Chapter 3
One week later
James
Today was a big day.
There was to be a meeting set in Black Manor, where Voldemort was going to instruct them on his next big idea, and the death eaters would perfect it, pulling strings and solutions until it was irreproachable. Another thing was happening today. Another big event. James, Sirius, Peter, and Regulus were getting the dark mark. If we’re being honest here, James was absolutely terrified. He knew this had to be done, he knew for a long time. The Potters were known to be the good guys, and were always separated from the other pure bloods due to racist pieces of shit, but even if most had been sorted into Gryffindor and had hearts of gold, they weren’t strangers to the dark side of the Wizarding World. James had just added to that by actually becoming a death eater.
At breakfast, most of Slytherin table was encompassed by a cloud of anxiety and cold gazes shared by students and curt nods, a certain type of support without the vulnerability that usually accompanies it. Many students barely touched their food, and the others ate well, confused and oblivious to their classmates worry. Of course, the Marauders were no strangers to this worry. The previous night, James was almost sure that none of them slept a wink, but were too afraid to talk about any of it. The school day went on, and they all pushed through, until an hour before the meeting. They were to travel there by port key, and had to place charms to make it seem like they were in bed. While getting everything prepared (including themselves), they all stayed completely silent. The tension is the air was thick, and sticky, and suffocating, James could almost taste it. Soon enough, an hour passed, every except them was ready. They wrapped their hands around the old book, and collectively let out a breath they had all been holding.
“Here we go.”
Regulus
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.
Regulus was screwed to say the least. He was getting The Mark. He was sure of it. He had almost no idea on what was happening today, since his mother had forbidden him from getting any information except for the fact that there would be a meeting at their house, and Voldemort would be there. He was petrified. The entire day felt like a daze. He couldn’t pay attention to anything in class and all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, his vision had a vignette and he was covered in sweat. He didn’t eat and ignored anything said to him. The only thing that snapped him out of his dream was a sharp slap across his face from Walburga. He looked up and saw her stern face. “How dare you not answer me! I have asked you if you know anything about your brother and his friends, if they are to come here tonight! Now answer me or it’ll be worse than a slap!”
“Désolé maman. I do not know, I would never loiter with their kind.”
“D’accord. Go get changed. And clean your face.” She replied, emotionless.
Confused, Regulus started walking towards the marble staircase and brought his hand up to his cheek. It felt wet. He looked at his hand and saw blood covering his fingers and rings. Regulus was no stranger to the tangy smell of iron and the dark red stains. He had multiple spells and draughts to fix them and renew his skin to perfection. He quickly got changed and fixed himself up, and turned to the mirror in his bathroom. Taking a few deep breaths which did almost nothing for the boy, he walked back downstairs. As he turned the corner to the dining hall, he saw multiple faces he recognized, but his eyes snapped to the one that is constantly on his mind, like a raging wildfire that won’t go out despite all efforts. That face belonged to James Potter. Regulus had a feeling he’d be here, but wasn’t entirely sure until now. He noticed one more thing. James was sitting in his chair. Who dares to sit in the chair of the Noble house of Black’s heir? James Potter that is. So Regulus walked over to his chair with as much grace as ever, and finally locked eyes with him. James’ being soft and inviting, but his were cold.
“Hello Regulus. Can I help you with something?”
“Yes Potter, in fact, you can be a great help to me and get your ass the fuck out of my chair.” He spat in a whisper, knowing better than to crest commotion at this time.
“I don’t see your name on it though? Can’t you sit somewhere else?” He replied.
“Actually, it does have my name on it you twat.”
At this statement, James went a bit wide eyed and looked back at the chair and sure enough, right at the top, it was engraved into the mahogany. R.A.B. James looked at it for a bit and the hung his head low. “Sorry.” He muttered with a frown and moved over to another seat. Regulus sat down and felt something weird. It was like he ate a brick and someone was sitting on his chest. He tried his best to shake it off and then looked over to the door opening.
Voldemort.
Voldemort stalked over to his chair and sat down. Regulus was practically shaking, until his mother glared at him from across the table. As if to speak with her eyes and tell him to stop that.
“Today we are here to celebrate the joining of six wonderful new death eaters, I have high hopes for these young children, and that they will bring us great pride. For our first mark, let us have Regulus Black.” He spoke with a smirk. Regulus got up on shaky legs and walked to the front of the room where Voldemort stood, wand in hand. He extended his right arm and shut his eyes, feeling the cold tip of Voldemort’s wand on his skin.
“Here we go.”