King of Swords [ Regulus Black ]

Chapter 26

The effects take hold at a resounding pace. The wizengamot and parliament floor immediately split in two. It doesn't matter how many officials are ignorant to what is happening. For every witch reaching for her wand to defend the public, there are three deatheaters descending onto the stage.

Screams erupt through the crowd. Bodies fall to the ground, trampled under foot by the masses running for the exits. They cannot disaparate in here, the only way out is through the atrium. I am angry at their cowardice, it is an unfair thought, I know. Yet, they abandon their peers so easily to head for higher ground. These magical folk can secure their children, take port keys to the siberian wilderness and hunker down. The muggles who will be inflicted however, don't stand a damn chance.

I hold my ground, despite the forces of panic jilting me back. Haro is still on the stage wearing an expression that is half guilt and part pride. I grip my wand in one hand and the dagger in another. The moment a break in the crowd is formed, I start pushing forward.

My feet are nearly to front when I am thrown off balance by Fromona Yaxley grabbing my ankle from beneath the stage curtain. I kick at her, but miss. She is pleading with her eyes at me, holding a finger to her lips. I don't know if she wants me to help her leave or if she is simply impeding justice but I don't care either way.

Once I am upright, I peer about the room. Regulus is to my right against the wall, casting avada's with a wicked sneer. The emerald light hits a woman in the chest. As she falls, he catches sight of me.

Haro is still on the stage, whispering something to Lucius. It is now that I have to make a choice.
If I can get to Haro, I might be able to put the dagger in his gut before Lucius can kill me. If I go to Regulus, I am surely dead but I might be able to take him with me.

Despite my rage, I cannot assume I would be strong enough to cast a killing curse. A dagger is only useful is close proximity. I can make it to Haro, I know I can.

I pull myself onto the stage with my elbows. Every manner of combat training I have received runs through my head. I move at a calculated pace, as much as I want to sprint, I can't draw any more attention to myself.

A Deatheater aparates before me. I hold the wand and dagger behind my back, smiling at him. My act of camaraderie seem's to work, he turns away and continues to cast in fluid motions.

I can't look into the crowd because my eyes are locked on the men. But also, because every time I do I see someone else fall. The thuds and gasps are bad enough, ringing in my ears like a cacophony of terror.

Haro's eyes find me then. It looks as if he is going to move toward me but falters at the last moment. The betrayal is painted on my face, he barely balks at it.

I am going to kill you, I whisper. He only shakes his head sullenly in return.
I forgo my will to remain unseen and start to sprint. He is feet away from me when I am grabbed by the wrist from behind.

The sharp tug pulls me back and I slide across the floor to the other end of the stage. Regulus is thundering toward me, eyes narrowed, war in his expression. I pull myself up and stalk toward him, gripping the dagger harder. Screw the wand, I want him to suffer.

"I told you to stay away!" He scolds.

"You are a filthy fucking liar," I spit back, "you knew this entire time."

"What do you think you're going to do, huh?" He fires, swagger growing in his step, "you gonna kill me, muggle?"

Ideally, yes. Regulus has his wand raised but seems reluctant to cast. As the space closes between us, I lift my dagger but he is faster. The avada cascades over my shoulder and lands on a deatheater behind me. I can't imagine he meant to do that, but it gives me a moment of opportunity.

I slice through the air with the dagger gripped. It doesn't puncture his arm, but makes a slit in the cloak. Blood oozes past fabric and forms droplets on the floor.

Regulus is stricken, I can feel his anger rising in my own body. I step back as he jolts forward to grab me.
On the other side of the stage, Haro is taking to leave. He throws me a weary glance as he is pulled away but ultimately offers me to the wolves.

I make my movements quick, diving around Regulus before he can touch me.
"You have cursed us all," I spit at him, "if you had told me, I could have stopped it."

Regulus laughs, low and bemused.
"You couldn't have done a fucking thing, Callan."

It is a falsity. True, I put my faith in men, hoping that they might forge walls of safety. But it was I that landed Haro on this stage in the first place. I, that conspired and killed his way through the ranks. There is nothing I am incapable of. That thought at one time terrified me so deeply that I tucked it away. Now I relish in it.

I am about to dive toward Regulus again when a killing curse breaks past us. We both turn toward the source. From the center of the floor a young man with long black hair is holding his wand like a pistol. They are similar in every facet but age, the same raven waves, same sharp features.

Regulus looks at him, and then at me. I feel the sorrow of his emotions well within me as a shock of betrayal grows in Regulus' face. It seems I am not the only one who has been forsaken this evening.
Regulus casts a stunner at the boy, but he dodges it.

In one swift movement, Regulus grabs at my arm and nearly pulls it from the socket. He casts me from the stage and onto the floor. I catch myself mid-roll. If I had fallen less gracefully, the dagger would have punctured a lung.
When I look back, he is breaking through the glass ceiling in a puff of black smoke.

The other raven haired boy lifts me by my shoulders. Countering spells from every direction, he drags me through the auditorium and into the atrium. I should have the decency to ask for his name, this man who is saving my life, but I can't manage to find any words.

My heart is broken. My body aches. I am filled with rage and it is seeping out.

Screams are still resounding over the atrium walls as people disaparate en masse. I look for Maslin, for Riverina, but every face is blurred in a flurry of panic. Finally, my eyes land on a familiar figure.

"Thank you," I choke out as I let go of the stranger. His worried gaze lingers until I am in the arms of Barty Crouch Jr.

I don't know who I can trust anymore, but in my panic I am willing to bet on this one.

-

Unfortunately, I seem to be quite bad at gambling.

"Why?" I ask Barty, peering around a candle-lit room I don't recognize. There are burns marks on the walls, the floor is sunken in multiple places. The only furniture that remains is a worn lounge chair and a sofa that is more ash than wood.

Evan Rosier is standing with his arms over the back of the sofa. Below him, Regulus is having his wounded arm patched up by a very angry Mina Parkinson.

Barty shifts on his feet before me with a pained expression. "I took his place."

His place, Maslin's place.

When Mina drops her hold on Regulus and thunders toward me, I relax my body and crack a smile. This seems to make her rage grow. To my surprise, she doesn't procure her wand but reels her fist back instead.

I am laughing as her hand cracks against my temple. My face still wears a smile when I hit the ground. Mina is stronger than she looks. Nothing more fearsome than a woman who doesn't rely on magic alone.
I would chuckle more, but black dots are overtaking my vision.

It's just sort of funny, watching the world burn.