Number 12 Grimmauld Place was dark and dreary even when it was sunny out, but it was even darker and drearier when it was rainy in the square.
Streaks of rain water ran in bulbous lines of droplets across the window in the library.
Cadmas Peverell stared at the spot where the house elf had stood moments before. If he had still had a heart, it might've been stopped in anticipation. The elf only ever left if Regulus had called on it...
CRACK!
Kreacher and Regulus suddenly appeared there before his portrait frame.
"Oh blessings be!" Cadmas shouted, seeing Regulus, "Blessings be - you're alright. You had us both in a right turn about here, not coming back for so many days - not calling the elf. The elf was having a terrible fit of it, kept pacing about muttering the entire time --"
The truth of it was, it had been Cadmas Peverell that had been pacing and muttering. Kreacher had dutifully gone about his work, returning to the library periodically to make sure Regulus hadn't found some other way home - even though Kreacher was the only way in and out of Number 12 these days, with all the protective charms set on the place...
Cadmas continued on, "Where have you been? Surely a trip to the Riddle House didn't take three days and nights! Today's the fourth day since you departed and --"
Regulus's voice was flat, "I had other things that held me up." And he turned to kreacher, facing in the direction that Cadmas could see the immense bandages on his left arm for the first time. "Kreacher," Regulus said, his tone never changing or inflecting at all, "Go and fetch my pendant."
"Yes Master, Kreacher will go and fetch Master's pendent." Kreacher scurried from the room. "Master's most precious object, Kreacher shall fetch it for him, Kreacher will go and get it for Master!"
When the elf had gone, Regulus turned to the books on the shelves, searching for something.
"What happened to your arm, boy?" Cadmas asked.
"Got bitten," Regulus answered simply. He struggled with one arm to climb the library ladder, selected a volume, and pulled it down from the wall.
"Bitten?! By what?" Cadmas asked, incredulous.
"Fenrir Greyback," Regulus answered. He lay the book he'd selected down on the desktop, flipping it open. It was a volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Fingal's Cave, he read, Most famous of the sea caves in the basalt southwest coast of Staffa, an island of the Inner Hebrides, western Scotland. Estimates of its length vary from 227 feet (69 metres) and 270 feet (82 metres), and its arched roof is said to reach between 66 feet (20 metres) and 72 feet (22 metres) above sea level. It is about 40 feet (12 metres) wide. Its floor is covered by about 25 feet (7.6 metres) of water.
There was a photo of the cave and if he wasn't entirely numb he might have felt something like fear arise in him for there was no mistaking it. The shape of it, the way it was a simply gash in the rock face, and the squared-off, pillar-like stones that made the floors and the walls... Never had his memory of the place been more acute than at that moment.
Voldemort had taken him there, taken his memory of it away, and now Regulus had gained it back.
He could even remember the smell of it as he stared at the photo.
He nodded, tapping the page, "That's it." He tore the page out of the book hastily.
"Did you just -- tear that book?!" Cadmas was incredulous. "You have no respect for the written volume, sir!"
Regulus laughed, "This whole place could be set on fire for all I care at this point, Cadmas. Don't tempt me or I'll do it, just to bid it farewell." He grinned widely but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He held up the torn-out page. "This is it, Cadmas."
"What?"
"This is where he's got the horcrux hidden."
Cadmas stared at the book page being offered up. "A cave?"
"Fingal's Cave in the Hebrides."
"Why... it's a tourist spot, see there, it says steamers carry visitors to see the island and the cave."
"Only during tourist season."
"Why would he put it in a cave where tourist's go?" Cadmas chuckled, "No, no, you must be mistaken boy, he wouldn't have put it in a place just anybody could find it --"
Regulus shook his head, "I'm not mistaken, Cadmas. I know it's there. I've been there."
"Been there?" Cadmas gave Regulus a look of incredulity. "How can you say -- you said you didn't know where -- the last three months, and you knew all along?"
"I didn't remember, but it's all coming back now and I'm telling you that the horcrux is here."
Kreacher came in the room then, Regulus's pendant clung tight in his fist. "Here is Master's most precious object..." Kreacher held the pendant up to Regulus. He took it carefully, the flat circle of gold laying in his palms, words upright.
You are so brave.
He stared at the engraving. "Maryrose... you were wrong about me.... you foolish girl, you thought I was worth sacrificing yourself for... but..." he laughed sadly, shaking his head.
"Master?" Kreacher asked, tentative.
"I am fine Kreacher," Regulus said, but his voice shook now.
Cadmas said, "What are you doing?" He was watching Regulus closely now, his brows knit together.
Regulus had pushed the volume of the encyclopedia back, clearing a space of the desk. He lay the pendant down on the desk and he reached into his pocket and withdrew his wand. He paused, staring at the pendant. "Kreacher," he commanded.
"Yes Master?"
"Get me the book about Salazar Slytherin."
"Yes Master." Kreacher rushed to the case and climbed up, searching for the book.
"Slytherin?" Cadmas asked.
"I need to see the locket."
Cadmas's eyes travelled to the pendent. "What are you --"
Regulus reached for the Syltherin book and plucked it from Kreacher's hands before the elf had properly reached him and he flipped the cover on the heavy tome open, searching the pages until he'd found it.
It was a horribly ugly thing. It looked like amber with a bright green, tiny snake captured in the center, curved into the shape of the letter S. The amber was set in silver with teeth-like closure points. In the amber was carved runes around the poison-green letter, and Regulus struggled through reading what they said.
By force take ye what thy will; for by force wilt come thy enemy.
Regulus made a face.
He put the book down on the desk so that it lay next to the open pages about the Hebrides.
He looked at the pendant before him.
It lay there, all gold and sort of tarnished from years of being hung about his neck without being taken off, and worried through his finger tips, and now some time in Kreacher's garden. But it was still as precious and beautiful to Regulus as it had been on the day he'd gotten it from Maryrose. He could still see how it spun on the end of it's chain as it hung from his fist, how it shone. In his mind, he could see the reflection of her teal hair in it, though he couldn't really.
Regulus raised his wand.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, just as he'd done when he'd shorn his hair... just as he'd done when he set his wrist on fire.
Then -- he did the unthinkable.
"Engorgio... transfigurar..."
It took some time - he spent nearly an hour - poking and prodding and working on the details here and there, referring to the illustration in the book, then squinting at the pendant in his hands... but it was no longer his pendant. Instead, it was a locket. The locket of Salazar Slytherin.
When he was done, he lay it on the desk again, and he backed away, breathless, his heart pounding in his chest, and he stared at it for a long moment.
Cadmas Peverell was staring at it with wide, eyes.
Silence fell over the library that was heavy and long-lasting. Kreacher cowered behind Regulus, peering up at the portrait with worry, and then glancing at what had been his Master's most precious object.
Some part of Regulus was screaming to change it back.
He knew it was impossible to do.
"Cadmas?"
Regulus's eyes never left the locket. "What is it like to die?"
Kreacher looked up at Regulus, his bulbous eyes wide with fear. "Master does not mean to ask such things!" Kreacher said, "Master is asking things that are far, far off for Master, that Kreacher's Master much never speak of happening! Never, never!"
"Kreacher, I command you to be silent."
Kreacher looked stunned, he covered his mouth with his palms, his eyes filled with hurt, and tears fell across his cheeks in great streams then as he stared up at Regulus.
Regulus's eyes still never left the locket. "Cadmas," he repeated. "What is it like to die?"
Cadmas was quiet - so long that Regulus nearly asked a third time before he said - "I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? Of course you know."
Cadmas said, "Portraits cannot recall their own deaths, Regulus. Too many of the subjects of the great portraits have been through such immensely horrible ordeals that they do not remember their own deaths. The only way they learn how they passed is to have gathered it from books or children passing by in the halls and discussing such things... I only know my own fate from the myriad of times I have heard the story told by witches and wizards growing up. I mean to say that I remember the circumstances. I remember the smell of the room I was in and the angle of the lighting in it. But to tell you what it was like -- what the moment was like when I passed into death... That memory did not belong to my physical self, you see."
Regulus nodded.
"Don't do whatever it is you're thinking of, Regulus." Cadmas's voice was pleading.
Regulus took the locket from the desk and opened the latch, displaying the inside. It was lined with crushed green velvet.
"Tell me how the stone works... I know it's thrice turned over in your palm...?"
"Regulus..."
"Do you think on the person? Their name? Personality traits?" he asked. "And they show up?"
Cadmas said, "Don't use the stone boy. Destroy it."
"I intend to..." his eyes flickered to Kreacher, then he said, "But --"
Cadmas's voice was defeated. "You must feel them as they were."
"Feel them as they were?" repeated Regulus.
"Similar to the patronus charm, you must remember her as clearly and vividly as if she were there before you... and turn the stone thrice in your hand... your right hand, mind... holding onto the memory of her presence... and -- she will come."
"And she will stay?"
"Until you drop the stone. When the stone his the ground, your magic leaves it, and she will be gone."
Regulus nodded.
"But don't do this --"
Regulus ignored as Cadmas pleased, presenting a case on deaf ears. He reached into the drawer of the desk, withdrew a bit of parchment and lifted the quill, dipping it into a small pot of ink.
To the Dark Lord,
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
R. A. B.
He stared at his initials, folded the note into as small a diamond shape as he could possibly do, and tucked it into the velvet lined space, pressing the locket closed.
It felt final.
It felt right.
He looked to Cadmas.
"You must go to Albus Dumbledore and tell him everything you've told me about the horcruxes and the hallows, about all the things we've found out."
Cadmas looked scandalized, "But then Dumbledore will know --"
"He will know what they are up against," Regulus answered. "He will know what the Order of the Phoenix must prepare for so that when they go up against the Dark Lord, he will have met his match - and they will be able to destroy him as a mortal man."
Cadmas shook his head, "Why don't you tell them?"
Regulus slipped the locket into his pocket instead of answering.
There was a crash and Regulus turned around. In his silence, Kreacher had snuck away and he was now back, and he'd knocked over the little vase of roses on the end table by Mother's old seat. Kreacher seemed to have barely noticed the fallen roses, but was focused on the Gobstones board he was setting up, having dragged it from Regulus's bedroom.
Regulus stared at the elf. "Kreacher... what are you doing?"
Kreacher had tears falling from his eyes.
"Kreacher, you may speak."
"Please Master..."
Regulus hesitated. "Kreacher," he said. "I'll play gobstones with you when we get back."
Kreacher turned to look at Regulus. "When we get back?"
"Yes, Kreacher." Regulus felt a pit in his stomach.
"Does Master promise we will play gobstones when we get back?" the emphasis the elf used on the word "we" was not lost on Regulus.
"Yes Kreacher," Regulus lied.
Kreacher's hands fell away from the gobstones board. "Where are we going, Master Regulus?"
"Scotland... Wait here, Kreacher... I'll be right back."
Regulus slid out of the library, closing the door behind him. He stood on the landing and looked over the bannister at the hall below, at the ugly troll foot umbrella stand and the kitchen door, open at the far end of the hall. Turning behind him, he saw the portrait of Walburga hanging on the wall. She looked mean and cruel in the painting and he wished she looked more the way he, Regulus, remembered her rather than the way she looked like every nasty thing Sirius had ever said...
He climbed the stairs, running his hand across the top of the wainscoting and pushed open his bedroom door. He looked around at the things he owned, the way everything was exactly in its place. He'd always been like that, hadn't he? he realized. Even as a child? Everything had it's own spot to belong in, and if it wasn't where he wanted it, then everything felt a mess. Well, right now, nothing felt like it was where it belonged.
He climbed the stairs to the third floor and stood on the landing.
KEEP OUT!!! NO PARENTS! NO LITTLE BROTHERS! AND ESPECIALLY NO HOUSE ELVES ALLOWED!!!!!
The letters were in big, powerful block letters, thick and awful. Sirius had beautiful scrawling handwriting with flourishes and loop-de-loops, fancy ampersands, and a grace that for all his practice Regulus had never perfected... Yet he chose to write in all capital block letters because of how it upset Walburga to no end.
He pushed his way into the room.
If Regulus's had been neat and organized, Sirius's was an absolute mess. Things were strewn about everywhere, flung down upon the carpet, haphazard stacks on his desk, in the shelves, on the floors... Everything had the look of having been used, put down, and just never returned to again. The walls were covered with photographs of motorbikes and muggles women. Clearly, these had been given the permanent sticking charm before Sirius had sorted himself out.
On the desk there lay old bits of parchment, half written letters with headings and half-written messages.
Dear Marlene, I'm having a great summer! I got your owl while I was backpacking in Costa Rica. That's why it's taken so long to reply. Your second owl found me still in the jungle here. There's quite a lot to explore. Did you know that sometimes oranges come from Costa Rica? I've been staying in a grove of them here, eating them right off the tree for breakfast every morning. I'll be sure to bring you home one so you can see how spectacular they are. I really am having a wonderful time, it's positively spiffing here in Costa Rica, and --
Regulus shook his head.
Another thing Sirius hadn't sorted out properly yet last time he was here.
Regulus pushed the letter to Marlene aside, lifted a quill, and wrote,
28 March, 1979
Although I doubt you will ever return here to see this, Sirius, I want you to know that I am sorry for the things that I have done in my life, but most especially for the things that I have done to you and the things that I did not ever do for you.
I regret so much and I don't expect if I spent every breath for the next seventy years repeating "I am sorry" again and again to you that I should ever be able to make up for the hurt I've caused you. I am sorry that I did not allow the hat to sort me Gryffindor when it tried.
If you ever find this, here are a few other things that I regret having not said while I had the chance to say them:
1. You are bravest wizard I have ever known.
2. I admire you and I wish that I was more like like you.
3. I am glad that you are my brother, even if I did not deserve you.
4. I wish that you had a better brother, a better family... and I am glad that you have the Potters and that you have James and that he can be for you all of the things that I am not. I hope that he appreciates how lucky he is that you are his Big Brother.
5. You shan't understand this, I don't expect, and I hope that something happens to change it so that you never do understand it, but please remember, Sirius, to be careful.... the rocks are slippery at Azkaban.
6. I love you.
He put down the quill.
He didn't want to see the clubhouse. He'd been up there recently and seen it in it's disrepair and he didn't think he could handle it again.
Regulus went back downstairs.
Kreacher was on the landing in front of the open door to the library.
"Regulus!" Cadmus called. "Come in here! Now! Boy, let's discuss ---"
Regulus held out his hand. "Kreacher... I command you to take me to Fingal's Cave."
"Regulus! Wait -- You can't --"
But Regulus Black and his elf had disappeared.