Chapter Text
June 5th, 1979
The cave was dark, darker than he thought it could ever be. Darker than the fabric of his cloak, darker than the deepest fault into the depth of the ocean nearby, darker than the smile of Death itself. The silence felt heavy, oppressive, almost unnatural. Somehow, he knew, it was the case. There, concealed in the shadows, lay the corpses of the ones who had fallen before him, not alive and yet not dead, only waiting for something to disturb their sleep.
Water. He needed water.
The first sip from the basin had been sour and had set his mouth on fire, and it had taken him everything he had not to spit it out. He had reluctantly swallowed the cold liquid, feeling it burn everything on its passage before finally settling in his stomach. But there had been one more sip, and another one, and he had rapidly lost the count, just trying to forget the terrible pain that he felt, that feeling that millions of insects were crawling under his skin and eating his flesh from the inside, that incandescent daggers were stabbing him, or that invisible hands were trying to tear him apart.
And his throat.
It was so dried it felt like an old parchment craving for ink on its surface, only he craved for water and he could not conjure any from his wand. He was so thirsty.
“Master,” he heard a raspy voice say.
He ignored it and blinked rapidly, trying to focus. His head was painful, still filled with the terrible memories he had had to relieve, and he felt his strength leave him rapidly. He needed to move. He needed to find something to drink. Curse the voice. There had to be some water nearby, and he had to find it. He looked around, and stilled. He was on an island, in the middle of a lake.
Wait, why was he on an island again?
No, he could not let his mind wander. There was some water only a few meters from him, tempting him, and he had to drink it now. Slowly, painfully, he dragged himself near the shore, trying to reach for a drop of the dark liquid.
He could almost taste it.
“Master needs to stop, Master needs to keep his strength if he wants to survive.”
The voice was there again, but he could not remember whom it belonged to. Yet, he knew it, and he struggled to find its owner. Was it a family member? A friend? A manservant?
Kreacher, he suddenly recalled, and he stopped, looking in the direction of the voice. The elf was there, not far away from where he had been, looking anxious. There was a basin next to him, and he had a shell in his hands, holding it as if it were some sort of cup.
A cup. Yes, that was a cup, he remembered now. It was a cup and he had drunk from it, drunk the poison that was now seeping through his veins. Why had he done such a thing?
No, such questions could wait. He had to drink water.
“No!” he heard Kreacher cry in terror, “Master mustn't touch the water! Bad things in the water, dark things.”
Yes, he realized, inferi. His thoughts were somehow clearer now, and he remembered the elf telling him about the dark creatures. Telling him about the basin. Telling him about the locket.
The locket that was in Kreacher's right hand.
Oh.
The cave. The mission. The exchange. Had Kreacher taken care of it? He must have, it had been an order. Put the false locket into the basin as soon as I've drunk everything, and keep the original.
“Master has to come home, now,” he heard the elf say nervously. "Master has to come home and rest, Kreacher will take care of his master."
Home? No, he could not go home. He had just betrayed his own Master, and he knew that the only thing he could do now was to die before He found out. If he dived his hand into the lake, he would have everything he wanted right now. Water, and death.
“Go back home, Kreacher,” he told his servant. His voice sounded strange in his own ears, hoarse from thirst and pain. “This is an order. Go back, and destroy the locket as soon as you arrive. Never, ever tell Mother what happened.”
Kreacher gave out a heart-breaking cry and fell to the ground, begging his Master to lift his order. Ignoring him, Regulus put both of his hands into the water, finally reaching for the precious liquid and pouring it hastily in his mouth. He had not been able to drink more than a sip of it when a sudden movement on the surface of the lake caught his eye, and a pale hand appeared before pulling at his wrist, hauling him towards the water’s edge. Another one appeared and grabbed his hairs and, before long, dozens of wet hands were holding him, taking him into the depths of the lake.
He could not remember feeling so relaxed in his life.
The water was cool against his skin, a refreshing change after the burning sensation that was finally lessening. Kreacher's cries had stopped the moment his head had entered the lake, and the only sound he could hear now was that of the water moving around him.
The cave had been dark, yet he could see light above him, distorted by the water that isolated him from the ground. Its colour was beautiful. It was not black, as he had previously thought, but deep blue, with green reflections coming from the algae that grew in the lake.
The light coming from above was now fainter, and he closed his eyes, relaxing. The hold of the Inferi seemed to lessen as they dragged him, deeper and deeper, and he knew with a surprising certainty that they were arriving at the bottom of the lake.
His lungs were on fire, but it was nothing like the pain he still felt from the cursed liquid he had drunk. He opened his mouth, releasing a last bubble of air, and the water forced his way into his throat, extinguishing the burning sensation the poison had left.
His body reacted instinctively, trying to find a new source of oxygen, but he knew better. He was too deep into the water, and he had no intention to fight what was going to happen soon. After everything he had had to endure, he would greet Death as an old friend.
As he fell into unconsciousness, Regulus Black opened his eyes one last time, engraving forever the image of the sapphire sky above him on his retina.