Chapter Text
28th June 1979
The dull feeling of complete dejection that had always clouded Regulus’ life lifted slightly as the boat drew closer to the green glow - the only source of light.
His ears ached from the cold and the lake made no movement other than to lap cautiously in slow, suspicious shifts as the boat sauntered on. If there were any walls enclosing the space, they were not perceivable. The expanse of glassy darkness was so impressive that it seemed almost disrespectful, disrupting it as they were.
Kreacher was convulsing beside him, his hands grasping at his ears as if his intention was to rip them clean off. Regulus had never seen the elf in such a state, he hoped he would be up for whatever came next. As they closed in on the island, however, the elf’s restraint faltered.
“R- Regulus, for- forgive Kreacher, you- you aren’t th- thinking properly, p- poor mistress will be s- s- so up- upset,”
“Quiet, Kree,” Regulus managed, softly, as the green glow wrapped around them and the boat gave a final jolt.
Mistrusting Kreacher’s ability to steer clear of the water in the state he was in, Regulus scooped the elf up in his arms and settled him down gently only after his steps had eaten up the distance to the basin. Then, he crouched down stiffly to meet the elf’s eye and gave him a look which he hoped would act as a reminder of the instructions previously set.
Make sure I drink. Swap the lockets. Go home when you have finished the task.
Hide it. Destroy it if I do not return.
Do not tell anyone.
Whether the elf nodded out of his own free will or not didn’t matter. At last, Regulus summoned a goblet and renounced his wand to Kreacher, cringing at the way his own hands shook. He shot him a final tight smile in an attempt at reassurance before removing the bullet-shaped pill from his robe pocket and pushing it into the far corner of his mouth. Then, with an embarrassingly unsteady hand, the young Black started shoveling the liquid into his mouth, quickly; a haphazard attempt at delaying his own inevitable retaliation.
The delay between swallowing the liquid and the pain that followed was not a generous one. It was as if it had decided to transfigure into pure acid the moment it touched his tongue. Only now could Regulus comprehend the importance of experience; If he ever made it out of there alive, there would be no way to ever accurately articulate - no way for anyone to understand - this kind of torture.
Regret like he’d never felt it, fear like he’d never felt it. He was aware of every part of his body, that every part that could feel pain did so. It triggered something inside him, discourteous in the way it unearthed memories he’d intentionally and so very passionately suppressed. The familiar look of pleasure on his mother’s face at her exceptional curse-work being put to use against her own sons. His father’s broad hands pressing relentlessly against the temples of his head. And God, was this predictable. He would somehow always be tediously inseparable from his childhood.
It wasn’t just visions he was experiencing. It wasn’t even memory, it was the versions of the memories at their worst, amplified by the guilt and regret that he normally only felt afterwards, on reflection, but all at once. It overcame him, burying him, blinding him. His brother was writhing in agony in front of him, jerking ferally, and Regulus was doing nothing but watch.
“M— more, Regulus, just a bit more.”
He was disorientated, and checking that he had not swallowed the pill between swigs was getting harder. Somewhere in the far distance he could hear fragments of Kreacher reciting the words Regulus had told him to say - the ones he had hoped might ground him. They meant nothing to him, now, in this moment.
“One more, Regulus, p-please” the elf wept. He was too sore to hate Kreacher for forcing the poison down his throat once he himself had stopped. Too sore, even, to realise when it was all gone.
The pain didn’t cease immediately, and when it finally cleared enough for his sight to return, it was replaced with something else. Something he couldn’t quite shape into a coherent thought. He watched through watery eyes as Kreacher’s bony fingers closed around the necklace and stared at the young Black before a loud crack meant that he had gone.
Regulus’ hand was in the lake before he had time to realise that what he was experiencing was a deep, strangling thirst.
The consequence of the relief brought by the cool water touching his lips was immediate. Scalps rose from the lake, illuminated only by the glow of the island. A wet hand snaked around his wrist. He made no protest or attempt to resist, though the Inferi did not appear to sense his submission, for they dragged him under in frantic surges. One seized his throat with a single, viscid fist and pushed him down with unnecessary urgency until his spine hit the bottom.
The audience of eerily expressionless faces twisted, but the creatures became strangely inactive. He supposed they had good reason to believe he would drown any second now. Would it be so bad if he did? Kreacher would destroy the locket once he got back, Regulus had compelled him to.
But he could hold his breath no longer, and at last he unearthed the pill from the corner of his mouth and bit down, hard. There wasn’t a moment left for Regulus to wonder if it had worked or not; the effects were immediate. He became pure energy - felt himself separate into four distinct entities of light and yet he was as one. He had half expected the depth of the lake to extinguish him - in truth, he had almost completely decided that this would happen. But the lake parted in outrage and the bodies imprisoning him were thrust aside, spoiled beyond restoration by immense floods of light.
The door did not request a blood sacrifice on his return. He left a neat, flaming trail behind him, retracing the path he came from until he had gone farther than he had apparated from and recognised where he was no longer.
With one final burst of flames, Regulus finally burned out. Far from the cave.