Into the Cave of Death
November 8, 2010 @ 8:53 pm (Permalink)
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Word Count: 4,969
Rating: PG-13
Category: AU/AR, Drama
Notes: Written for the Regulus Fest 2010 using prompt #74 — He’d always meant to be a spy. Get in close and then use his trusted position to learn information and pass it to the good guys. Then maybe, Sirius would look at him again without disgust. Maybe they could be brothers again, like they had been before this business of rival houses and blood politics. Many thanks to Ayla Pascal and Luvscharlie for betaing!
Summary: In the Horcrux Cave, Regulus spends his last moment there, and his memories come back to give him one last hope.
Pairing: Tiny hint of Regulus Black/Barty Crouch Jr — it’s almost invisible.
Warnings: Some mention of torture, canonical death
Dedications: None
Completed Date: September 18, 2010
1979 — Horcrux Cave
Surrounded by the darkness, Regulus gasped out, “Lumos”. His throat burned him in ways he never imagined possible. His insides hurt him, making him feel like he had thousands of knives stuck in him. Stumbling, he focused his dry and itchy eyes to seek out the boat he had to get to, but he didn’t see any boat. Instead, he fell to the ground, and he half-crawled and half-dragged himself forward as he shut his eyes in vain to keep the terrible visions from affecting him. Along with the visions, memories of his past came swarming in pieces, and he groaned loudly as he buried his face into the wet earth.
“Sirius . . . ”
1965 — 12 Grimmauld Place
“Siri!” Regulus whispered.
“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked, just as another peal of thunder exploded outside their house.
Jumping in fright, Regulus covered his mouth, his eyes wide, as he crept towards Sirius’ bed. When he was close, he asked, “Can I sleep with you? I don’t like the scary noises.”
“You know Mother doesn’t like this. She says we’re pure-blood wizards, so we have to be proud, noble, and strong!”
Regulus whimpered, “Just one more time? Just now? Please, Siri?”
“Why don’t you go to Kreacher?”
“I want to stay with you. Please, Siri?” Regulus implored again.
“Oh, fine,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes and moving over for Regulus to slide in. Happily, Regulus slipped into the warm bed, and he felt protected with his big, strong brother next to him. Snuggling next to Sirius’ side, he said, “Night, Siri.”
“Night, Reg. Just wake up when I tell you to so you can go back to your room! Let’s not upset Mother tomorrow morning.”
“I will,” Regulus answered in a sleepy voice.
1967 — 12 Grimmauld Place
“Are you sure you can do this?” Sirius whispered.
Regulus bobbed his head vigorously. “I can do this, Sirius. I can. I’ll make you proud.” He smiled widely, and he tucked the prank item into his pocket. “I can’t wait to try this on Cissy!”
Sirius and Regulus shared one last conspiratorial look before they walked into the small but majestic looking dining room for the weekly dinner with their relatives. Regulus avoided looking at Narcissa, but he did greet his aunts and uncles politely. As he took a seat, he breathed out in relief that Bellatrix was at Hogwarts instead of here. Without her scary presence, Regulus felt comfortable enough to pull this prank on Narcissa.
It wasn’t long before a huge screech was heard all over 12 Grimmauld Place, and Regulus couldn’t help but snigger at the image of his cousin looking like a drowned, greasy rat. The old bucket trick with water and oil was simple but effective. Plus, her long locks looked like a rainbow, but, unfortunately, there was no pot of gold at its end. A simple serum from Zonko’s had done the trick, and Regulus was pleased that he’d managed to sneak some of it onto her plate of food . . . with the help of Kreacher!
For the first time ever, his parents knew that this prank wasn’t one of Sirius’. In fact, they immediately knew it was him — most likely because of Regulus’ poor attempt to hide his amusement — and he suffered one of the worst beatings he’d ever gone through in his life.
He didn’t mind, though. When Sirius came to check up on him, he’d slugged Regulus’ sore shoulder and said, “Good job, little brother. You’ve managed to outdo me with Cissy. You’ve definitely made me proud.”
Regulus gave Sirius a beaming smile. “Let’s do another prank! This time on Dromeda when she comes back for the holidays.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow, but his eyes twinkled with mirth. “You sure? Well, Dromeda’s nothing like Bella and Cissy. I think she likes our pranks.”
Nodding eagerly, Regulus gingerly moved over on his bed to give Sirius some room. When he felt the bed dip with his brother’s familiar and comforting weight, he exclaimed, “Yeah! Let’s do something brilliant with Dromeda!”
1969 — 12 Grimmauld Place
Regulus backed up against the wall, and he struggled to hide his fear from Sirius. He’d never seen his brother this angry before. “I didn’t tell them!”
He watched Sirius’ scowl deepened, watched the way his brother’s grey eyes lit up with fierce rage. “Then how did Mother and Father find out about my friendship with David?”
“I don’t know!”
“You told them! After you promised not to tell!”
“I . . . I didn’t!” Regulus spat out. “They probably found out by themselves!” Now he was angry with Sirius’ accusations, and he yelled, “It’s your fault for being friends with that Muggle! Why can’t you just have friends who are like us?”
“Like us?” Sounding disgusted, Sirius continued, “You’re just like them. You–! And I thought you’d believe differently from them.” Spinning around, he stomped up to his room.
“Blast . . . ” Regulus sank to the ground, giving relief to his shaky legs. Tears came to his eyes, and he hastily wiped them away. He hadn’t meant to say that to Sirius. He wanted to support Sirius, but he also wanted to support his parents. He’d never wanted to choose sides.
Now, though, it looked like he had to choose.
1971 — 12 Grimmauld Place
Regulus watched his parents eat their breakfast with sour looks. It was the second of September, and his parents were in dour moods because they hadn’t heard from Sirius yet.
“If he doesn’t send an owl today, I’m sending him a Howler. How dare does he make us worry like this?” Walburga set her fork down hard enough that the table shook.
Orion grunted in agreement.
Regulus remained silent, knowing it wasn’t wise to say anything now since his mother’s rage might turn towards him.
Just then, an owl fluttered in, and all three of them looked at it. Regulus blinked at the tawny owl. It wasn’t Sirius’. Instead, it belonged to Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella.
Walburga quickly grabbed parchment, and Regulus watched as his mother’s curious expression transformed into disbelief and anger. Her fingers gripped the parchment until it began to wrinkle. “I don’t believe it!”
Orion looked at her warily. “What does it say?”
“Narcissa owled my brother and Druella with some news. According to Narcissa. Sirius has been sorted into Gryffindor!” Spittle sprayed the parchment, and Regulus could imagine smoke coming out of her nostrils. “How . . . how dare he?! How dare he bring disgrace to our name?” She turned and glared at Orion. “It’s all your fault! You’ve been too easy on him over the years!”
“My fault?” Orion snapped back, now slamming his own utensils down on the table, making the poor table rattle once more. “If anything, it’s your fault for acting like a harpy! Sirius is independent, like his father. You shouldn’t have tried so hard. It only pushed him away!”
As his parents shouted at each other, Regulus shrank down in his chair until he was almost off of it. He tried his best to tune the noises out, and he thought about Sirius’ sorting. With the way his brother had been acting lately, he should have seen this coming. In a way, it made perfect sense for his brother to be sorted into the house with the blood traitors, and he grew angry at how Sirius’ betrayal was causing more trouble between their parents.
By the time his parents had calmed down, Regulus had made a vow. He’d made a vow to not follow his brother’s path. After all, someone had to maintain the Black family’s reputation, and he was the only one left to do so.
He couldn’t help but feel a pang inside of him. Doing what his parents wanted would mean he and Sirius would never get along. Like that time when Sirius had accused him of telling their parents about David, Regulus was once more obligated to choose a side. Now, with certainty, Regulus finally made his choice.
1972 — Hogwarts
“Slytherin!”
Regulus jumped off the stool, after taking the hat off, and walked over to his cheering house-mates. He’d done it. He’d fulfilled his duties, and he was in Slytherin. Just like a real Black was supposed to do. Taking a seat, he glanced over at the Gryffindor table. Its occupants were quiet, and most of them had an apathetic expression; some wore sneers. But it was Sirius’ face he saw. His brother’s face was a picture of disgust, and Regulus felt his insides churn unpleasantly.
He knew this day was coming. Now that it had come, Regulus didn’t enjoy it as much as he thought he would. Instead, he knew that whatever chance he’d had to get on his brother’s good side was now gone.
However, he didn’t want his brother to know that. He didn’t want to appear weak to Sirius. So he sneered at his brother, and he then turned to his house-mates and accepted them as his new “family”.
1973 — Hogwarts
“You all right, Reg? Your skin’s our house colour . . . and I don’t mean silver.”
Regulus took a deep breath as he fought down his nausea. He forced a smile at Barty, his new best friend. Barty was only a first year, and even though Regulus was older, he and Barty clicked instantly when the former was sorted into Slytherin. Since their first night together, the two had been inseparable. “I’m fine. Just nervous.”
“Don’t be. You’re a good flyer, and you’ve been practising almost every day, so you’ll make the team! And with you on the team, we’ll beat the other houses in Quidditch! Your Seeker skills will be unrivalled!”
Regulus tried not to blush from Barty’s praises. Luckily, he was distracted when they bumped into Sirius and his friends.
Regulus watched Sirius’ grey eyes glance at the broom he was carrying.
“Trying out for Quidditch, are you?” Sirius drawled, as he smirked.
Tensing up, Regulus’ nausea was replaced with something akin to anger. “Yes,” he answered testily.
“So my ickle, little brother thinks he’ll be the new Seeker to bring the Slytherin team fame and glory, huh?” Sirius and James laughed while Remus and Peter stayed quiet.
“Oh, yeah. Too bad I’m not a Beater. Otherwise, I’d love the chance to smash a Bludger or two into your brother’s face . . . if he makes the team that is,” James said.
Infuriated, Regulus grabbed Barty’s wrist, and they edged around the group and dashed out to the Quidditch pitch. His brother’s scornful laughter rang in his head, and he determinedly said, “I’ll show him! And that Potter prat! I’ll show them that they should never mock us Slytherins.”
Barty nodded. “You can do it, Reg. I know you can.”
“I will!”
When his turn came, Regulus channelled his anger into energy and determination. He flew faster and better than before, and his sharp eyes flickered back and forth as he looked for the golden glint of the Snitch.
And he did it. He made the team, and he vowed to play his best and beat those Gryffindor pricks in every game he played against them.
1974 — Hogwarts
“I can’t wait until I’m in third year,” Barty said. “Then we could have fun in Hogsmeade together.”
Regulus grinned as he passed over some sweets he’d bought at Honeydukes. “Yeah. Then I won’t have to buy stuff for you and carry it. You can buy and carry your own stuff when we go next year,” he teased, but he didn’t mind. Barty was his best friend. He’d do anything for him.
They reached the lake’s dock and sat at the edge, letting their legs dangle above the murky waters. They ate their sweets in silence. After a few minutes of peace, in hushed tones, Barty said, “I’ve heard the older students talking about the Dark Lord.”
“You mean Lord Voldemort?” Regulus said quietly. “Yeah, I’ve heard about him.”
“What do you think of him?”
Pausing, Regulus sorted out what he knew of Lord Voldemort. He didn’t know much. He only knew that Lord Voldemort valued blood purity, and he’d heard rumours about Lord Voldemort wanting to get rid of Mudbloods and half-bloods from the wizarding world. He also heard of Lord Voldemort’s power, and he found himself attracted to all of it. He was especially attracted to the ideas of traditional principles and values. Things were changing too fast in the wizarding society. Muggle-borns were bringing their odd items into Hogwarts and changing what it meant to be a wizard. Lord Voldemort would surely put a stop to all that. “He fascinates me.”
“Me too. Nott told me about the Death Eaters. Would you ever join them?”
Regulus had heard about them as well. He’d heard about them because of Bellatrix. With Andromeda now not a part of the Black family because of that Mudblood she married, Bellatrix and Narcissa were the cousins he saw the most. Over the summer, he’d heard about Bellatrix praising Lord Voldemort. She’d joined the Death Eater, and she told him a lot about the group, and Regulus found himself wanting to join, too. “Bella told me about it a bit. I think I’d like to join. I can tell Bella we’re interested . . . do you want me to?”
Barty nodded eagerly, and Regulus’ enthusiasm grew. “Great!” Regulus exclaimed. “I’ll tell her. Maybe we can join and be the youngest Death Eaters ever. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Yeah! After all, we’re Slytherin. We’re pure-bloods. We’ve got to show those Mudbloods and those half-bloods who are the rightful wizards and witches.”
“I’ll owl her tonight. In the meantime, pass me another Chocolate Frog.”
1975 — The Hog’s Head
“Bella . . . is this really a good idea?” Regulus asked, peering over her shoulders to make sure nobody spotted them in the alleyway.
“Shut up!” Bellatrix hissed. “Let me cast a Disillusionment Charm on you two, so I can take you boys into the Hog’s Head.”
Regulus and Barty glanced at each other and remained quiet as Bellatrix cast the charm. She then led the way to the Hog’s Head, and they entered with no problems. They followed her to a dark corner, and there they met Lord Voldemort for the first time. Regulus’ breath hitched when Lord Voldemort stood up to greet them.
Lord Voldemort was tall. Not that Regulus was short, but Lord Voldemort just felt taller. He could feel power emanating from the man, and it felt tangible. He looked at Lord Voldemort’s face. It was a handsome face, with a smile that showed dimples and straight, white teeth. Lord Voldemort really was good looking, and Regulus felt attracted to him.
When he looked into Lord Voldemort’s dark brown eyes, he could see intelligence and cunningness lingering there. And when Lord Voldemort first spoke, his deep voice resonated in ways that sent shivers of lust down Regulus’ back.
“You must be Regulus and Barty,” Lord Voldemort said with a pleased smile. “I’m always happy to meet members of my former house. Let’s sit down.”
With awe, Regulus sat, and for the next hour or so, he could barely concentrate on what Lord Voldemort was saying. All Regulus knew was that he was going to join the Death Eaters as soon as possible. This, he thought, was his destiny. He’d be happy to serve someone this magnificent and powerful. Who needed half-bloods like Dumbledore? No, he’d follow this pure-blooded wizard to all ends of time.
1976 — Hogwarts
Regulus backed up against the wall, and he cursed to himself. Defiantly, he glared back at Crabbe and Goyle. They were Beaters on the Slytherin team. They’d just lost a game yesterday, and they were blaming Regulus.
“How could you let Prewett get that Snitch? Are you blind?” Crabbe demanded.
Regulus turned red at the accusation. He didn’t mean to let the Gryffindor Seeker get to the Snitch before him, but he did, and he felt regretful about it, but these two were making it sound like Regulus had done this on purpose. “Back off and leave me alone. Why didn’t you two smash that Bludger towards him? I bet you two couldn’t hit a bloody dragon with that kind of aim.”
“Shut up! You’re asking for a beating, and we’ll give it to you!” Goyle thundered, raising his fist. But before he could swing it, a deep voice rang out.
“What’s going on here?”
Behind Crabbe and Goyle was a Ravenclaw prefect. A boy named Kingsley Shacklebolt, if Regulus remembered correctly. All he knew was that Kingsley was a half-blood.
Crabbe and Goyle mumbled, “Nothing.”
Calmly, Kingsley said, “Detention, for the both of you. Report to Mr Filch tonight at seven. You may leave now.”
Regulus smirked at the way Crabbe and Goyle ran off, but then he was alone in the corridor with Kingsley, and unfortunately, he now owed Kingsley, which was something he did not want! He didn’t want to owe anybody anything — with the exception of Barty — and being in debt to a mere half-blood made him cranky.
A long silence passed, and Kingsley said, “You’re welcome.”
He could hear amusement in Kingsley’s voice, and he scowled. “I didn’t thank you.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“I don’t need to thank a half-blood like you,” Regulus snapped. He knew he was being rude, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t about to bow his head and play nice with a half-blooded prefect.
Kingsley cocked his head. “Does my blood status matter that much? We’re both human. Are we that much different?”
Regulus’ tirade stopped and all he could say was, “We just are.”
“We both bleed when injured. We both need food and water. We’re both capable of casting the same spells,” Kingsley said wisely.
Regulus shifted uncomfortably. What Kingsley said made sense, but he wasn’t ever going to admit that. “It matters, okay?” Stiffly, he forced himself to look at Kingsley’s face. He felt a sense of calm come over him, and he wondered why. Was Kingsley that much more powerful than him because of his blood status? Or was it because of his prefect status? Regulus wasn’t sure, but he shoved these conflicting thoughts aside, and he grudgingly said, “Thank you.”
“Here,” Kingsley said, handing him some library books. “Will you return these to the library for me? I’d appreciate it.”
This was Kingsley’s way of clearing Regulus’ debt. Regulus quickly accepted it, and he nodded. Kingsley left, and Regulus was alone with a pile of books. He stared at them, realising that Kingsley had given him an easy way out, and he felt cheated. The pure-blood traditionalist inside of him knew that this was not enough to cover the debt, but he somehow knew that Kingsley really didn’t expect much, and Regulus was disturbed by that fact. Why hadn’t Kingsley demanded something more from him? Why didn’t Kingsley use the opportunity?
“Honourable gits,” Regulus spat out in the deserted corridor. “That’s all they are. They are the weaker and inferior ones. It’s their faults they don’t take advantage of power!”
1977 — Somewhere in Hogsmeade
Losing his balance from the Portkey’s effect, Regulus fell, the sharp pebbles digging into his stomach and the palms of his hands. Glancing around, he saw that he was in one of Hogsmeade’s dark alleyways. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees and promptly vomited all over the dirt road. The pain in his left arm was secondary only to his pounding head, and he could feel tears streaming down his face as he continued retching up everything in his stomach.
What he had seen tonight was terrifying. He had to watch Lord Voldemort and his most loyal followers torture helpless Muggles. He rolled over onto his side, and he brought his hands up to cover his ears. He tried his best to block out all the screaming and the begging he had witnessed. He shut his eyes to erase the horrified expression on the Muggles’ faces — he just wanted to forget it all.
Worst of all, for his own initiation, he had to torture a small child who had looked to be no older than five. Of all the cries and screams he heard tonight, this child’s anguish was truly horrible — enough to make him re-think his decision. Somehow, though, he went with it. Pointing his wand, his voice low and guttural, he had said, “Crucio!”
He didn’t know how many times he said that spell. He didn’t want to remember.
He didn’t even know how he felt about Lord Voldemort anymore. What he saw tonight was not the same charismatic man he’d met two years ago. What had replaced that man tonight was something non-human, something with power and authority, but something Regulus was now frightened of.
Before he started sobbing, a goat bleeted out, and he heard a rough voice say, “Lumos.”
The sudden brightness made Regulus turn away. As he adjusted his eyes, he looked up and saw a familiar, old wizard. It was the owner of the Hog’s Head.
“Aren’t you one of those crazy lads always hanging off Tom Riddle’s every word? And always under some Disillusionment Charm? Why in Merlin’s name are you out here disturbing my goats?”
Startled, Regulus reached out with his left arm to grab something to pull himself up. The old wizard glanced at his arm, and Regulus realised that his Dark Mark showed. Quickly, he stood up and pulled his robe sleeve down.
The old wizard exhaled loudly. “I see. You’re one of them. Another young, pure-blood fool joining up with the biggest hypocrite of this century.”
Despite his horrible night, Regulus hated being called a fool. Against his better judgement, he retorted, “I’m not a fool, you . . . you ancient goat lover!”
“That is not my name, boy. The name’s Aberforth, so if you’re going to address me, get it right, you silly nitwit!”
Regulus swiped at his face, wiping away the tear stains, and he glared at Aberforth. “Stop insulting me!”
“Then wise up, boy! Why are you hanging around with that Riddle? Is it because you believe in Riddle’s so-called agenda to get rid of those who aren’t pure-blood? If so, like I said, you’re a fool.”
Turning around, Aberforth started to walk out of the alleyway, and Regulus bit back another retort that nearly escaped him. Instead, he felt as if a goat had rammed into his head, and he sank back to the ground on his knees, cradling his throbbing head in his hands. Groaning, he heard footsteps coming back towards him, and he saw Aberforth hovering over him. “Go away,” he mumbled.
Aberforth exhaled another monstrous sigh, and he said, “Come on in. You can sleep in my place for the night. Hope you’ve slept on hay before. It might make you get itchy in certain places.”
Regulus felt strong arms — at least strong for someone quite old — helping him up, and next thing he knew, he was being thrown onto a pile of hay. Even though he knew he had to go back to Hogwarts — Barty, who wouldn’t get initiated until next month, was waiting for him — as soon as his body hit that pile of hay, he went to sleep.
Instead of sleeping well like he’d hoped, he was plagued by the most appalling nightmare ever. In his nightmare, it recurred tonight’s events with him torturing the child. Only, instead of the child . . . he was torturing Sirius.
In his dream, it wasn’t the screams that affected him deeply. Instead, it was the look of betrayal on Sirius’ face that made him feel sick. And all Sirius would say was “Why?” Sirius never once told him to stop like the child had begged. That was all Sirius did.
Shocked and still feeling queasy from everything, Regulus got up before dawn and crept out, leaving a hasty ‘thank you’ message in the dirt. As he snuck into Hogwarts, Regulus hoped that he could just get on with his life, forget about last night’s atrocity, and be proud of his achievement of becoming an official Death Eater.
1978 — The Hog’s Head
“You look like shite, boy,” Aberforth said, plunking down a tumbler of Firewhisky. “Drink up. You already look like shite, so this will only make you shine like one of those Dungbombs you children like to waste money on.”
Regulus grabbed the tumbler and grunted, “Thanks.” Since last year, somehow or another, he’d become “friends” with this old wizard. Regulus had to admit that Aberforth was quite a crabby old coot who liked goats way too much, but despite Aberforth’s royal grumpiness, Regulus had started to respect him — albeit grudgingly.
“Still having that nightmare?”
Regulus nodded and took a sip of the Firewhisky.
“What about that friend of yours? That junior boy? You and he still inseparable?”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you so quiet? As you young people say, ‘What’s got your knickers in a twist’?”
” . . . I don’t wear knickers.”
“I would hope not.” Aberforth let out a low chuckle.
Regulus drained the entire tumbler, and his throat protested, and he started to cough, tears filling his eyes.
“You must be a masochist,” Aberforth noted.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Regulus asked quietly.
“Tell you what?”
“About Riddle’s true heritage.”
“I gave you a hint last year. It’s not my fault it took you this long to realise it.”
Regulus scowled and looked around the empty place. Last week, Lord Voldemort had requested to borrow Kreacher for a worthy cause. Only thing was, Kreacher had been mistreated badly. With that and with the discovery of Lord Voldemort’s half-blood status, he remembered the incident with Kingsley. Then there was the nightmare-that-refused-to-die, the same nightmare he’d been having every night.
He was nearing the edge of insanity, and he found himself telling Aberforth everything.
“I don’t know what to do anymore. I just don’t,” Regulus whispered. “And . . . I wish things were back to way it was with Sirius. I . . . I miss him as a brother.”
Aberforth rubbed the ends of his beard. “Well, if you want change, lad, you have to do it yourself.”
“How?!” Regulus burst out. “I can’t just walk up to Headmaster Dumbledore and ask for his help!”
“Oh, for the love of Billy the Goat! Why ever not?”
“I just can’t.”
“Then ask me.”
“What?” Regulus blinked. “You?”
Aberforth poured some more Firewhisky into Regulus’ tumbler. “I think you’re going to need some more of this because I’m about to tell you something.”
Regulus raised his eyebrows. “What? That you study goat fornication?”
“You have a strange sense of humour, lad. I’m about to tell you my last name. It’s Dumbledore.”
Choosing that moment to take a sip, Regulus spewed it all back out. “What?!”
“I’m offering you a chance to come help the Order. I won’t tell you how to do it. It’s up to you. If you want to help, say it. If not, I will have no choice but to Obliviate you.”
Regulus’ eyes narrowed. “Do you trust me that much to even offer this choice to me? You know I’m a Death Eater. Why would you even bother to help me . . . considering you’re somehow related to the leader of the Order.”
“Because I trust my judgement. And,” Aberforth paused before he gruffly said, “you’re all right, lad. You’re a bit of a fool, but I know you’re all right.” Standing up, he gave Regulus a small smirk. “I’ve got to tend Billy, Willy, and Dilly. Think about it.”
Left alone with his drink, Regulus stared off into space. He knew deep inside that Lord Voldemort was a madman, a hypocritical bastard who only wanted power for himself and who was seeking immortality. But could he really betray Lord Voldemort? Could he really be brave like a Gryffindor and help out the Order somehow? Or should he just be resourceful and continue to support Lord Voldemort through his horrendous agenda? After all, what if Lord Voldemort did win and take over the wizarding world? Or what if his nightmare did come true? Would he really have to torture and kill Sirius? Or could he somehow avoid all that by joining the Order?
There was always that other possibility that the Order would win instead . . .
Regulus sighed and drank some more Firewhisky, and he slowly pondered over the pros and cons of each choice.
By the time Aberforth came back, Regulus had made his decision.
1979 — Horcrux Cave
Lifting his head up, Regulus forced himself to his hands and knees. He couldn’t give up now. He had to finish this. He had to succeed. Had to for the Order’s — no, for Aberforth’s — sake. Had to for Barty. Had to for Kreacher. And most of all, he had to succeed for Sirius. He wanted Sirius’ love back.
His heart beat rapidly now, and it hurt to breathe as he crawled slowly towards the boat.
“Water . . . ” He desperately wanted it. A drop would feel like heaven to him. Surely, one drop from that murky lake wouldn’t hurt?
He edged himself closer to the water, ignoring the nagging in the very back of his head. He knew there was something important about the lake, but he couldn’t remember. His mind felt too sluggish. Shutting his eyes, to keep those unwanted visions away, he reached out with his hand. He felt the cool wetness at his fingertips. Forcing a pained smile, he brought his hand close to his lips.
There were sounds of loud splashes, and the cave reverberated, the vibration hurting him more. Ignoring the sudden screeching that encompassed him, he gripped his wand tightly. In a light voice, he said “I can do this, Sirius. I can. I’ll make you proud.”