The Journal of Regulus Arcturus Black

Chapter 33. New Leaders

Dear Regulus,

Did I ever tell you that you see someone when you try to destroy the horcrux? As it turned out the way to open up Slytherin's Locket was by using parselmouth. I opened it; having memorised a few phrases here and there before it opened with a click and out came some sort of black fog. It was a similar situation with Hufflepuff's Cup, just overflowing with black, ink-like liquid.

I kept seeing you Regulus. I kept seeing your face, your subconscious from beyond the fucking grave, telling me to stop. Urging me to not destroy the one thing that would allow me to see you. It's a very telling horcrux, it can see your deepest desires and biggest fears. I didn't know how much I wanted to meet you until a horcrux version of yourself stood before me.

You commented on how far I had come, how different yet similar we looked and I was weak godfather. I don't even know who you are, had never known what you were like in the living and yet I was emotional the moment I saw you. Can I miss someone I've never met before? Am I allowed the privilege to mourn you, to give you my first feelings of grief having not known you in the living?

Can I love you, truly?

Headmaster Dumbledore died and all these thoughts were contaminating my mind. Mourning Dumbledore is different to the way I mourn you. Do I even grieve over you, wholly? Or maybe I don't feel the same way because I never truly trusted Dumbledore in the living.

You seem so permanent in my mind, like a casual friend I can always rely on. I feel you in my magic, the residual fuel that sparks my will to fight. I don't think I would have changed my stance in this war if it were not for you godfather. I'd like to say that I've made the right decision but I don't know if I'd have done the things I did without your influence. So what part of this is actually me?

I probably sound so bloody insecure right now. This is going to be another really sad letter to write. When did I decide to start spewing out poetry like someone of any artistic vision? Really, the world has completely tipped sideways. Just claw your eyes out and try to forget everything I just said.

It would serve us both well I think,

Your embarrassed godson,

Draco Black.

***

Draco, Luna and Thomas were standing outside of the regular King's Cross and St. Pancras station, wearing a bag full of clothing that William and Fleur bought for them. They were all under polyjuice potion, something that Granger had on hand for herself and Potter's group. Draco had to admit, if he was prepared for the upcoming war, then Granger was twice as ready.

He turned to Harry and the others, giving them a queasy smile. "Well then, I guess this is it."

"Why did you say that as if you're going to die?" Weasley, currently sporting a long beard and bright red tracksuit, asked.

Draco rolled his eyes and walked over to Harry, polyjuiced to look like a tourist. He was in the full 'I ♡ LONDON' t-shirt with an awful fanny pack and board shorts. "You look horrendous," Draco said firmly, much to Harry's amusement.

"Don't mind him," Luna said. "He gets sarcastic and crude when he's emotional."

"Luna, I'm always emotional."

"I know," she replied, chirpy as ever.

Draco sighed, looking down at Harry. "So... Gringotts?" he asked. After much debating (which was really a lot of arguing and going back and forth between both groups about who should look for the next horcrux) it was decided that Draco would check the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts whilst Harry would check Gringotts.