The Long Lost Black

Midnight Thoughts

Regulus is lying on what used to be Sirius' bed. The mattress is hard and uncomfortable. One of the million ways Walburga used to torment his brother. But he didn't care. This room was restricted to him and everyone else. He didn't care about it either. This was Sirius' room. This is the only way Regulus can feel close to him. He can feel safe and loved. Regulus breathes in Sirius' sent and cologne that hovers in the room. He is whole again. For now. If he could, he would spend that particular night in Elaisa's room too. Unfortunately, after she was sent away, her room was destroyed. That bitch Walburga...

Regulus stares at the ceiling. He hates his life. Why can't he just... die already? Why can't he just free himself from all the misery of the darkness by swallowing the sweet venom of death? What is it that holds him back? Once dead... he won't be there to see, face, or live the consequences of his actions on his family, his real family. So what is it? Why is he stopping himself from being redeemed? It was supposed to be easy. He only had to piss off the one-who-must-not-be-named. Or his parents. Or, to speak ill of Voldermort in front of Bella. But no... Regulus does not deserve to die. No. Everyone is so... keen on keeping him alive that he could call Voldermort "Mudblood" and he would have no consequences.

Why?

Just let me die.

"Why?"

He knows why. He just doesn't want to admit it to himself. His mind wanders back to the day he and Sirius were reunited. Back to the January of 1977. " If it wasn't for you or Elaisa, I would have killed myself by now " he had said. That... that feeling of... self-destruction was gone for a long amount of time. For five whole months, Regulus felt safe and whole. He had escaped. But now... now everything is even worse. Now, his nephew's life is at stake.

The Dark Lord wants that baby. He sees Arty as his next best soldier, once he has grown enough. Can you imagine it? A baby boy being raised by that monster like a killing machine? No childhood. No love. No caresses. Only darkness and cruelty. And a boy as pure as Arty... it would be heartbreaking.

What could Regulus do? Voldermort wants Arty. Voldermort wants Regulus to bring Arty to him. How twisted is that? How can he betray his family like that? How can he give his nephew that cold future?

"Aaaah!" Regulus screams at the ceiling. He is so overwhelmed by everything that is going on. He hates it. He hates everything, He just wants to die. He has to die. This is the only way to free himself from the Dark Lord's chains now.

That's it.

Regulus has a twisted idea but an idea, nevertheless.

Death.

Voldermort is unstoppable but he is not immortal. But he has let others believe that he is. How so? What has he done?

The library. Voldermort always uses the Black Family's library. What could it be there? Regulus has read every single book. What kind of magic could have made Voldermort immortal?

Hide the object.

Where master?

Somewhere safe. Your safe.

Yes, master.

It is an object. An object hidden in Lucious' safe. An object? The philosopher stone? No... Flamel has that in his possession. An object.

An object.

Shit!

No way.

He didn't.

Of course, he did.

He is crazy.

How many though?

What do I know? What do I know? Pureblood. Maniac. Magic. Magic Numbers! 3-7-9-10-11-13

Voldermort is arrogant, he wouldn't stop at three. Nine and over is deadly. Seven. There must be seven parts of his soul.

Seven.

Seven Horcuxes.

Dear God. 

Dear God.