The Marauders: Year Six Part 2 #Wattys2017

Uncultured Swine

"What is it?" Regulus asked, and he felt inside of him a stirring notion of worry. Something was wrong, something bad had happened. His first, immediate thought was of Kreacher. That old elf certainly was along in years, perhaps something had happened - perhaps Kreacher was dead. He felt a welling of panic and worry rise up in him as he tried to recall what the last thing he had said to Kreacher was - only just an hour ago he'd been playing gobstones on the floor of his dormitory and ---

Regulus stopped.

Surely, news of a dead house elf would take more than an hour or two to reach him through Horace Slughorn. No, this couldn't be it. Honestly, it would probably take longer than an hour for Walburga to even notice that anyting was missing, should Kreacher die. Regulus imagined Kreacher's stinking, rotting body laying about Number 12 for days while Walburga screeched what an unnecessary waste of space the old elf was. That seemed a far more likely scenario than did Slughorn coming to tell Regulus of his dead servant, who only Regulus considered important at all.

All these thoughts going through his head stopped him from the moment's pause to collect himself, and so he was quite unprepared when Slughorn said, "Your mother has been taken very ill, Mr. Black, and has been transported to St. Mungo's Hospital."

Regulus blinked in surprise, "Mother? What's wrong with her?"

"Well, the owl I received with the news was somewhat vague," Slughorn admitted. He paused, pulling a letter from his breast pocket. "You recall Bellatrix Lestrange, I presume, one of your eldest cousins? Neice of your mother?"

"Yes," Regulus nodded, thinking of Bella's cruel laughter and sing-songing voice. His blood went a bit cold. Of all the death eaters, she was one of the cruelest - and certainly the most annoying. Her pleasure from anyone else's suffering extended to kicking house elves and that, above all of her other sins and transgressions, was one thing that angered Regulus more than any other offense.

"She was the one who found your mother and she and her husband, Rudolphus, transported her to the hospital this very hour."

Regulus imagined the throng of healers that were probably surrounding his dear mother right that moment. "But what happened to her?"

"She was found in her library, choking, though it is unclear on what, exactly," Slughorn replied.

Regulus stared at his hands. His stomach was knotted up in a big tangled mess of nervousness. He worried that the healers might put some sort of relaxing charm on his mother and he imagined her telling Bella and Rudolphus all her deepest secrets... like her contempt against Voldemort and her remorse at ever having joined up as followers of such a dark and uncaring wizard. He imagined Bellatrix Lestrange running back to the Dark Lord - or skipping, more the like, being that it was Bellatrix he was thinking of - and telling him everything she'd learned, like some twisted pup looking for a treat. It made Regulus sick to imagine his mum so exposed like that, her private walls broken down against her will.

"I need to go to Mungo's, I need to see her," Regulus said to Slughorn, the anxiousness in him building further, "Please." 

Slughorn sighed, "There is very little you could do for now, Regulus, aside from getting in the way. I will take you and your brother to Mungo's tomorrow myself, if you wish, but for tonight --"

"Sir, please!" Regulus stood up, "Why did you even tell me what's happened if you didn't intend to help me go and see her?"

Slughorn looked surprised at the passion in Regulus's voice. "Miss. Lestrange is with her there and I suppose others as well and --"

"She needs me there," Regulus snapped. "Me, before any others. Before Bellatrix or Sirius. Me."

There was such strength and demand in Regulus's voice that Horace Slughorn stared up at him, blinking in shock at the outburst.