubt certainly wouldn’t act like this.
Peter was much larger than him and despite all of his efforts, he kept Regulus down and he clearly wasn’t pleased with his last comment because he brought a fist up and it connected with the right side of his face so hard that his vision went black for a moment. He did it once more and this time he heard and felt something crack.
“You don’t understand!” Peter shouted at him but it didn’t matter because he was so dizzy that he could barely hear him. It was as if he was a million miles away and the ringing noise took precedence over his shouting as it echoed around his skull.
His extremities were slowly going numb from the cold and then Peter, hot air steaming from his mouth, pulled his wand out and Regulus tried, he really did, to reach up and get another hit in and free himself but he was powerless and every second Peter spent sitting on him was another in which he wasn’t getting any air down.
He started muttering some spell on and on and a silver thread of light escaped Peter’s wand and wound its way into his forehead.
“He’ll never forgive you,” he rasped with his last breath as the taste of iron coated his mouth.
__________
“Kreacher,” he whispered when he finally landed at home, his entire body aching when he touched ground again. He was surprised he hadn’t splinched himself on the way here.
“Master Regulus!” he yelped when he popped into the doorway and saw him like that. He hastily pushed forward and when he keeled over, dizzy, Kreacher took to snapping his fingers and partially levitating him to his room, making each step feel weightless.
When he saw his bed, he could’ve cried in relief.
He immediately fell face-first into it, wincing at the jolting pain that racked his body, before exhaling and falling into a deep sleep once more.
__________
When he woke up, he was met with the green canopy of his bed rustling above him.
“What happened?” he muttered to himself, bringing a trembling hand up to his face. It was tender to the barest of touches and his mouth was dry and tasted like an animal had died in it.
He was still in his outside robes but his shoes were placed neatly by the door and his mask on his desk. The blanket was pulled up around him and he slowly turned, stretching his aching limbs, and gratefully saw a slew of potions along with a glass of water waiting for him on his bedside table.
He painfully downed each potion and two glasses of water before laying back down, his energy already depleted once more.
What the hell had happened? His sympathetic nervous system was still active, his fight-or-flight making his heart race and palms sweat but when he tried to piece together a reason for it- he couldn’t remember anything. All he knew was that something was wrong…very very wrong.
He shut his eyes and forced himself to think- he remembered being in his room this morning, reading a book after breakfast, then he skipped lunch, then…oh! He had gone to Bellatrix’s for a meeting.
Of course, there was the meeting where Voldemort had gone and killed Burke via poison in front of their eyes. Burke- whose only crime was fear.
If he’d done that to Burke then with the information he had on him…Voldemort would surely feed him to that snake of his, Nagini.
How had he even found out that information about Burke? Surely he had taken every precaution imaginable as well before then. He had to have done something to tip off the dark Lord.
He had to leave now. He’d been toying with the idea of looking for the horcruxes but now he didn’t have any other choice because staying around only increased his risk of being found out or caught or gods knows what else.
He needed to go to…no, he couldn’t go to James’ but why? He got up and paced around his room as he thought but he could physically feel it, he felt the need to act race through him but it was as if he kept running into some mental block, something forcing him to stay away from James.
Anytime he thought about going to James, his body shouted at him in protest and images of Voldemort kept racing through his mind, linking the two of them together. If he went to James, somehow, Voldemort would know- or atleast, that’s how he tried to rationalise the thoughts running through him. He felt like he couldn’t even trust his own mind right now,
“Kreacher!” he called out desperately.
“Master Regulus is awake!” he cried once he appeared in his room.
“Kreacher, pack me a bag. I’ll need a couple changes of clothes and some food. Get extra gold from the safe downstairs. And do not tell Mother,” he ordered hastily.
“But Master Regulus-.”
“Now Kreacher!” he shouted impatiently before he walked right back out of the house. He was disoriented to find it was still dark and he didn’t even know how long he was knocked out for. When he woke up in the forest by Bellatrix’s house, it was definitely still nighttime but now that it was still dark outside, he wasn’t sure whether only a couple hours or an entire day had gone by.
He turned on his heel and apparated straight to Evan’s house.
“Reg?” he asked, opening the door after his third knock.
He walked straight in, “Ev, you need to listen to me okay?”
His tired face instantly warped into one of confusion as his sandy coloured brows furrowed, “Are you alright? Gods, Reg, your face-.”
He waved his prodding hand away, “Listen. I need to go away for a while okay? I have some things I need to take care of and there’s- my memory is off and-.”
Evan placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, “You’re scaring me, what’s happened? Tell me,” he begged, leaning up to try and catch his eye but it was of no use.
“Evan, listen to me. I’m going away and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. There’s some things I need to do but you and Barty- you- you have to protect James. I’m not sure exactly what’s happening but he can’t trust the people around him, I would tell him myself but I can’t. Swear to me you’ll keep him safe- that you’ll tell him anything you find out about Voldemort, any plans or attacks, and make sure he stays out of harm's way. You and Barty can handle yourselves but he- he,” emotion started pooling up in his throat as he gripped at Evan’s arms, “I just need someone else to look after him for me.”
Evan, serious now, nodded, “I swear it Regulus.”
He nodded once before looking back at Evan and throwing his arms around him, holding him in a tight embrace. When they separated, Evan’s eyes were shining, “Whatever it is you’re doing I trust you, but I’m scared as fuck Reg. Just, promise me you’ll look after yourself okay?” He was smoothing back his hair in a comforting gesture and he doubted he even realised he was doing it.
He found that he couldn’t bring himself to agree to the promise.
__________
The wards around Potter manor did not automatically let them in which forced Evan and Barty to ring the buzzer attached to the large gates guarding the house and wait.
“Who is it?” Sirius’ voice called out suspiciously.
“It’s Evan and Barty,” Evan sighed.
There were some muffled voices and then a, “Go away,” from Sirius. They were about to just rip the wards down when,
“Come in!” James' voice called and the iron wrought gates slowly creaked open to allow them entrance and they slowly made their way up the gravel path.
A small house elf greeted them at the door and Evan gave it a small wave while Barty leaned down and reached a hand out. The elf, currently sporting a floral tea cloth, looked at his hand as though it was dirty and refused to shake it. Barty sniffed and turned away.
Then, James rounded the corner, “Hey, what is it?” he asked, instantly noting their expressions and matching it.
“We need to talk,” Barty sighed from next to him, having barely processed the information himself.
James jerked his head and they followed him into a sitting room where Sirius was situated in front of a game of wizard’s chess, “What are you two doing here?” he questioned rather sassily. Barty just silently walked up to the game, stared down at it for a moment, before moving a piece two squares to the right. Sirius gaped while Barty’s pieces danced around the board for a moment- he must’ve won. Evan wasn’t sure though, chess was never his strong suit, he couldn’t get a grip on all the rules.
Evan just decided to take the lead on this one as Regulus spoke to him directly in the first place, “Listen, I came by to tell you that- Regulus left.”
“What?” Sirius asked, instantly rounding on them before coming over to where they were and sitting down right next to James who continued to stare at them in barely restrained silence.
“Reg came to my house last night in some sort of frenzy. I don’t fully understand what happened but there was a meeting the night before at Bellatrix’s. Neither of us were there but Regulus was and I’m guessing something happened there because yesterday, he came to my house and said that he had to go out to take care of some business,” he explained as clearly as he could.
“What business?” James asked, face twisted in confusion.
“I’m not sure. He said he would’ve told you both himself but he couldn’t. He mentioned that something was wrong with his memory, but he wanted me to tell you this…” he trailed off, weighing their expressions.
“Go on,” Sirius urged, flapping his hands.
“He said that you can’t trust the people around you.”
“What does that mean?” Sirius asked, leaning so far forward he was about to fall off the sofa.
“Again, I’m not sure. This all happened so quickly but he wanted to make sure that you knew that,” he forced out with a shrug, wishing he understood it more himself.
He knew that they didn’t trust him or Barty. They never really spoke at Hogwarts except for the occasional jab or if they happened to pass each other in the halls and Regulus was with them so they had no real reason to believe him but he hoped they knew that when it came to Regulus, they would never mess around.
Regulus had done more for the both of them than he probably should have and has gone through more pain in his short life than most will probably experience in a lifetime so it wasn’t his place to take anything he said lightly, especially not with how he came to his house in such a panic.
“That doesn’t make any sense? Why wouldn’t we be able to- James?” Sirius asked, turning to look at James who was rubbing his burning cheeks anxiously.
He only shook his head in reply. “When will he be back?” James asked instead.
He shrugged, “He wasn’t sure.”
“My mother wouldn’t just let him walk out of the house like that though,” Sirius frowned.
“I doubt she knows,” Barty replied hopelessly.
Evan just eyed James across from him who wasn’t saying much, looking seemingly too lost in his own mind to come up with anything to say.
“How did you just let him walk out of your house?” Sirius accused him angrily as he stood up.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Barty asked, putting a hand in front of Evan to stop him as he stood up and faced Sirius on his own.
“You two are supposed to be his best friends. He comes to you, clearly out of his mind, and you let him galavant off to what? Travel around on his own without telling anyone?”
“He’s not galavanting he has-.”
“Business right? Like I’m supposed to accept that. You should have kept him there, watched over him-,” Sirius went on, gritting his teeth.
“What like a child? I’m his friend not his parent and I trust him to know what he was doing. He was in his sane mind when he left,” Evan pushed.
“Well as a friend you should be watching over him-,”
“As his friends, we stand with him, notover him. Regulus might still be a child to you but he’s an adult now and it’d do you well to remember that,” Barty finished, pressing a finger into Sirius’ sternum and pushing him back a step. He was clearly offended that Sirius dared to question their friendship and Evan was sure he’d feel the same way had someone flipped the question around on him and James.
With a final look at James, Barty walked out of the room towards the front door and Sirius stormed up the stairs so Evan decided to finish up business for the both of them, “Look, Regulus was in his right mind when he came over and he did want to come tell you himself but something…something was preventing him. I don’t know what happened at that meeting but it switched something in his mind, gave him a sense of urgency that I’ve never seen. But he didn’t personally seem to be in any sort of danger or else he would have told me so try not to worry too much,” He repeated clearly to ensure it sank in and James nodded, indicating that it had,
“Does it ever get easier?” James suddenly asked him, his hazel eyes bright as they latched onto his own.
He had to shake his head, “It would unfortunately seem that you and I have chosen among the most hotheaded, stubborn, and sometimes impulsive men around and while we love them dearly, sometimes it’s important to let them work things out on their own.”
James nodded and then, in a moment of bravery, he spoke, “Look, I don’t mean to overstep in any way but I really think you should start acting with a bit more caution when it comes to your friends. Regulus, Barty, and I, we trust each other unquestionably because we’re friends but also because we are all incredibly open about our issues with the dark Lord so there is no need to act cautiously. Your side however, wouldn’t dare to admit that they might have fallen for the dark Lord’s wiles so while I know you wouldn’t want to think that of anybody, please keep an eye out and stay on alert.”
James brow furrowed and Evan wasn’t quite sure he would heed his advice.
He turned to leave and James followed him to the door and before he stepped out, he reached out to put a hand on his shoulder in a rare show of support and said, “Have faith in him, I know he’ll do anything to come back to you.”
James' faced softened a bit, "You're a good friend Evan. I'm glad he has you."
"If only you could explain that to his brother up there," he muttered.
James just shifted to lean against the door as a tired smile pulled at his lips, "He'll come around, he always does."
__________
“It’s beautiful,” he breathed as he turned the locket over in his hands, feeling the firm weight of it and the way the silver metal reflected the fires burning low in the sconces around them.
“I’m glad you like it Mr. Black, it was a tough piece to make but it certainly is magnificent,” Galos said, looking over his shoulder and down at his own handiwork as well. “I can have a picture installed in it as well if you would like?” he offered.
He clicked open the top of the locket and rubbed a finger over the slight space inside, “I don’t think I’ll be doing that just yet Galos, thank you.” He couldn’t open the real locket but he didn’t think there was anything inside so he wanted to leave this one as is for now.
Once the locket was bagged and he paid the hefty price tag, he went back home to his home in France, the same one his father died in. He hadn’t been back since that day but he had to admit the house served as a nice base for him now that he couldn’t go back home. It had been in the Black family for generations and had mostly fallen into disuse in recent years, aside from his father’s short trip. The only way someone would find this place was if they looked through the Black family archives but even those were inaccessible to the general public.
He dropped his bags off in the entryway and stepped back outside on the other side of the house, wrapping his cloak tightly around himself as he walked past the garden and down to the south side of the property.
Orion’s body was laid to rest in the family cemetery here. It was an unorthodox choice but it made sense now why his mother chose to do that instead of laying him to rest in the family mausoleum.
He had a modest gravestone put in, just his name with his date of birth and date of passing inscribed beneath it. It didn’t feel right for his father to have an unmarked grave but there was really nothing more he could say about the man, not with all of his complicated feelings towards him still roiling within him.
It was under a large tree and Regulus sat down on the creaky bench beneath it, watching the bare branches rustle slightly in the breeze above him and blow the dust off the top of the striated marble slab.
He didn’t say anything but he felt a sort of morbid comfort being here with his dad now. It almost felt like he had impacted his life more since he passed than he ever had while he was around.
He thought he would have liked the know the man Orion Black would have been had he chosen to live a more free life, perhaps a life more like Alphard or him now as it would seem.
He leaned back, shut his eyes, and thought about that lighthouse up on the cliffside that had somehow become his only safe place inside his mind. When he opened his eyes again, it was dark outside, and he hadn’t even realised how much time had passed- it felt like he had only just blinked.
He felt calmer then, having worked on his Occlumency. Though in the process of doing so, he felt the acute absence of something, some misconstruction in his memories surrounding Bellatrix’s dinner. He learned once that sometimes the mind protected itself from certain traumas and wondered if this was somehow related to that.
He hadn’t even noticed the house elf staring up at him from his side, “Master Regulus?” it asked.
“What is it?”
“Your papers have arrived from Kreacher sir,” he replied solemnly. The elves had all been a bit subdued since his fathers passing. It was sad to think about them, tied to a house that no one lived in- when he arrived, they acted as though he was the Minister of Magic himself.
He thanked the elf and followed him inside towards the wrapped bundle waiting for him on the dining table. He immediately sat down, taking a sip from the cup of tea that had been placed on stasis for him, and began sifting through the many papers in Tom’s file because one of them had to contain a clue as to what the dark Lord’s true backstory was.
Only then, would he be able to get started on finding his next horcrux.