In The Fire, Fire Glow

In The Fire, Fire Glow

Chapter 1: Disenchantment

I killed a child today. I held its mangled and broken body in my arms as its mother screamed and screamed. I do not think that it was the Cruciatus that took her mind. And the Killing Curse must have been a blessing that she welcomed.

Regulus stopped writing. His hand shook so badly that the ink splotched on the page, made it unreadable. He had managed to keep his face straight tonight as long as he was with them, the only way to preserve his life. But the moment he crossed the threshold of his home he had thrown up. All over poor Kreacher. Mother had been worried but he told her that it was his usual Kneazle allergy. That damn Lestrange owned a whole herd of them. His father had found it amusing but mother had sent Kreacher up with an anti-Kneazle potion immediately after he had cleaned himself. Mother fussed so much over him since Sirius left. She had never gotten over the betrayal of her eldest son. Regulus wondered how she would react to the death of her youngest one. Because death now was a very real possibility.

Regulus got up and started pacing around the room. He had taken a calming draught but he couldn't feel any effects yet. Two double glasses of Firewhisky had produced better results. He poured himself a third one. He could not get the woman's face out of his mind. Her expression once she realized that her child was not going to recover. He hadn't meant it. He hadn't meant to kill the little girl. He had aimed for her mother but she had turned her body to avoid another curse and he had hit it. It had been a year and a half old and the Cruciatus had been strong enough to kill it. Regulus blinked not believing what had just happened. The rest of them cheered and urged him on...

"Kill her too..."

"Filthy Mudblood..."

"That'll teach her ..."

It had all been a blur from then on. She had screamed and screamed it still rang in his ears. And then silence. He felt strangely empty inside, like a part of his soul was missing, like it had been torn out the moment he had killed the child. And it probably had. Regulus emptied his glass. It was never meant to be this way....not killing...not babes from the arms of their mothers....He threw the glass on the wall in a fit of rage and then started drinking from the bottle. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Ever. There would never be any peace for him. Not after he had done.

It had all been fine when they all sat down in the warm drawing rooms drinking fire whisky and discussed how Mudbloods were taking over everywhere and how they had to be stopped. How in the glorious days of the past the purebloods had run things and how Mudbloods should be turned away from their world using any means possible. And after a couple of drinks they started joking about how they should jinx the Mudbloods they knew and the more they drunk the more daring and elaborate the plans became.

Then He came along. No one knew quite where he had come from, but everybody liked what he had to say. Regulus liked what he said. His parents liked what he said. Many of the pureblood families liked what he said. Soon their sons and daughters flocked around him, the one they called Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord. Regulus, like all his friends had joined in. It was the pureblood thing to do. They had been welcomed of course, him more than others. He was a Black, and Blacks were among the oldest families. He was glad to find that his cousins where there too. Bellatrix and Narcissa. It would be a nice opportunity to clear the Black name after that unfortunate affair with Andromeda. Sirius leaving hadn't been that good either, but at least that hadn't made the front pages of the Daily Prophet.

In the beginning it had been fun, a hex here a jinx there, even then odd curse. Muggle baiting, and scaring the living daylights out of mudblood wizards and witches. But then it began to get increasingly darker. Of course they couldn't see it at first. And then, one day, Regulus opened his eyes and saw. He saw what was required from them. If there was a line to cross, this was so far beyond the line that they couldn't see it anymore. But still he buried the objections he had. His parents were so proud. He doubted that they would be if they really knew what he was doing. They where materializing all the things they had planned in those long nights in the drawing room. But those had been drunken boasts of immature spoiled kids. These were actual deeds of very sober people. Saying it was one thing. But doing it...oh my God actually doing it...

He shook his head. There must be a way out of this. There must be. Regulus wasn't stupid enough to believe that he could just hand in a letter of resignation with two weeks' notice. He had to gather his brains and find it. He swung the bottle to his lips and then flung it aside.

Think, think, think...the world became a big blur as the calming draught took its effect and he passed out.

****

A plan was formulating in Draco Malfoy's mind. The Dark Lord had requested to see him and an awestruck Draco had rushed to present himself. He could not understand why his mother was so worried.

The Dark Lord told him that the world was now aware of his return. Even though it had happened earlier that he had planned thanks to that meddling boy and his Mudblood friends. And there had been purebloods among them. Now, they deserved the worst punishment, traitors to their kind. Sirius Black had come to a deserving end. But there was something that the Dark Lord wanted from him. Draco had been flattered. The Dark Lord needed his services.

Yes, the Dark Lord told him. He, Draco Malfoy was a pureblood of the highest standing. With the blood of the house of Black and Malfoy running in his veins. The son of his devoted follower Lucius. Now, his father had made a mistake, but Draco could fix it for him. Make his father proud. And once the task was performed Draco would be honoured among the Death Eaters like no other. And the Dark Lord would set his father free, take him away from that foul place, Azkaban. Yes, the Dark Lord said, I trust you Draco, I trust you enough to make you one of my own Death Eaters, just like Lucius. Yes, lift your sleeve, extend your arm and receive the Dark Mark... Draco's heart swelled with pride. When he heard the task the Dark Lord had for him his smile faltered. But he assured his new master that he would find a way. Draco looked forward to serving the Dark Lord. He looked forward to making his father proud. He wanted nothing more that to please him. Earn his approval. And now he had just thought of a way. It had been dancing on the edge of his mind for a while. And tonight the pieces had fallen into place. It was so simple he could kick himself for not thinking about it earlier.

In the morning, at breakfast, he told his mother and aunt Bellatrix about it. Bellatrix smiled proudly. Narcissa paled slightly, and then smiled weakly. The three of them tweaked out the weak spots until they were satisfied. It was about to begin...

****

If there was ever a man that had regretted a decision made, it was he. Even death was preferable to this. Sirius had been right. He should have died instead. At least his former friends would remember him fondly. But he had been a coward then and he was one now. Peter Pettigrew's life was an absolute never-ending hell.

It began eighteen years earlier. The Death Eaters had cornered him. He pleaded with them and in a moment of infinite stupidity he came to bitterly regret offered information in exchange for his life. The masked Death Eaters laughed and Peter cowered as he thought his life was over. But a large man grabbed him from the scruff of his neck and Disapparated with him. The next thing he knew he was in front of the dark Lord himself. The man was tall and imposing with terrible red eyes. Lord Voldemort smiled down at whimpering Pettigrew at his feet, the joy in his eyes more terrifying than anything Peter had ever seen. His words were honey and vinegar. He could join him the Dark Lord said, since he was a pureblood, and pass on information, and when they won be rewarded -- or he could die a slow and agonizing death. But before he died he would see his mother Crucio'ed to death. Peter was sobbing from the moment he saw where he was. His insides turned to ice. He took his decision in a heartbeat.

Peter sighed as he rinsed the mugs and hanged them. and what it gotten him? Nothing more than sleepless nights and being privy to the true meaning of fear. When James told him about his and Sirius's plan and asked him if his was willing to risk for his friends, Peter nearly peed his pants with joy. Finally, he could go to his master and show him something spectacular, something that would put him in the inner circle, that would win him respect.

But when the Dark Lord fell, defeated by a one year old, Peter had to do some very fast thinking. The Death Eaters who knew who had passed the information that led to the demise of their Lord would be after him. Especially those Lestranges. And on the other hand, once it became known who had betrayed the Potters the whole Order of the Phoenix would be after his blood. But, think, think. Who else knew he was the Secret Keeper? Only Sirius Black. James hadn't told another soul, not even Dumbledore. Then it hit him, the simplicity of the plan was amazing. Everybody knew that Sirius was the secret keeper not him. And Sirius was a Black and that would count against him. Why not let Sirius take the blame and disappear, throwing everybody off his trail once and for good?

Pettigrew filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove. Yes, great plan. Sirius was branded a traitor and thrown in Azkaban before he could even say innocent. Even Dumbledore backed down in front of the overwhelming evidence of Sirius's guilt. Peter Pettigrew stood over the stove and watched the water simmer small bubbles emerging from the bottom and dance their way to the surface. Yes, such a brilliant plan. And what had it gotten him? Twelve years of living as a rat with the Weasleys. They fed him well, he couldn't complain, but still he had to pretend to be a rodent, do stupid little tricks for a piece of cheese and tolerate his whiskers being pulled by those infernal twins. And when Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban he knew that he was coming for him. Fortunately, when Sirius finally found him the Potter boy was there, and he was soft and forgiving when Peter once more begged for his life. It seemed to become a habit lately.

Pettigrew took the kettle and poured the hot water into the teapot. Then he lifted the teapot and put it on a large tray along with milk, sugar, and a single mug. He had escaped a rock and run straight into a hard place. Of all the stupid things he could have done, he went off to find and rejoin the Dark Lord, his original tormentor. But he had no choice, nowhere else to go, now that the Ministry knew the truth.

So he found the Dark Lord, now reduced to a disgusting thing, not dead, yet not truly alive. Pettigrew had nursed him. Found Bertha Jorkins for him, helped him journey to England, locate Barty Crouch and ignite the plan that would return the Dark Lord to power. He had even give given -- most unwillingly, true -- a pound of his own flesh. His own right hand. He, Peter Pettigrew had been Lord Voldemort's most loyal servant when all others had abandoned him. Pettigrew shot a look at his silver hand. And what had been his reward when the Dark Lord was restored to flesh, to his former glory and power?

Pettigrew lifted the tray and went to the living room of this shabby, dusty, book- littered house. His reward was to be given as a servant to Severus Snape.

"Where did you go for that Bloody tea? China?" Snape growled.

Pettigrew mumbled something inaudible.

"Find something to occupy yourself with," Snape said. " I don't want the company I'm excepting to be offended by the likes of you."

Pettigrew retired. Great. just great. He had been reduced to making coffee and tea for Snape. Who knew how lower he would fall still? Yes, all in all Sirius had been right. He should have died.

****

There is not a single time I have been in trouble and it was not my dear brother's fault. Even as children I followed him around like a puppy, taking part in every harebrained scheme he came up with. I remember the time he convinced me to try a potion of his own making that was supposedly make me invisible. Instead I was covered in scales for a month. Mum was really furious. She gave Sirius a smack bottom he never forgot, even though he was her favourite.

Sirius was everybody's favourite. He was a handsome boy with a wide smile that would get him out of any mischief he had managed. Even old Zelda didn't hold a grudge when he apologized for sending her a firecrab. Sirius was always a daredevil, a wild child, that would perform any kind of dangerous spell and get away with it, just because look at what our boy did, find and play with any manner of hazardous creature, perform any death-defying act. If Sirius could he would tame lightning and play with thunder. And he would try all those incredible inventions of his on me. And later, when he found his friends at Hogwarts he would run along with them and leave me behind, forgotten.

Of course everyone liked Sirius best, instead of poor Regulus, a shy and quite child who was content with the way the world was instead of wanting to change it like Sirius. And every time Sirius did something to upset our parents they asked him why couldn't he be more like me? Which was quite the joke, because as long as I can remember I wanted to be like him.

Anyway, I don't have much time. But I must say that when Sirius left our home, our parents disowned him of course, but our mother's hair grew white in a single night. She never spoke his name again but her heart was broken. Suddenly, I was their favourite son, their only son. I'm sorry, but Merlin forgive me, I cannot do what has been asked of me.

I joined the Death Eaters because I too agreed with what the Dark Lord said. And because it would make my parents proud. Which it did. I became their little hero. Which shows how much they knew. And how stupid I was.

To you who shall read this I can only ask for your forgiveness. But you must understand. You must. Not much time. I must be leaving soon.

A fortnight ago Lucius Malfoy approached me. He took me by the arm out of earshot. He wore a stiff expression, more like a man that hadn't gone to the toilet for a month. "Regulus," he whispered, "I should not tell you this, but we are related and you are Narcissa's favourite cousin." Ah, Narcissa. She is my favourite cousin too. And it seems that she drags Lucius by his...ahem nose.

"She would be devastated if something happened to you."

I frowned. "Why would anything--"

Lucius interrupted me with a sharp move "The Dark Lord senses that your faith wavers. He will soon set you a task to prove your loyalty. Be sure to perform it or else..." he stopped abruptly as Snape approached us.

I learned the task that same night. The Dark Lord summoned me and in front of his court gave me my assignment. My test of loyalty. I was to kill someone. Someone that was proving to be a thorn in the behinds of many Death Eaters. I was to kill Sirius Black. My brother.

****

When Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had married they had agreed to postpone any children until the Dark Lord's victory. But Narcissa found out that she was pregnant. It had been an accident and she thought that Lucius would not be well pleased. Lucius however had been thrilled. He had taken her in his arms and kissed her and showered her with gifts. But Lucius made a single mistake. He caved in her protests and let her come along on a mission. It was low risk, simply scaring a family of mudblood wizards. But there had been Aurors waiting for them there and a fierce battle followed. Narcissa screamed as a curse hit her. Lucius rushed to her side and Disapparated immediately. Lucius had spared no expense or risk. He took her to St. Mungo's with a feeble story of a home accident and a very large donation to the hospital that immediately halted any questions. But it was too late. The child was lost and Narcissa was in an inch of losing her own life. Even worse, the Healers informed Lucius Malfoy that his wife would not be able to have any children in the future. The news devastated him, but not half as much as her.

Narcissa felt into a deep melancholy. She tried not to show it and gave him sad heartbreaking smiles to assure him that she was all right. He blamed himself. He should never have agreed to take her along. But try and refuse a Black anything. He did everything in his power to make her happy again. He spared neither effort or expense. But either he gave her wild orchids from the Amazon or rainbow diamonds set in a platinum necklace she received it with the same polite smile. And there was the matter of the Malfoy heir. He wanted children. But he did not want another wife. He did not want another anything. He wanted Narcissa and their children.

Then Lucius Malfoy had an idea. A sort of last resort grasping-at-straws kind of idea. He went to see Severus Snape. He was his friend and an expert at the dark arts, and as much as Lucius hated to admit it much better at it than he was. Snape was as difficult as usual. He gave him a million reasons a million objections why this was dangerous. Why it should not be done. But Lucius was hell-bent on doing it. In the end Lucius Malfoy, probably the most arrogant man in the Kingdom of Great Britain, had to beg Severus Snape for his assistance. And Severus Snape, friend as he was to Lucius, enjoyed it immensely. Finally, he consented to help. He stressed that the risk was great and on Lucius's head if it failed. But there was a potion. A dangerous and extremely difficult potion to make. It had to be taken at a specific time by both of them before they tried for a child. And it could be used only once. And if, if Narcissa were to become pregnant she could not use magic until the child was born.

Lucius agreed to everything. And when Severus brewed the potion and finally put a vial in his hands he ran to her and told her about the potion. Narcissa smiled at him. And her smile made everything worthwhile. Of course she agreed despite the risk. They took the potion. And when Narcissa found out that she was pregnant again they where ecstatic. She spent all nine months lying down. It was a very difficult pregnancy but she carried the child to term. And when it was time Lucius was next to her holding her hand. It took her twenty-two hours to give birth, twenty-two hours of such screaming that made the Cruciatus pale in comparison. Lucius was tempted several times to use magic or ask the midwifes to use it. He hated it that his wife had to bear their child like a Muggle. But he held fast, despite her screams and three broken fingers. And when it was over and they saw for the first time that tiny, wrinkled, red-faced little creature, with three blond hairs on his head, it all seemed worth it. Narcissa took him in her arms, barely keeping her eyes open. Yes, she would do it all over again, just for this moment.

"You have done a wonderful job," Lucius told her.

"We have done a wonderful job," she corrected him. "Look at our son, Lucius. He will be strong, like a dragon. He will be Draco Lucius Malfoy."

Lucius did not contradict her. He would not even if she wasn't fast asleep.

****

Peter Pettigrew might not know it, but there was a man who had regretted his involvement in all this even more that he did. In fact this man cursed the hours, the very moment, he got entangled. Severus Snape sipped some tea. Damn that rat was useless! He couldn't even make a decent cup of tea.

Snape got up and put away his papers. His head hurt, so many thoughts swimming inside, all competing for attention. He was in a most precarious position indeed. And bound by so many promises, past and present...He expected he would make another one very soon. He was privy to the Dark Lord's vindictive plan, so he knew that Narcissa would be showing up ant minute now. Draco Malfoy would never know how many people had begged on bended knee on his behalf. Lucius Malfoy, who did not include the word 'please' in his vocabulary and now Narcissa. Everything said and done, he was only a sixteen year old boy. Him and that Potter boy....

****

I did give it a half hearted attempt at first. I stalked him outside his house. Oh yes, I knew where he lived. I also knew he was working for Dumbledore. He came back late one night. He was not alone though. His friend James Potter was with him, and his wife, heavily pregnant. Even if I somehow found the courage to attack Sirius, who smiled at something the woman said, Sirius whose face was so similar to mine, I did not want to risk hurting the woman or her unborn child. Never ever again would I hurt a child. Not a very good Death Eater, am I?

But I knew what my disobedience would cost. So I twisted my wits for another way. But I remembered bits and pieces from what the Dark Lord said. About how he had taken steps to defeat death. That meant only one thing. I see you smiling, dear reader, but my family dabbles in the dark arts too. I know what a horcrux is. I shall not go on in length here the hows and whys. For time is short. But once I figured out where it was hidden I made up my mind. I would take it and destroy it, giving the chance to a greater wizard than myself. Probably Dumbledore, to defeat the Dark Lord, now that he would be mortal again.

I took with me the only person I could still trust. And I, Regulus Black, did it. Even though the poisoned potion is slowly killing me. I did it. I now posses a part of the Dark Lord's soul and shall destroy it.

****

Draco Malfoy lay in his bed. He had returned from Hogwarts for the Easter holidays. He had remained at school for Christmas and would have stayed for Easter too, but mother insisted he return. He had taken her insistence as a hint that the Dark Lord wished to see him. The thought made his heart sink but disobedience was not an option. So he took the Hogwarts Express back home, his heart in his boots, not a smile cracking his lips despite Crabbe and Goyle's best efforts. Even Pansy couldn't cheer him up.

His mood did not improve when he saw his mother. She was as pale as death, her eyes bloodshot, thinner than ever before. His mother was in for an even nastier shock. Draco was thin, his face a sickly shade of grey, dark circles under his eyes and had lost so much weight that his robes hang unflattering on him.

Draco stared at the stars that shined on the ceiling of his room. His mother had performed this small enchantment when he was very little, because he had been afraid of the dark and later fascinated by the night sky, and now that he had grown he could not find it in his heart to erase it. When he had returned from Hogwarts last year, his mother informed him rather reluctantly that the Dark Lord wished to speak with him. He had been deliriously happy then. This would be his chance to prove himself. Showed what he knew, he thought bitterly. The Dark Lord had told him he had selected him, for a special mission. Him, Draco the son of one of his most loyal followers. It was unfortunate that Lucius had been taken captive, but this was Draco's chance to redeem his father's mistake. If he did this, Lord Voldemort would free his father from Azkaban in an instant. And he, Draco, would be honoured above all others. And the smug, stupid boy had accepted gratefully the task and happily agreed to be branded with the dark mark. Draco could not believe that it only a few months had past. It seemed like another lifetime. In the meantime Draco had come to realize that the Dark Lord had given him enough rope to hang himself with. And he knew his mother believed, even though she had not breathed a word about it to him, that the Dark Lord was using him to punish his father for his failure.

Draco turned in his bed and his hand felt something. He dragged it into view. It was his old teddy bear, Ginger. Draco was amazed that mother had kept it. Much more put it on his bed. For God's sake he was nearly seventeen now. He looked at the teddy's familiar face. Tomorrow the Dark Lord would Summon him. Draco did not know it yet, but it would be the most frightening hour of his life. Voldemort would drop all pretences and demand results. He would announce to him that if the task was not complete as soon as possible, then he would kill him right after he killed his mother and father. And it would all be his fault for not doing as he was told. And then the Dark Lord would give him a lesson in the Cruciatus Curse. Just so that Draco would knew what a Cruciatus session really was.

But for now, a stressfully suspecting Draco needed a friendly face; and a teddy was as friendly as he could get. When Narcissa came to check on him, Draco was sound asleep Ginger standing guard next to his pillow.

****

"It is proving to be more difficult than I thought....."

****

Draco Malfoy threw some water on his face. He tried to steady himself. His hands shook badly. He took some deep breaths. It wasn't working. Oh my God, it was still not working. His stomachs suddenly convulsed and he ran in to a cubicle, doubled over a toilet and threw up.

He hadn't really eaten anything this morning, so the acid came up burning his throat. When he finished he got up, rinsed his face and washed his face once more. Draco thought he could fix the cabinet but it was proving much more complicated and difficult than he originally believed. He spent every waking minute thinking about spells and researching them even from the Restricted Section. Snape had been very helpful with that. But Snape pressured him constantly, asking him what he was doing, offering help. His mother told him to trust Snape, but how could he? Snape was the Dark Lord's most trusted and favoured Death Eater. Probably more than Aunt Bella now. How could he risk, how could he dare tell him how behind he was? That he was stuck with some things while he completely didn't know how to fix others? How could he ask for his advice when Snape would run and report everything to the Dark Lord? And then the consequences would be dire.

His hands started shaking again. He took out from his pocket a small photograph and stared at it. It was the thing he had been drawing strength from all year long. It had been taken at his fifteenth birthday the moment he was opening his presents. He looked at his mother as she bent to kiss his miniature self and his father ruffled his hair.

But Dad hadn't told him about this. He had talked about the good old days and about the privileged and rights of the purebloods, but he forgot to mention the Dark Lord's method of persuasion. Now all his arrogance and desire to be a Death Eater was forgotten and all that motivated him was fear.

Fear of what was in store for his family and himself if he failed. Fear of the Cruciatus Curse. Fear of a slow and agonizing death. Fear of seeing his parents being Crusio'ed into insanity, just like the Longbottoms, the Dark Lord had said laughing. Draco felt his skin crawl. He didn't know that Longbottom's parents were insane, their wits lost to an unforgivable curse. Then the Dark Lord called a Dementor in the room. The thing slid soundlessly, the temperature dropping, dreadful thoughts filling Draco's head. The Dementor stood beside the Dark Lord, it's face hidden behind its hood, its breath rattling like the last breath of a dying man.

"This is a Dementor," the Dark Lord said. "And I shall see that it performs its Kiss on both your parents. You will see them, soulless drooling live corpses before I kill you."

Draco barely found the voice to swear that he would very soon produce results. But the thing was, he wasn't. He couldn't. A sob rose up from deep inside him. Draco tried to suppress it, but if it didn't come out it would drown him. And after that sob came another one and another one. And soon he was crying, tears trickling down his cheeks like spring rain. What would he do...?

****

Before I leave this place forever I have done three things. I kissed my mother and father goodbye. I told them I must leave for a mission and it shall be a while until they see me again. I have written a letter to Sirius. I tell him that the dark Lord wants him dead and has sent a wizard to kill him. And that the Dark Lord has been informed about a Prophecy and is greatly disturbed by it. I have given the letter and this journal to Kreacher. The journal to hide until a person of power may read it and destroy the Dark Lord for ever. And the letter to send.

I am weak now. Weaker by the minute. I shall hide the locket here, Kreacher shall see to it, he is faithful. I will return to destroy it. Now I have to leave, lure the Death Eaters that the Dark Lord sends to kill me away from here.

I can see it in my mind's eye. The will corner me in Strangers Close. He will send his most devoted. Snape, Crouch, the Lestrange brothers, Dolohov, Crabbe, Goyle and of course Lucius. The Dark Lord will take a perverse pleasure in ordering Lucius to do it. It shall be his punishment for warning me. There shall be a brief fight where I hex Snape and jinx Rodolphus. But I am weak and Lucius's stupefying curse will be the end of me. Lucius will lift his wand slowly. His eyes are the colour of cold steel but he hesitates.

"Narcissa will not be happy," I shall say.

"No, she will not," Lucius will reply still his wand reluctant.

"Send her my love."

"I shall."

"Oh come on already," young impatient Crouch will shout. "You are a traitor and a coward," he'll spit, "you deserve death, Regulus. No one disobeys the Dark Lord. Let your fate be an example to all. Avada Kedavra."

And a green light will come out of Crouch's wand. And that is the end...