The Story of the Marauders

A Tale of Regulus Black Pt. 1

REGULUS

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The long corridor stretched before him in an endless length of dusty carpet and cracking splinters of wooden walls. It smelled dank, a permanent mustiness it the very walls. Regulus knew the manor had not been occupied in decades.

The boy ached in his bones. All he wanted was to sit in front of the emerald flame that flickered in the hearth of the living space on his left. But he had to keep straight-backed, for his weakness of heart would surely be clear to the eye if he did not.

He could not torture that man, let alone kill him out of cold blood. Regulus was told the man had information vital to a mission of upmost importance to Voldemort's 'great plan'. But the mortified expression on the old gentleman's face struck something in Regulus, ordering him to back out immediately. Regulus ran out of that room as soon as he realized all this was wrong. He'd had enough. Killing people was not what Regulus signed up for. Perhaps, Regulus didn't even know what he was signing up for. He only joined the Death Eaters to please his family and bring greatness upon his name. But this was not greatness. This was horror.

Finally the end of the hallway reached him, guiding him towards the door. His luck had changed drastically. A wave of new recruits were joining ranks; a colony of werwolves in Albania that Voldemort had scouts in contact with for many weeks. Their alpha was visiting, so all older, long-time members were to accompany the Dark Lord in a meeting to 'welcome' the monsters into their ranks. This truly was luck for Regulus. He was making his escape now. His leave of this old manor. His leave of this war.

Regulus went for the golden knob to the front entrance of the Riddle House, barely grasping it in his hand before a loud crack sounded directly above him on the second floor. A patter of bare feet alerted Regulus to the top of the staircase in the back of the foyer of the manor. Regulus took a deep breath and turned towards the racket with tentative care.

"Master Regulus! Master Regulus!" Kreacher, one the family elves, skidded to a stop after flinging himself down the stairs and tumbling at Regulus' feet. Regulus' heart both raced and sunk; if he wasn't already discovered for being a deserter, he for sure would be now.

"Kreacher, hush--"

"Master!" The elf wailed. Over the buzzing of the gas lamps Regulus heard the blood rushing in his ears. Kreacher raised his head out of Regulus' shoes with tears raining down his cheeks in waves. Regulus froze at the sight of him. The elf looked sickly: his thin arms were covered with welts. Kreacher's pale skin glistened with sweat.

"What happened to you?" Regulus breathed, leaning onto the door with a soft brush of his back. Kreacher sniffed before speaking.

"The cave, sir. The dreadful cave!"

"The Crystal Cave..." Regulus started aloud. "What did he do to you?"

"He tested new spells on Kreacher, master. Spells the like of which Kreacher has never seen before, master. They make Kreacher feel horrid." The elf shuddered as if to further prove his point. Regulus' face twitched into a snarl.

"We're leaving. Right now. Come, Kreacher," Regulus straightened once more and puffed out his collar, placing his hand on the door knob until Kreacher let out a short scream.

"The Dark Lord with kill Regulus and Kreacher both if he finds out,"

"That's why we have to leave! Now, come!" Regulus snapped. Kreacher open his mouth to comply but instead a loud, hacking gurgle came out. On impulse, Regulus launched at his house elf and pressed a hand over his mouth. Kreacher's outburst hit Regulus' hand with such force that Regulus picked up the elf and carried him to the cluttered kitchen a short distance away. Regulus willed the elf to be quiet.