The Marauders: Year Seven Part Two

It's Starting

Suddenly something lunged forth... and Frek only just managed to duck away and disapparate before whatever it had been could get him.

He landed, breathless, in Hogsmeade and let out a cry of pain, doubling onto the ground and clutching his foot, pulling his shoe from it. Because of the speed with which he'd gone and the distance, too, most likely, Frek had managed to splinch one of his toes clean off. He used a spell to stop the bleeding, and cover the splinched appendage with bandages until he could get to the castle.

The time later and the sky darker here in Hogsmeade than it had been in the village in Iceland... People were going in and out of the Three Broomsticks, the place was hopping with activity. It wasn't the broomsticks he wanted, though, and he hobbled, swallowing back the pain and shock running up his leg from his foot. The toe's absence was throwing off his balance in a weird way and he was hunkered over as he pushed open the door of the Hog's Head. It was much quieter here than it had been at the Three Broomsticks, and the barman looked up as he entered.

"I'm needin' ter get ter the castle," Mr. Frek said.

The barman nodded, putting down his dirty rag he was 'cleaning' the bar with. "This way," he spoke gruffly, and Mr. Frek followed after him. 

Regulus Black lay asleep in his bed, dreaming.. Suddenly a white-hot blazing pain shot up his left arm and he let out a cy of shock and pain as he tumbled from his bed, tangled in his duvet and pyjamas. Sweat prickled across his forehead as he lay there, clutching his arm, his stomach turning with the pain. It let up a bit, but even the residual pain burning through his blood stream. How he didn't cry out, Regulus didn't know.

He got up, tears in his eyes as he fought his way down the steps of the Slytherin common room, tripping and falling the last couple steps and hitting the floor with a thump that threw the breath from his lungs, just as a second flash of burning pain went up through his arm and he squeezed his eyes as tightly shut as he could. Bile raced up his throat and he got up, sprinting out of the common room and into the hallway, down the corridor, clutching his arm... He doubled over suddenly, and he threw up, sick spraying the carpet and his shoes as he gasped and coughed out the last of it.

"K-Kreacher," he choked, "Kreacher c-come here!" 

CRACK!

The elf stood beside him in the corridor, and though he started to bow in reverence, he saw nearly immediately Regulus's pale face and the smell of sick rising from the carpet and his ears flapped in alarm. "Master Regulus is not well!" he croaked, "Kreacher must take him to the infirmary..."

"No." Regulus's word was sharp as the elf reached to grab for him. "No. Kreacher, I need you to take me to Sirius's dormitory. Right now."

"But Master --"

"KREACHER," Regulus snapped. The pain had shot up his veins again as he'd spoken the elf's name and it came out harsher than he had ever said it, and through gritted teeth he said, "I command you to take me to Sirius's dormitory-- RIGHT -- NOW."

Kreacher's eyes were wide, betrayed by the sharp tone, and his ears went flat as he nodded and grabbed onto Regulus's arm.

CRACK!

Regulus landed on the carpet in the dormitory. It was pitch dark and the beds were empty. "No, no, no," he choked as he fell against one of the desk chairs, tears springing to his eyes, yet another wave of the pain searing his skin. He couldn't hold off much longer, he could feel the anger growing in each burn. He was delaying too long already.