Ad Mortem Festinamus

There was another other young Death Eater who felt thoroughly dissatisfied with the situation he was in. What had he been thinking? He couldn't say. Yes, he had been fascinated with the Dark Arts. Yes, he had dreamt of joining the Dark Order and prove himself - prove that he wasn't the little, soft fool that everyone was taking him for. He had wanted to step out of the shadow of his elder brother, be truly respected by his cousins... But the prize had been too high.

It hadn't taken him long to realise that he wasn't cut out to be a killer. He wasn't like Bellatrix - he didn't find any pleasure at all in tormenting helpless victims. He wasn't like his cousin-in-law Lucius either - he couldn't be indifferent, so coldly efficient and single-minded. He winced back every time when he witnessed torture and death, in fact, it got only worse the more often he saw it. Those poor people, mudbloods and muggle-lovers or not! When they were begging for mercy - pleaded for their lives - for their loved ones... It was terrible! It gave him nightmares, made him nauseated and sympathetic in a way that he hadn't believed to have in himself.

Regulus Black was underestimated by anyone but his own mother. Nobody had ever seen him for real. He was immensely talented, but also suffered from a sort of stage-fright. He was clever and sly, but with a face like his - good-humoured, cheerful, harmless - nobody would believe it. For almost twenty years, he had cursed his bad luck, but lately, he had come to appreciate those apparent drawbacks. Nobody kept an eye on you when they thought you were an idiot.

He had found out some things... The Dark Lord was said to be immortal, and he had always wondered if that could be true, and if it was true - how the hell had he brought it about? Well, he thought he had got a clue now. In his parents' extensive library, he had come across an ancient tome, mentioning in passing what a Horcrux was... And Regulus had counted two and two together when he had overheard the Dark Lord ordering Rabastan and Rodolphus to hide some item in some secluded spot. Or rather say - at first, he had asked himself what this was about, and trailed them more out of habit. But when he had seen how very secluded the place was that they went to, and that this was only the beginning of the many security measures taken, he faintly remembered that book he had read...

The Lestrange brothers had been so preoccupied by their mission, they hadn't noticed him, and when he was sure they were gone - he had waited for four hours in his cover, just to be on the safe side - he entered that cave again, but after many attempts, he had to give up. This was no task that could be mastered by a single person. He had to give up and return home, racking his brains for two days and nights. Whom could he let into the secret? He had no true friends outside of the Dark Order, and if he had, he wouldn't want to endanger them. The same was true for his parents. Where to find someone he could trust enough, and whose life he could bring in such peril?

The Dark Lord... How could he have been so - so stupid to fall for his shit?! To disprove his wretched brother?! Well, maybe Sirius had been right all along, because he was a goddamned idiot! The first muggle he had killed to show that he was capable of it, the second one he had killed to silence the sceptics, but number three had already been killed merely because he had been too frigging cowardly not to do it! That man - perhaps he had had a family? A wife? A kid? A whole lot of kids? Undoubtedly, he had had a mother, and he knew about mothers. His own might rage and rumble because of Sirius, still she was totally heartbroken because he had left. How bad would she feel if he was murdered?! By some bastard who was just too much of a chicken, like him?! For absolutely nothing!

He had murdered three human beings, and he couldn't forgive himself for it. They had been muggles, all right, but that didn't make them any less human! And he had slain them, one little incantation and woosh, they had dropped dead, like flies in autumn, like dead leaves from a tree -

He wasn't yet twenty, and already he had messed up his entire life. Had ruined it beyond repair - he couldn't make those muggles alive again. But there was something he could do... He - but this was too big for him. Everything anyone had ever said was totally true. He was a coward, he was weak and foolish, and silly, and an utter and complete failure!

But after a while, he calmed down again, enough anyway to contemplate the mess he was in. Fact number one was: he had reached the end of the line. He couldn't do this any more. Fact number two: this meant his end. He'd be killed like a rabid dog. Fact number three: he had witnessed how Rodolphus had hidden something, which must be so terribly important that he had taken a dozen security measures. Fact number four: he had been ordered to do that by the Dark Lord himself. Fact number five: apart from all the other atrocities, a child had been sought out to be murdered, and the parents considered to be just collateral damages.

And then there was the wide field of guesswork. Firstly - the likeliest cause for the master's alleged immortality was that he had crafted a Horcrux. It was the only thing Regulus had ever heard of that could make someone 'immortal'. Or had Snape, the ingenious potioneer, invented some potion with the same effect? Snape had risen high in the Dark Lord's favour, and very quickly so - could the reason be... No. No, Snape might be the best potion-maker he had ever seen, with the possible exception of cousin Narcissa, but it was nigh impossible that he should have invented such a thing, before the age of twenty-two. No...

Secondly - if his life was forfeited anyway, he could just as well use the rest of it for something useful, something good. He could help to save that boy, perhaps, and his parents... He could help saving the lives of many people. Without the Dark Lord, the others wouldn't dare to act like now...

Thirdly, and in this context possibly most important - if that item that Rodolphus had hidden was so important, it might well be that Horcrux, and if it was that Horcrux, it could be destroyed, and if it was destroyed, the Dark Lord was a mere mortal again and could be killed. Regulus could come to the next gathering and throw a Killing Curse at the Dark Lord, one murder at last that was justified -

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Cicatrix... The scars of conscience burn like wounds.