Creatures of the Cave

Author Notes: Written for Omniocular's January 2006 challenge. Many thanks to my beta, Lazy_neutrino!

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Shrieks of pain still rang in his ears when his feet met the kitchen floor.

Safe.

No, he wasn't. That was a stupid, childish thought. Mama, mama, help me! Mama, they want to hurt me! No. Running to mother wouldn't help this time. Not this time. She mustn't even know I'm here.

He realised he was trembling. His feet suddenly felt very heavy and refused to work. I must not panic now. It was a bad situation, but he'd been in bad situations before.

(But not like this. This was worse.)

He stood in the familiar kitchen, and wondered if he would ever see it again. The kitchen, home, family - would they cease to exist for him? He wasn't ready. Never ready. He had always been afraid of death. Was that why he joined the Death Eaters in the first place? He couldn't remember any more.

There was fresh blood on his robes; not his. Dirty blood. That's what he was taught. Mudbloods don't belong here. Their dirty blood destroys our kind. Was that why he joined the Death Eaters? He didn't care any more.

He didn't want to think of the bloodstains, but in his eyes the curse slit the Mudblood's throat open again and again. That curse had finally killed the Mudblood, but before... no, he couldn't think about it. And still he couldn't help remembering. The laughter. Well done, Regulus. Your first kill, wasn't it? He had felt sick behind his mask - the mask which he had forgotten somewhere before Disapparating out of hell.

There was no time. They would soon realise that he was not going to return, and this was where they would search first. He had to get away. There was no time. But he needed something before he left.

A silent thud made his heart pound like a hammer. They are coming for me! But there was no one there, only wind blowing outside and the sound of tree branches hitting the kitchen window. He had to go on! His feet felt like lead, and he felt he was going to throw up again.

I don't want to die.

There was no way out, but he had to try. Even now he felt the Dark Mark aching. He is calling for me. Soon the pain would become unbearable. He knew how it went. The pain of the Mark slowly increasing, finally making you crazy or unable to resist its call. If you can resist the command to Apparate the pain will still paralyse you and make you easy prey. Then, if you were lucky, a quick Avada Kedavra, or else a period of pain and humiliation before the end. I mustn't beg for mercy, that only irritates them.

Did he have any chance at all?

He knew what he was going to do. Oddly, he had planned this hundreds of times. He never let the images slip into his thoughts while in the proximity of the Dark Lord - it was said that he could read thoughts. But in secrecy, he had woven a plan.

He knocked on the cupboard door three times. At first nothing happened, but just as he was going to knock again he heard a loud, long yawn inside.

"Who is it? Who wants to wake up poor Kreacher in the middle of the night?"

"Hush, be quiet! It's me. I need your help, Kreacher."

The house-elf peeked out of the cupboard that was his home. "Young master Regulus," he said, in a much quieter voice this time. "What is it? Master looks distressed. Is he in trouble? Kreacher will do anything to help master Regulus, oh yes, he will!"

"That's good," said Regulus, trying to shrug off the horrible feeling that there wasn't enough time for this conversation. "Because your help is just what I need. Do you have the black lacquer box I once gave you to guard? Good. Give it to me, and then you can go back to sleep. If someone arrives here and asks for me, you haven't seen me. More importantly, you must not tell them about the box, and what's inside it."

Kreacher was watching him intently with his enormous eyes. "Is master Regulus in trouble? Kreacher wonders..."

"Just give me the box, Kreacher."

It was a foolhardy plan, and there was little chance of success. But he was the only one who could do it, and he wanted...

A revenge.

The hatred inside him - so powerful. Wasn't that just what the Dark Lord had been teaching to his minions? Only the power of hatred was turned against Him now.

Kreacher brought him the beautifully decorated box, but refused to leave him. The poor house-elf was in distress. He had always favoured Regulus, and now he seemed to know things had gone badly wrong for his master. Kreacher clenched the hem of his robes, ignoring the bloodstains.

Regulus didn't have the heart to order the house-elf to leave. The Death Eaters would arrive any moment now. Would they be willing to torture a house-elf for information? Most likely. Moreover, (this was difficult to admit) he was frightened, and wanted a companion. Someone to talk to before the end.

"Change of plan, Kreacher. You can come with me if you want. This is not an order; it's dangerous where I go, and your life may be in danger. But it's not exactly safe to stay here, either. What do you want to do?"

The house-elf's little hand clenched his robes even tighter. "Master asked what Kreacher wants to do! No one has ever given Kreacher a choice before. Kreacher knows what he wants, but can he tell it to his master? Shouldn't Kreacher wait for master's orders...?"

There was no time for this. Civilized discussion with a house-elf seemed impossible, but he didn't want to order Kreacher to his death.

"I'm going now, Kreacher. Will you come or stay?"

The house-elf squeaked. "Kreacher goes wherever master goes."

Relief in the middle of horror. At least he didn't have to go there alone.

* * * * *

This wasn't the first time he was in the cave. It was old Angus Rosier who had taken him there first, eager to teach him the basics of Inferi care so that Regulus could take his place as the guardian of the undead. Old Angus had been relieved to go, but he was never given the promotion he had dreamed of - he vanished in unclear circumstances a couple of days after Regulus's first visit in the cave.

Since then, Regulus had been in the cave several times, mostly when a brand new Inferius joined Lord Voldemort's army. He had carried naked dead bodies to the cauldron that re-animated them into their eternal servitude. He had learned to control the Inferi with spells that required more than mere willpower - spells he knew were slowly corrupting him. He had done all this because he was asked to, and because he was stupid enough to think that he was tested somehow - if he showed enough determination and courage, he would be taught the deepest secrets of the Dark Lord.

As if.

Now he was back, but the Inferi weren't his target this time.

"What is this place, master?" Kreacher was glancing around nervously, never leaving his side. Regulus didn't answer. He pulled out the black box that he had pocketed before, and took out an ornamental dagger for the mandatory blood offering. Part of the stony wall vanished, and they were now facing the underground lake.

The Inferi were calling him. After sharing such a powerful Dark magic connection with them, he couldn't avoid feeling their oppressing presence in the cave. It was harder than ever to resist their call. How much easier it would have been just to step into the lake and let the undead drag him to the depths. But Kreacher was urging him on, and Regulus found enough strength to fight the call of the Inferi.

"There should be a boat somewhere. Search for the traces of magic."

It hadn't taken him long to realise that the Inferi weren't just kept in stock in the cave - they were guarding something. It had taken him a bit longer to find the way to the island where the magical object was kept, but even though he now knew what the object looked like, he had no idea of what it was, and only a vague idea of how he could steal it. But stealing it was just what he was going to do. The object was clearly important to the Dark Lord, and even though he didn't believe he could bargain his life for it, the loss of something his Lord needed a horde of Inferi to guard was a suitable revenge for destroying his life.

I don't want to die.

Almost as an answer to his thought, the burning sensation of the Dark Mark intensified, making him bend over and grasp his arm. He could see hardly anything through the haze of pain. This is it. But the pain subsided, as if playing with him, and when he came into his senses Kreacher had found the boat.

Careful now. The memory of pain still fresh in his mind, he tried to catch his breath. The boat took them to the island, and he went straight to the stone basin which held the object of his revenge.

Regulus shuddered. He had come this far, but the task that was still ahead frightened him. I'm too weak. I can't do this myself. He took a glance at Kreacher on his side. He had never seen such a terrified look on a house-elf's face. No, he couldn't force Kreacher to do it. The house-elf was here of his own free will. Besides, he needed him afterwards.

"Kreacher, we don't have much time. I have been here before. There's only one way to do this. I must drink that stuff."

"Master, Kreacher is worried! Kreacher sees this place is full of Dark magic, and he wonders... Kreacher wonders if this cave belongs to the Dark Lord."

"Really?"

"Kreacher thinks master should leave!"

Regulus shook his head. "I have come this far, and I will not retreat now." There was another wave of pain as the Dark Lord summoned his lost lamb. It made him cry aloud. "Yes, Kreacher. This is the Dark Lord's lair. But I'm not going to leave. At least not before I take something from him. He has betrayed me, and he must pay for it."

"No, master, no! You must not do that. You must not help the blood traitors! Master has forgotten he comes from the noble house of Black!"

"No... I haven't," whispered Regulus between the waves of pain. "Now, Kreacher, don't let me stop drinking until the basin is empty!" He found a cup in his lacquer box, took some of the liquid into the cup, and raised it to his lips. In an instant, he was reliving the final moments of Voldemort's victims - those who became Inferi afterwards.

He saw his house burning down. He saw a white-masked Death Eater hit him with a killing curse. He screamed as they killed his family - one by one - and made him watch. He tried hopelessly to get away as his unworthy blood coloured the bed sheets. He ran away from magic he didn't even believe in. He couldn't fight off the Imperius as they forced him to kill his own wife.

"Drink, master." Kreacher put something on his lips.

Now he was in the lake, his body cold and skin pale - he was one of the Inferi. The others were calling him, and now he understood their words. Come and join us, Regulus Black. We are waiting for you. We are endlessly guarding his Horcrux, and so will you. So will you.

He fought off the touch of their icy hands, and managed to retrieve his consciousness.

A Horcrux? That locket is a Horcrux? Now I understand... I must get it!

"You must drink this, master."

Someone lifted his cold, lifeless body and put it inside a huge cauldron. He was going to become an Inferius. He already felt his body stirring. His nails were clawing his chest, his lungs were filled with foul liquid. In agony, he remembered all his deaths. He didn't know his name any more.

"Master Regulus! Master Regulus, you must wake up!"

Yes. I must wake up. Must complete my task. The Horcrux!

He opened his eyes to see Kreacher bending over his body, still holding the empty cup in his skinny hand. Regulus tried to talk, but there was a rotten taste in his mouth that made him feel ill. He couldn't think of anything else than water to clean his mouth as he snatched the cup out of the elf's hand.

"Master, no!" shouted Kreacher, but he had already plunged the cup into the lake.

The Inferi came for him. His voice was feeble as he shouted the command-spell, but they turned away, albeit reluctantly. He was still their guardian. Regulus drank long, then staggered to his feet.

Now was the time. He didn't dare to think of the future. The only thing that mattered was the stone basin, and the locket at the bottom. The Dark Lord's Horcrux. Almost impossible to believe he was holding it in his hands.

"Give me that box." Did he imagine it or was Kreacher reluctant to obey? It didn't matter now. He took out the third and final object from the black box. It was his mother's locket, about the same size as the Horcrux in his hand. He had planned this a long ago, never actually believing he would have guts to go all the way in the end. But here he was, not stopped by the obstacles placed by the Dark Lord. He has taught me well. And now he will pay.

The pain of the Dark Mark deepened. Suddenly he was happy that Kreacher was there with him. The house-elf held his hand as he cried aloud again. Conflicting thoughts in his mind. I must Apparate to him! No, I must hide the Horcrux first! No, I can't... the pain...

He couldn't do it. He had no energy left to go and hide the Horcrux, not while the Inferi were calling him and the burning Dark Mark was torturing him.

But Kreacher was there. The elf would help, wouldn't him?

"Kreacher, there's still something I want you to do."

He put the Horcrux in the elegant black box, closed the lid, and gave the box to the house-elf. "Take this home, and hide it well. Never let the Dark Lord find it."

"Doesn't master come home? Young master Regulus doesn't feel well. Kreacher doesn't want to leave him here..."

"Kreacher, you must go. Tell mother that I wanted to quit... But don't show the box to anyone. Keep it hidden." The pain made him gasp. "There's no time, Kreacher, go now! Please!"

The house-elf's eyes widened, and then he was gone with a 'crack'.

He was alone. I'm going to die. Suddenly he was very calm. There was still time to write a little farewell note to the Dark Lord. He conjured a quill, and some ink and paper. His hand was trembling as he wrote, but it still felt good to have the final word.

* * * * *

A house-elf was standing on a lone rock, wringing his hands and shivering furiously. He had been a bad house-elf, not Apparating straight back home as his master had commanded. The house-elf's instinct forced him to obey the order, but he had to sort out the conflict in his mind first.

Master had betrayed his kind. Master was helping the Mudbloods. The Dark Lord's stolen treasure was in Kreacher's hands, and poor Kreacher was asked to hide it from the Dark Lord.

"Kreacher won't help the filthy Mudbloods, he won't!"

Miss Bellatrix was family, wasn't she? Kreacher could take the treasure to her. Miss Bellatrix would know what to do.

That wasn't what master meant. He said the thing should be hid from the Dark Lord. Master trusts Kreacher. He is always so kind to Kreacher, not like his brother...

The house-elf sniffed loudly. Master could be dead already. Poor master, alone in that cave with those horrible, horrible... creatures. Kreacher had smelled the poison in the liquid master had drunk. It was only a matter of time.

But master's last order was forcing him to go.

"Master must have his reasons. He is a good boy. Not a blood traitor." Kreacher was worried about him, that was why he wanted to come along. Master had looked so scared. They want to hurt him. Now Kreacher understood.

It was nothing to do with the Mudblood scum in the end. All that mattered was that he should help his master. Not because he was a good house-elf, but because his master had always been a good master to Kreacher.

Kreacher sniffed again, and again. His eyes were suddenly cloudy, and there was something in his throat. What was this? He couldn't possibly be crying, could he?

Kreacher wiped the embarrassing tears away vigorously. "Stupid elf... Kreacher has work to do!"