Fatal Sun - Harry Potter

𝖎𝖝. the cliffside

One of the dark lord's closest and oldest trustees, Abraxas Malfoy, had been talking about the re-birth of the inferius in Malfoy Manor, many years ago. Regulus, who had been drawn to the Dark Arts from a young age, had begun to study them in Grimmuald places ancient library, yet to no avail could he find them. His curiosity eventually led him to the restricted section of Hogwarts, where he found books detailing the archaic art of necromancy. It was a discipline so taboo that not even the darkest wizards would touch it. That was until Grindelwald came. He ignored every written and unwritten rule of magic, he defied the necessary boundaries of their world, and he played God with the dead. It was well known that Grindelwald essentially paved the way for the rise of Lord Voldemort, so it only made sense that Tom felt the need to enlist the undead to protect a part of his soul, which Regulus now had.

Regulus had dried himself with a spell but the sea salt sprayed over the cliffs as waves crashed down below him. He was moving like an apparition, elegantly traversing the rocky shore. 

Regulus turned many thoughts over in his head as he reeled from his victory, and as they normally did, it led him back to his brother. It had been many years since Sirius left, but the wound still felt raw and fresh, reopening anytime he revisited a memory. Regulus knew that he made the only choice he could and that Sirius was always destined to escape. Although, that didn't mean Regulus couldn't resent Sirius for it, which he did. Regulus had always made the right choices, staying loyal to himself and his family. Whilst Sirius chooses a new family, defied his values, and went off on his own. Regulus was reaping the consequences for doing what he was 'supposed' to do, whilst Sirius was on the right side of history and would proudly die for his cause. In the back of his mind, Regulus felt cowardly for surviving. At least his martyrdom would prove something, to himself and his brother, because Regulus still wasn't sure how or why he was doing this. He supposed he wanted to prove something to himself, which is why he continued up the cliff, embarking on a suicide mission to destroy every last Horcrux. 

🌞🌞🌞

  THE halls of Hogwarts were already alight with talk of the tournament. Students were eagerly buzzing about the corridors, and seventh years were burning with anticipation at the prospect of becoming a champion. The school had seen nothing like this for hundreds of years, and while nothing was ever completely mundane at Hogwarts, the repetitive monotony of everyday life was broken. Thus, the students were rowdier than usual and the professors have given up on assigning homework and exams for the upcoming week, so they had their weekend free of any stress. 

Circe had hardly been able to focus herself on assignments, she too, was rapidly anticipating the choosing of the champions.  She already knew Viktor would be the champion for Durmstrang, Karkaroff had forbidden any of his other students from entering. She also knew that Fred and George Weasley were cooking up something (Kat & Este as well, by extension). She had seen the little blonde first-year scurrying through the hallways with some sort of loot from the potions classroom. Luckily, Filch hadn't caught her, or else she would've been in detention for weeks (not to mention her having some newfound controversy with Snape). Este winked at her and vanished around the corner. Circe already knew she'd be collecting two galleons from Hannah Abbott later that night. 

Circe and Emrys had agreed to meet in the great hall around lunchtime since they had both stayed up late the night previous. They noticed that most of the student body had made themselves at home at their house tables, watching as their housemates went to put their names in. Emrys quickly spotted Cedric and his group of seventh-year friends, the elder boy waved the pair over.