The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix - Part Two

Stay Down

It was like whiplash. One moment he was sitting in the kitchen of the flat in London, the next he wasn't. Regulus was so disoriented and dizzy, his guard completely down, and he didn't even have time to come entirely to grips with the fact that he'd changed locations before he felt his arms grabbed roughly and he was lifted up so hard his shoulders made popping sounds and he felt like his arms were being ripped off, and before he knew it there was a whisper and jet of sparks hit him directly in the face, hard and forceful and his nose broke and blood burst onto his chest, dirtying the pyjamas he was wearing.

"That's for being a defiant ickle bastard," a low voice growled.

Another pugnus to the face and he felt his lip burst against his teeth and he spat blood onto the floor. One of his teeth had broken from that one and it lay on the floor before his feet.

"That's for fall I took from the library when your bleeding Mother disappeared the stairs." Regulus could smell Greyback, so pugnent was the scent of the repulsive man. "And this - this is for makin' my life a livin' hell the last three weeks while I've been tryin' at tracking you down."

A third pugnus hit Regulus, this one square to the jaw and temple and Regulus felt a zing that went through his whole skull from the hit, as though his brain was jolted by it, and he felt dizzy and lost his fotting, his legs giving out beneath him so he hung from the grip that held his arms so taut.

"Enough, Greyback," came a cold, regal voice.

Regulus felt the ringing of his head in his spine as a shiver that went through him at the sound of that voice. This is it, he thought, this is it. I'm going to die.

Voldemort hissed, "Rosier.. McNair... release him."

They did. Instantly. Without any prelude. Regulus's weak legs weren't prepared and he dropped to the floor like a stone, landing in the blood that had fallen from his mouth and nose and  his elbows scraped a cold stone floor.

There was a ringing silence.

Then, "Leave me with the boy."

The disappointment in the room was palpable as the three men departed.

Regulus struggled up from the floor to his feet, his knees shaking.

"I see you were not expecting to be facing me, were you boy!" Voldemort hissed. He walked slowly around Regulus, studying him. "You let down your guard and your mind is free for me to explore and I see many things now, Regulus, many truths you hid from me... You've been a very, very bad boy."

Regulus laughed, "What am I, five? You're talking to me like I'm a child."

A jet of magic hit him in the back of the knees, sending him crushing to the concrete beneath his feet without warning yet again. He let out a cry of surprise as his knees hit the floor.

"Don't you dare speak to your Lord like that again, boy!" Voldemort growled.

"You - you are not my Lord any longer." Regulus's voice trembled as he got up to his feet, balling his fists in defiance.

Voldemort hissed.

"Just get on with it. Just kill me if you're going to do it, stop playing mind games with me you old fool." Regulus had no idea where the strength came from to speak such words. But there they were - out in the universe, hanging between him and Voldemort, so heavy Regulus half believed he could see them.

"Oh I do wish your dear Mother was here to listen to this!" Voldemort whispered. "Whatever would she think?"

Regulus stiffened. His mind raced. What did that mean? What did that mean for Walburga? Did Voldemort mean she wasn't here in this place or here alive? And what would she think? What would she think? What would she have to say about Regulus standing stock straight before the Dark Lord and defying him? Last Regulus had seen her, she would have applauded the act, he thought, but had something changed? Had Walburga defected back to the side of the Dark Lord?