Black Rose [Regulus Black]

"Obviously, the next best step would be to visit Morfin Gaunt," Regulus murmured, his finger tracing said man's name on the dusty family tree of the Slytherin family.

Alessandra frowned. "Wouldn't it be better to visit Hestia Snyde? She looks... more likely to have the locket."

"If you mean she looks less mad, then yes. But, the Snydes are only barely related to the Slytherins - they don't hold any of Salazar's abilities, Parseltongues included." Reg hesitated before saying next, "Also... because Morfin is his uncle, he'd be more likely to know more, you know..."

She knew. She still didn't like it.

She supposed it was because of what she would have to hear about her... father. God, it was still so difficult to believe that her father was that reptilian-looking creature that went around killing people simply because he felt like it.

She wanted to know what he was like as a child and what drove him to do such horrific things. But, she was also scared of knowing. What if it was a genetic thing?

Reg sighed and wrapped an arm around her. "I know you don't want to, and I don't want this for you either. But, it's our only option. We don't have much information to go off of yet, and I'd rather this war be over soon."

She nodded, biting her lip. "What if it's a genetic thing though?"

"I told you, it's the Dark rituals he performed continuously that made him like that, not the genetics. I think you're fine."

"It's not that. What if the madness is inherent? Morfin doesn't look very... sane," she gestured at the picture of the man in the book, where he was leering at a snake pinned to the wall in the background. "And we know how... his nephew turned out."

And, that's how I may turn out. Lovely.

"It's worth a try."

"What if he goes berserk and tries to kill us?"

"He can't," Reg reassured her. "He's in Azkaban."

"He's in what?" Sandra asked.

"Azkaban. Wizarding prison."

While it did reassure her about her safety, it made her even more concerned as to what the man could've done to end up in prison. It was probably genetic.

"Stop," Reg said. "I know what you're doing. Don't overthink it. It won't help you at all."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Your mind's jumping to the worst possible conclusions."

She opened her mouth to deny it, and shut it, knowing he was right. It didn't ease her nerves though. "All of the possibilities are bad, Regulus. What if-"

"Stop. There will be no what-ifs. I can't guarantee you everything will be alright and our plans will be as smooth as a goblin's tongue, but constantly worrying about it won't do much except hurt you. Think about something else.

"Goblin's tongue?" she echoed.

His cheeks pinked a little. "It's a saying. Goblins are known for their smooth tongues - their ability to deceive, to spin the situation in their favour. There's a reason they're in charge of Gringotts."

"The bank?"

His lips curved up slightly, and the tiny movement made her forget her worries temporarily. "Yes, the bank. Anyways, Morfin's in Azkaban because of some incident with a Muggle apparently, one of my friends in the Auror Department told me."

"So, how will we get in contact with him?"

Reg smiled grimly. "We break in."

She blinked. "We break into prison? Isn't there another option? Can't you convince your friend to let you go there and keep the visit under wraps?"

"It's easier said than done. Aside from it being a high-security prison holding the worst of the worst, people don't want to go there because of-" his sentence broke off and he hissed, causing her heartrate to skyrocket because of the jolt of fear she felt.

"What? What happened?"

"He's summoning me."

She didn't have to ask Regulus to specify who 'he' was. "Go."

Regulus apparated away, letting out a gasp of agony when the mark turned hotter, making him feel as if he was placing his hand on hot metal. He landed in front of Malfoy Manor, breaking out into a sprint so he could reach the meeting room as soon as possible.

The moment he strolled through the dark doors of the grim meeting room in the manor and sat down, the pain in his arm let up and lightning crashed through the sky, as though nature was reminding him that this was a bad place to be, not that he needed the reminder.

Maybe it was a sign that something bad was about to happen.

Then again, something bad always happened at these meetings.

The Dark Lord calmly walked through the very doors Regulus had rushed past just moments ago, and Regulus forced a calm expression on his face, putting up his Occlumency walls. He relaxed ever so slightly when he noticed that the Dark Lord wasn't angry.

He then tensed up when he realised that the expression on the Dark Lord's face could be classified as... happy.

That was definitely not a good sign.

There was a thick silence when the Dark Lord took his seat, one that lasted two minutes but felt like an eternity. The Death Eaters all looked expressionless, as they were taught to be - the pureblood community and Lord Voldemort believed emotions were a sign of weakness. But, Regulus didn't need much effort to decipher how the others truly felt. He'd spent years getting into their minds because of his mother's commands, he knew exactly how they felt about what.

Bartemius Crouch was excited, like a hound sniffing blood.

Bellatrix Lestrange was even more excited than Barty, looking willing to kiss the very ground the Dark Lord walked on.

Rodolphus Lestrange was a little uneasy, partly because he didn't like the way his wife looked at the Dark Lord.

Holden Yaxley was nervous - everybody knew he got inducted only because of his father's connections with the Dark Lord.

Audrey Shafiq hated it because she didn't want to be a part of this. She didn't share the same beliefs as anybody here. Her family forced her to be here, and there was nothing she felt she could do about it.

Narcissa Malfoy wanted to flee.

Lucius Malfoy, for a change, didn't look as thrilled to be here. It was probably because when the Dark Lord was happy, blood was bound to stain the expensive carpets lining his floor.

Blood was bound to stain the expensive carpets lining the meeting room's floor either way. It was just that when the Dark Lord was happy, it wasn't the blood of their own staining the carpet.

"Our spy in the order," the Dark Lord declared gleefully, pausing for a moment for dramatics, "has revealed the location of the Potters. We attack tomorrow. We either recruit them, or see the light leave their eyes."

Fuck.

⚜

Lightning flashed again as Regulus raced through Hastings Street.

That was definitely not a good sign.

He slipped a little a few steps away from a four storey building, cursing under his breath as he slowed down and hobbled into the building, feeling his left ankle throb. Still, he ploughed on, only one thing on his mind.

The attack on the Potters that was going to take place in the future.

He groaned lightly as he stared up at the staircases in the Muggle building. So many stairs, so many doors to knock on, such less time, such less energy.

Such less time.

As if the universe had listened to him for once his life, a door to his right swung open to reveal Lupin.

"Regulus?" he frowned, looking visibly haggard, probably because the full moon was approaching.

Reg didn't bother to reply to the greeting, quickly entering the house. Lupin, thankfully, understood that he was here for something important, something secret, and shut the door behind him.

"They're going to attack the Potters."

Sirius, perhaps, understood it was important, but did not understand it was meant to be kept quiet, because of the loud "WHAT?!" that came out of his mouth.

Regulus turned around to see his brother, hair unkempt and clothes ruffled. Any other time, he would be making scathing remarks on how dishevelled his brother looked, but not wasn't the time.

"You need to move the Potters to a safer location. They plan on attacking the Potters. Actually, they plan on recruiting the Potters, and since your friend is a saint, he's obviously going to say no. That means the Death Eaters will kill them."

There was a beat of silence. Then -

"Yeah, I don't buy that."

Alright, maybe Sirius did not understand how important this was. A flame of irritation rose in Regulus, made of Fiendyfyre and driven by every time Sirius deemed him untrustworthy.

If he didn't help, he was useless. If he tried to help, he was still useless.

"And why not?" he asked through grit teeth.

"How do we know this isn't just some hoax?"

"Tell you what," he snapped, patience fraying, "Why don't we wait 24 hours and then find out whether or not it's a hoax?"

"I have my reasons to not trust your information-"

"You mean me."

"You're taking words out of my mouth at this point."

Too tired to continue this argument, Regulus ploughed on, determined to knock at least some sense into them. He didn't even know why it mattered to him - he could've gone home instead, mercifully dry with a hot meal at the dining table, no skin off his back. Instead, he was here trying to convince this oaf something bad was going to happen.

"You need to get the Potters to a safe location, but in a subtle way. Make it out as though they're going on a short vacation or something."

Sirius opened his mouth, no doubt to say something unbelievably idiotic, but Lupin cut in. "We will look into it."

They did not trust him.

Lupin looked somewhat apologetic, as though that was supposed to mollify Reg.

It did not.

It felt like a firm stone weight was settling itself on his heart, making him feel so shitty, not unlike the time his brother left that house forever.

Except this time, it was him walking out the door, but feeling more defeated than liberated.

⚜

Regulus woke up, calm and rested, deciding that he didn't give a flying fuck on what happened to them anymore.

Actually, he spent the night tossing and turning and scowling at the ceiling and wondering what more he could possibly do.

But, the not-giving-a-flying-fuck thing still stood.

Kind of.

Walking to Alessandra's house (he didn't want to Apparate because it could leave a magical signature), he replayed yesterday's interaction in his head, trying to come up with something to remedy the situation.

He came up short.

He tried to dispel the situation from his mind, paying extra attention to his surroundings. He'd had lots of practice from a young age finding spots to hide in case things ever went South (which they often did in his house), and that was what he was doing now — mapping out potential hideout spots.

He stopped walking for a moment, turning to examine a groove in the wall of the narrow alley he was walking in (the things he did for Sandra). He tapped at the brick lightly, trying to figure out the source of the impression in the wall: it looked like it had been gouged out.

Whether or not it was by a wizard, he could not tell. There were no signs of magic.

If it were a few years ago, he wouldn't have even doubted that a mark on a Muggle wall could be left by a wizard. However, circumstances had changed, and now, anything was possible. Death Eaters — the people he worked with, much to his absolute disgust now — were killing off Muggles by the numbers, entering Muggle towns with no fear in their hearts and a hunger for blood in their minds.

Thinking about this stressed him out even more, because it reminded him of the fact that he and Alessandra were so behind. They barely had any information.

He shuddered a little and rolled his neck, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. He turned his head infinitesimally, trying to catch a glimpse of who it could be. His intuition told him there was most certainly someone there — someone with no good intent — and his intuition was rarely wrong.

Nobody was there.

But that didn't curb his suspicions.

He discreetly slipped his wand out of his pocket. "Homenum revelio," he murmured.

There wasn't a breeze as there should've been if someone was there, which ought to have led him to leave it and continue his journey. However, he couldn't let go of this feeling that he was being watched.

The alley he was walking in wasn't very unpleasant. It reeked, but not as much as other alleys, and at either end he could hear people chattering as they walked by. Feeble sunrays caressed his face, and in that moment, they oddly reminded him of how he felt around his mother.

Warm skin but her cold heart brought frozen lead blood to her veins.

A shudder rolled through him once again and he continued walking, eager to get out of there so he could see Alessandra after what felt like eternity (it hadn't even been an entire day). The tingling feeling would not go away, and he kept his head slightly tilted to the side so he could spot some movement in the corner of his eye.

He abruptly came to a halt when he heard a sound, and his heart wildly beat in his chest as he considered all the possibilities. It was either some Muggle robber, out to rob him, in which case he was fine.

Or, it could be an Auror or a Death Eater... the former being deadly to him, the latter being deadlier to all.

He whipped around and took out his wand, not caring who saw. He stalked back through the alley towards the entrance. His head was held high but he still felt faint with fear.

There was a clatter yet again, and he raised his wand and spun around to see the source of the sound, only to see... a rat?

He blinked at it, and then snorted at himself. Unbelievable. He was getting suspicious over a bloody rat like some thick-skulled moron... Merlin, he was far too paranoid. He pocketed his wand and spun around, on his merry way.

Then, halfway through the alley, he paused.

The clattering was following him around.

A rat. You're scared of a rat.

He took a moment to collect himself and forged ahead, desperately wanting to get the fuck out of there. Eventually, a few steps away from the exit of the alley (the rat was still scampering behind him), he calmed down.

Calming down meant he finally got to think rationally.

Rat, a voice — voices — swirling around his head seemed to say, rat.

Now he was seriously (no pun intended) creeped out, because the cacophony of voices seemed to be growing louder and louder, and they made no sense. It was Alessandra and his mother and Sirius and his father and Evan and Barty and Bella and Cissa and even Lupin...

Rat!

It hit him, and he spun around, whipping out his wand and casting a spell. A jet of blue light escaped the tip and illuminated the dingy alley, and the impact was so profound that he was thrown back into a trashcan. His head swam with pain from colliding against the wall and tears gathered in his eyes and he suddenly felt crippling exhaustion, probably from the spell or from any other injury he might have gotten.

Still, he got up, head spinning and words just echoing and overlapping in his mind, and he wheezed as he limped forward (he couldn't ask Kreacher or Mother to fix his leg or they would have suspicions, and he didn't do a very good job at fixing it).

"Pettigrew," he said pleasantly, the only thing betraying the unpleasantness he felt for Peter being the look of disgust on his face.

Without waiting for a response, Reg cast the Legilimency charm and began sifting through Peter's memories while that spying rat was still recovering from the blow of the Animagus Reversal Spell. Reg wasn't any better off: his head was still throbbing, as was his ankle.

"...so we can keep watch on the McKinnons..." a faceless voice solemnly said.

"What would your friends think of this?" another cackled.

"Our door is always open for you, Pete..." a kind voice said, this time accompanied with the face of a redheaded woman.

"I want this information by next week," a voice demanded. "I've given you too long. Others have had to do far more to prove themselves. Do not take advantage of my lenience."

Reg grit his teeth as he pushed past all that meaningless crap, trying to find real information and pocketing (not literally, of course) everything he found. As he sifted through the contents of Peter's brain, a specific memory jumped out at him, one that sent a hot wave of rage pulsing through him.

It was him and Alessandra, outside the restaurant she worked at, him clad in black and holding up his umbrella and her wearing that green dress that brought out her eyes and made her look positively ethereal, like a goddess.

That bastard had been spying on them.

Regulus was so blinded by rage that he didn't notice that Pettigrew had finally regained a little bit of his strength, until he felt someone pull his leg and cause him to tumble down. Within moments, fists were pummelling at his face and his head snapped back, his arms coming up to protect him from the landing. Peter's strength was surprising, except Regulus didn't have time to admire it considering that his head was being bashed in like an overripe grape. He tried pushing Peter off, doing his best to use his elbows to jab at him, albeit unsuccessfully.

Suddenly, there was a surge of warmth through his body and the weight on Regulus dissipated.

Am I in heaven?

He blinked up at the pale blue sky, spread-eagled in the alley and was suddenly so grateful that it wasn't night because the stars weren't out — at least, not where he could see them. Merlin,his ancestors would be so disappointed in him.

It took him a while to realise the punches had gone and raised his head to see an unconscious lump that he recognized as Pettigrew. He didn't quite understand what exactly had happened, and looked at his hands, which tingled a little.

It felt like his lungs were struggling to accept the oxygen flooding into them and he wheezed as he clambered to his feet, tossing his head back elegantly as if to maintain the picture of effortlessness.

Even though it felt like he'd just been beaten to within an inch of his life, which he probably had.

Even though all the muscles in his body were screaming at him to lie back down and let them rest, he staggered towards Pettigrew, muttering an "Obliviate" to remove all memories of Alessandra and himself from the past few months. He probably wasn't in good enough condition to even be casting a Memory charm and there was a good enough chance he could be causing Pettigrew brain damage.

He deserves it.

Once all the memories were wiped, Regulus wanted to get the fuck out of there.

Don't apparate, a tiny voice inside his head shrieked hoarsely. Don't-

He apparated.

He apparated, not caring if there was a magical signature or if he would be splinched.

And landed in Alessandra's house. His beautiful girlfriend was doing her eyeliner, and she accidentally smeared it over her cheek when he startled her with his entrance.

She was so beautiful.

Oh, he got splinched.

He loopily smiled at her. "Hi, darling," he drawled, sounding unfortunately a lot like Sirius. "Miss me?"

"Why do you smell?" Alessandra wrinkled her nose. "Why are you bleeding?"

The world gave away under his feet, the last thing he saw being gorgeous green eyes that widened in alarm and a flash of golden hair.

What a way to die.

⚜

A thud.

Raised voices.

Throbbing headaches.

It was almost like he'd gone back into the past where his father was alive and his brother wasn't disowned and his arm was unmarked, and Sirius had just come back after hanging out with a Muggle.

The thud of flesh and bone against wood.

Loud shouts of anger and indignation.

Throbbing headaches, throbbing everywhere.

He groaned lightly and massaged his temple, the small action making the muscles in his arm jump in agony. His breathing quickened when he realised he was in an unfamiliar environment and he went to get up until he remembered this was Alessandra's room.

He sagged back into the bed that was far too small and far too thin.

And then he shot up.

Shit. Alessandra.

He'd  apparated to her house like some fucking moron and probably left a magical signature and the banging outside was probably the Death Eaters (or his deranged family members, although, what was the difference?).

He threw open the door, not caring that he was wandless, and saw his brother yelling at his girlfriend, Lupin trying to calm them both down. The moment Sirius set his eyes on him, grey locked with grey, he moved towards Regulus, hindered by Lupin, who was attempting to push his friend back.

"You," Sirius thundered, and laughter bubbled up in Regulus for some reason. Sirius, actually serious for once. Who would've thought. "What did you do to Wormtail?"

"You mean what did your friend do to him?" Alessandra screamed at him, face red with anger.

"Peter wouldn't have done that," Sirius snapped.

"Your little rat friend did, in fact, do that," Regulus said coolly. "I was on my way here and he decided to follow me. Actually, I don't know whether he decided to follow me because he doesn't have two braincells to rub together, but yes, he did do this to me."

Sirius looked stricken, and Lupin took the opportunity, pushing his friend down on to the couch.

"What happened?"

"I don't know!" Regulus snapped, temper rising. "I told you what happened already."

"Why is Peter high out of his mind then? He hasn't been able to form a coherent sentence since then."

"Oh yeah, I read his mind. And then wiped his memory. I was also bruised and bloody at the time so I probably didn't do the best job and he may be facing some minor brain damage but-"

"What?!" Sirius yelled.

"It's alright, in your friend's case, there's nowhere to go up."

"Sirius, sit down," Alessandra snapped as Sirius shot to his feet. "Or I'll make sure you're in a worse condition than your friend is."

Sirius pursed his lips and sat down.

"How could you possibly defend your friend?" she snarled. "Look what he did to your own brother. What kind of brother, no, what kind of person are you?"

Regulus eyed his brother warily. He almost looked guilty.

"I'm justified. Peter is innocent and you just went and-"

Yeah, never mind.

"Pettigrew is not innocent," Regulus sneered. "And neither are you. Pretend all you want. You may have made better life choices than me, but let's face it, I'm the one doing the most for a cause you claim I don't support. All things aside, your friend is shady. I heard certain things in his mind and there wasn't a single whisper in there about his mother who he should apparently be worrying about."

Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but Regulus wasn't done. It felt like days, months, years worth of anger were spilling out of him. "You claim you're against the Dark Lord, but you're willing to sell out your own brother so your friendships remain intact. You break into my girlfriend's house even though she's been nothing but civil to you. You say you want to mend ties but always end up accusing me of or blaming something on me. I've tried for a long time to patch things up with you but it's clear that you don't give a fuck, so you know what? From now on, even I won't give a fuck. Fuck you and fuck your best friends and fuck whatever happiness you claim to have found. I never, ever want to see you again."

Sirius looked like a goldfish now, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, but nothing escaped.

"Get out," Regulus snapped. He didn't feel angry or even sad. He just felt like he'd been doused in waves of cold water and couldn't keep his head above the surface.

Sirius seemed to have been struck dumb so Lupin took over, dragging Sirius out and tossing an apologetic look over his shoulder. As the door shut behind them, it felt like all the energy he'd summoned while finally telling his brother to fuck off dissipated, and he collapsed onto the couch, leaning against the pillow.

Alessandra looked him, a light mist covering her eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it."

She didn't say anything, just nodded and went into the kitchen to get him something to eat, and he felt a rush of gratitude for her.

Without her, he would have lost his mind to the madness a long time ago.

⚜