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Track Nine: My Little Dark Age, MGMT
IN THE rocky cliffs of north Devon, a small seaside town resides at a distance from tourism and any other outside influences. It's stayed stuck in time for centuries. With two pubs, a small post office, and an even smaller inn run by a little old lady. The inn hadn't seen many visitors in the last ten or so years, only a few stray folks who were too drunk to walk home or some out-of-towners who thought they booked a night in the more popular Clovelly which resides a solid twenty miles south of them. Needless to say, a completely drenched young man in thick robes makes for a very odd occurrence in their town.
Regulus Black would like to make one thing straight. When he woke up from his near-death experience in Tom Riddles's cave he did not purposely seek out a muggle rather, a muggle found him. He had been planning the second stage of his Horcrux hunting expedition for some time now, it required a great deal more thought and risk than his quest to get the locket. As far as he knows thus far, Voldemort has at least three: Salazar Slytherin's locket, Rowena Ravenclaws diadem, and Helga Hufflepuff's goblet. He honestly could not foresee himself living past getting these, let alone if there were more. His hair was sopping wet, dark curls dripping water down his ornately carved cheekbones and over his hollowed eyes. His face had broken through the surface of the water, he gasped for breathe as Kreacher's small slimy hand wrapped itself around his. Immediately, the house elf apparated the pair towards the rugged coastline. In the shadow of an abandoned lighthouse, Regulus sat quietly in thought as the small elf healed the cuts littered across his legs from the venomous teeth and nails of Inferni. His breathe was strained, it felt as though his lungs were breathing through fire.
The waves crashed violently over the rocks, spraying the pair lightly with sea salt. A coughing fit shook his thin frame as he accidentally took a gulp of seawater from the ocean spray. He brushed Kreacher off of him and uttered a set of very important instructions, enclosing a small rusted locket into his hands and sending him off to Grimmuald Place. Regulus still wasn't completely aware of what he was doing but this same scenario had been played out in his head so many times that the movements were almost instinctual.
The thin murky fog that so closely resembled the sharp color of his eyes now seemed to enclose the world around him. He made his way up the jagged cliff, following a thin and windy trail that traversed its rough terrain. He was headed towards the nearest village, in hopes of finding somewhere to stay. He was engrossed in his thoughts, wondering where he would go next. His extensive planning did not go further than his entrance into the cave, he didn't see the need when the likelihood of his survival was slim to none. He had known of the dark lords Inferi long before he had encountered them in person.
