Daggers | r.a.b

beginning of the end

[daggers - part one]
[3rd] regulus

    He stood at the gates of the Malfoy Manor, next to his father, staring at the horizon.

    This was it. The initation for the Death Eater ceremony. It was too late- there was no turning back now. He'd be killed if he turned back.

    The nature seemed to mourn the loss of his innocence as well. The grey sky howled, wind whipping his robes, and the normally vibrant grass seemed to be wilting, the colour brownish, the life draining out of it.

    The gates opened, creaking. His father, Orion Black looked at him, face blank of emotion. He hesitated, looking behind him, knowing this was his last chance to escape this evil life. Perhaps if he ran fast enough, he could make it back to Hogwarts in time. Professor Dumbledore would be able to protect him from Voldemort. He would be able to make up with his brother, he would be able to have her beside him.

    But then he remembered Sirius. The elder Black sibling had run away the previous summer, abandoning him. There was no denying he missed his brother- after all, they were close once upon a time. But he had run away, leaving all the burden, once shared among the brothers, on his shoulders, and his alone. All his life he had been neglected, due to his being the second child, used as an airbag for his parents, Sirius being the heir and the more 'precious' one, despite his sorting and rebellious attitude. He had quietly stomached all the beatings, scoldings, everything, hoping that one day he could do his family proud. Now he was the only child, and he was pressed under all the expectations and pressure of being the next heir to the Black family. How could he turn back now? How could he let his parents, his ancestors, the Black family, the Sacred Twenty-Eight down?

    He took a deep breath, and turned to his father. "I'm ready." Even to himself, his voice sounded shaky, uncertain.

    His father nodded. He knew that, with this sentence, he had reached the point of no return. He had signed his soul away to the devil.

    His father raised his wand. Thunder rumbled. Stormy winds and devilish green smoke surrounded him, spinning around him like a tornado, obscuring his sight, spinning faster and faster and faster-

    He suddenly found himself standing in a large, dark room. He recognized the room from his favourite cousin, Narcissa's wedding. It was the conference room, in all its glory. The walls were golden and black, with elegant designs etched in, and the furniture all looked like they costed a ton. But what puzzled him was that it was empty, save for himself, his father, and one other person he had not seen since her wedding years ago.

    Narcissa Malfoy was every bit as beautiful as she was when he last saw her. Her cold, calculating blue eyes swept the room, softening as she saw him. With her regal posture with an aura of superiority surrounding her, there was no doubt she came from a rich pureblood family. She nodded at him and gestured for him to follow her.

    She glanced at his father, who walked towards a wall and pressed his left forearm against it. Regulus instantly felt dizzy, knowing that it was the dark mark, that he would have to get the same mark too soon.

    The wall opened, just like Diagon Alley. He had no time to wonder, as he was instantly yanked inside by some people he knew were death eaters. He looked at Narcissa, a betrayed look in his eyes, and saw her guilty expression. His father looked at him expressionless, and he knew what was expected of him. "Toujours pur, Regulus," his father had once told him, "we expect from you the best and only the best." In this case, the best to Orion Black was bringing the Black family pride. Orion Black cared nothing of his son's feelings nor felt compassion for his son, who was soon to be binded to a future he did not want.

    The tunnel was dark and cold and wet, with something that was not water. The Death Eaters dragged him roughly through it, sometimes accidentally slamming him to the slimy floor. He couldn't breathe- he was moving to fast- and he caught sight of his robes, now torn and battered from the ground of the tunnel, drenched with blood. He shivered.

    Finally, they landed in a room, still dark, still cold, still wet. It was black in colour, with a long table, quite a number of chairs, and green cages hanging above the table, containing people- muggles, or muggleborns, he presumed- slumped over the floor of the cages. But the most intimidating part was the severed, bloody heads hanging on the walls. He gulped.

    Wizards in black robes and silver death eater masks occupied the chairs, save one- the elaborate, dark green one at the end of the table. The person who sat in that chair was the one he feared most- his new master.

    Tom Marvolo Riddle, or else known as Lord Voldemort, was nothing like the pictures of him in Hogwarts. His skin was deathly pale, and he radiated an aura of pure power. His snake-like red eyes seemed to peer into Regulus' soul as he looked at him. His laughter sounded cruel, resonating fear in the hearts of his followers.

    As the Death Eaters eagerly gave information and discussed attacks, his thoughts wandered. He felt scared- scared that he would have to be part of this terrorizing gang in a matter of minutes, that one day he might have to hurt someone, or maybe even kill someone. He imagined her, next to him. What would she say? In his mind he saw her in this very room, slumped in one of the cages, or lying in the corners like some other corpses, motionless. He couldn't afford that. Imaginary her held his hand and comforted him. "Be brave," she would say. "It'll be alright." But in his mind he knew it was not okay, that he couldn't lose her, or even worse, be forced to lose her by his own hand.

    But he knew that there were people in this room who knew that he was close to her through first to third year, even though he was sure no death eater knew about their encounters fourth year or above. If he refused, they could easily track her and Lily down, the only people seen with him except the Slytherins through all his years at school.

    So when Voldemort finally turned his attention to him, he had made up his mind.

    He would do it out of love.

    He knelt at the feet of the Dark Lord, and spoke the pledge. "I pledge myself to the service of the Dark Lord..."

    And as the vibrant colours of black and green spiraled into the infamous dark mark on his left forearm, all his could think of was:

    The war had begun.
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End of Part One
To be continued in Part Two