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"Be one of us tonight."
The pale moonlight streaming in through the partly drawn curtains splashes over the tearstained cheeks of the black haired boy who lies sprawled on his bed, legs raised up to rest on the wall, while his head hangs over the edge of the bed. It isn't a particularly comfortable position, but Regulus couldn't care less.
Several minutes, or maybe hours, later, he finds strength to raise his hand and wipe away the wetness that glitters on his face. With agonizing slowness, as though each breath of movement causes him pain, Regulus sits up on his bed and gets his left hand closer to him. Slowly and fearfully, he draws his sleeve back. The skull with a snake for a tongue stares back at him, laughing at him, mocking.
Wiping his face to remove any evidence of weeping, he extracts his wand from the pocket of his robes and gets to his feet. The last time he had cried was when his brother, Sirius, had snuck into his room in the middle of the night to tell him that he was leaving. He couldn't believe it then. But as Regulus now stands in front of the door that leads to Sirius's bedroom, it finally occurs to him that Sirius is really, truly gone.
For the first few weeks after his departure, Regulus had foolishly hoped that he would return, that he wouldn't, he couldn't, leave him alone at the wretched place, with parents who hardly ever spoke to him. He had snuck furtive glances at the Gryffindor table during dinner, looked around while crossing the corridors between classes, hoping, even believing, that Sirius would show signs of regret at his decision. But he didn't. He looked happy, more than happy, with his three friends. Sirius didn't care.
He had never cared.
Pushing thoughts of his brother to the back of his mind - the part that was already overfilled with happy memories of them playing and laughing, the part that was slowly leaving his mind, leaving only bits and snippets of memories behind that he had to rack his head to remember - Regulus holds his wand in order to go to the appointed place, where he is supposed to meet the death eaters to know about his mission.
As he apparates to the Lestrange Manor, he is greeted by none other than the Dark Lord himself. Regulus recoils, thinking of the secret he had discovered, how the Dark Lord keeps himself invulnerable. But he also knows that the Dark Lord is good in Legilimency. Regulus has to keep his mind closed.
"We have been informed that Dorcas Meadowes has been getting information about our plans from unknown sources, Regulus," the Dark Lord speaks, voice drawling and silky, a slight caress of emotion subtly hidden in his tone, which, Regulus is certain, is false. "Tonight, there will be an attack at a muggle gathering. No doubt, the Order members will arrive. Your job will be to kill Meadowes. Show me that you are worthy of being a death eater. Be one of us tonight."
Regulus can only nod.
✓
Walking into the battlefield is a pain in itself, for the first person he sees just happens to be Sirius, back to back with Remus Lupin, fighting valiantly. His other friend, James Potter is duelling two death eaters at once, and the red haired muggleborn girl is fiercely shooting spells at a few death eaters and covering for Peter Pettigrew who is slightly slow in his attempts at duelling.
Regulus swallows the lump that forms in his throat, thinking, despite being the golden child of the Black family, how he was always overshadowed by Sirius. Sirius was the braver one, the smarter one, the more beautiful one. But unlike the countless times before, he doesn't feel envious. Instead, his chest swells with pride.
Regulus knows how to defeat the Dark Lord. But he needs one more piece of information and he can't get that if he doesn't complete his mission tonight. He has to make himself trustworthy, walk into the inner circle of the most trusted death eaters, before using that trust to drag the Dark Lord down.
As he circulates between dueling partners, he finally lands in front of Dorcas Meadowes, a Ravenclaw girl who was in Sirius's year. Their eyes meet, and he feels that he can't do it.
He thinks of his brother, how he is fighting for a world he dreams of. Regulus isn't going to be a part of that world, whether or not he comes out alive, but at least he could remain in his mind as someone who did the right thing. Late, but eventually. Dorcas is just a sacrifice he has to make.
The words feel alien in his lips, rolling like venom in his tongue. A cold shiver shoots through his mouth as the syllables are uttered, and he gazes, as if in slow motion, as the dark haired girl's eyes widen infinitesimally, before she collapses limply to the ground.
He is one of them now.
✓
this was an entry to a contest that took place locally on facebook.
