Chapter Text
As Regulus looks into the mirror he finds a unfamiliar self scruitinizing him back. The man’s hair is dark, contrasting to his pale skin. But thats not what gives Regulus pause. There’s an emptiness in the dark eyes of the man, a hidden numbness under that mask Regulus did recognise, as he’d worn it his entire life.
The ceremonial robes Regulus is wearing are expensive, the trim around the collar and cuffs embroidered with silver constellations. His namesake, the Leo constellation is stitched on his shoulder. The canis major held over his heart which Regulus finds a grim comfort in. Like his brother is always there, protecting his heart. Though, Sirius won’t be much longer. Not with what Regulus is about to do to him, to everyone. Regulus tries to remind himself that he won’t need protecting after tonight. Regulus is trading the shields he had found in the love from others for the power to shield them. To protect those he loves, to forge himself into a shield to protect them when they undoubtedly throw themselves into war in a couple months, after graduation. To forge himself into a weapon to topple those who threaten the peace they all deserve.
Regulus can’t be protected anymore, he’s made that choice already.
When Regulus strides into the large drawing room of the Black Manor he finds Narcissa perched on the velvet couch. The noice of the others in the Dining Hall, waiting for his entrance, muffled by the walls. The fireplace flickers as he passes it to join her. The room—not wholly unfamiliar to Regulus because of the dinners held here through his childhood—is cold and seemingly bare despite the expensive fabrics and relics furnishing it. Its spelled fireplace doing nothing to warm the room, and the plush rugs do the same to soften it.
Narcissa, politely poised on the couch, watches him as he nears. Her black hair has new steaks of blond in it, no doubt to match the Malfoy family of her husband to be. Narcissa, like Regulus, wears a mask. Not one of numbness and ice, but one of delicateness like her name. Narcissa’s lips are painted a deep red not unlike the blood her sister wears like jewlery. Her cheeks are flushed with a rosy blush making her appear innocent and flustered. Her eyes though, give her away to those who are trained to look. To people like Regulus who were taught to read people who hide themselves. Narcissa’s eyes are cold. Unlike her demenor, she is fuming. Her wrath falls on those who never realize she striked until it’s too late.
“I remember you in this room, when you were small. You must have been about eight years old and I fourteen? We had snuck away from the dinner table to sit near the fireplace and share stories,” she beckons him to sit, “I always found myself in you. The youngest sibling with high expectations. That mask I taught you to don to protect yourself.”
Narcissa looks into Regulus’ eyes, searching, “The thing is, I can’t tell the difference anymore. Between the little Reggie who confided in me his struggles, the boy I used to know. All I see now is someone who has lost himself, someone who is numb and has stopped expecting much from life.”
She pauses, “Regulus, it used to be a mask, a facade. But I don’t think it is anymore.”
“Narcissa— ” Regulus starts.
“Don’t go through with it,” she leans forward, whispering, “You have losts so much of yourself already, don’t lose the rest to this horrible family.”
“I have to. I’m the heir, Narcissa.”
“So? Give it up. Go back to those friends of yours at Hogwarts. Go back to your beau. Go back to Sirius.”
“I can’t, not if I give this up. There is war looming on everyone, but they don’t realize it has already started.”
“So protect them.”
“I plan to,” Regulus reveals, “But I can’t without power.”
Narcissa searches Regulus’s eyes for any hesitation.
“So you’ve made your choice then.”
“I have.”
“You will lose yourself. In more ways then one.”
“A sacrifice i’m willing to make.”
She pauses, “A sacrifice. Thats how you see yourself?
Regulus only returns her stare. Narcissa nods then stands, smoothing her dark skirt with a delicately manicured hand.
“I hope for your sake, Regulus, that is not what it comes to.”
…
When Orion stands to indicate the dinner’s end, Regulus is relieved. Regulus had been suffering though the meal, trying to listen to Bellatrix’s praise of the Dark Lord and Walpurga’s scrutiny of Narcissa’s fiance. The dark room had been crowded and the heavy smell of heavy, rich foods did not help Regulus’ nausea.
Bellatrix hands Regulus a ceremonial knife and leads him to a large room in the Black Manor with the Black tapestry much like the one in Grimmauld.
“I have to say Regulus, i’m much more satisfied with you becoming the head of the family than Sirius,” she leans into him and whispers, “Honestly, i’m glad he left. It’s better that way, he was ruining our reputation.”
Regulus feels a rush of fury at Bellatix’ opinion of Sirius. Though, he does agree that it was better for him to leave. Sirius should not have to suffer in a family like this. When he left, the responsibility was passed down to Regulus and he’d much rather handle that burden then beg Sirius come take it back.
“Agreed cousin, I’m much more fit to keep our family pure. Sirius was too reckless, he did not think about his action’s consequences on others,” Regulus lies.
“Quite Reggie,” Bellatrix giggles, “Though, I don’t think I can, in good conscience, call you that anymore. You’ve grown up. Aunt Walpurga has been searching for a proper wife to pair you with. Though, I think your much too young to think about a thing like marriage yet. Tell me Regulus, have you found a bird?
Regulus pictures James and their nights under the stars but pushes the warm thoughts away. James doesn’t belong in this dark place, even in thought.
“Not yet cousin, i’ve been much too focused on my studies and responsabilities to find a suitable wife.”
“Awww. You’re such a swot sometimes, Reggie. Besides, you got to have some kind of an romance? A quick fling?” Bellatrix questions
“As i’ve told you Bella, no,” Regulus repeats.
“Don’t get upset Reggie, I’m just teasing.” She bumps her arm against his, “It’s for the better anyways, Cissy’s fiance is insufferable. They are getting married much too young in my opinion. Everyone just wants them paired because he bears the Mark.”
“Hmm.” Regulus offers, unsheathing the knife she had giften him.
“He does not deserve it, our Dark Lord places too much trust in him,” Bellatrix adds.
“Trust? I assumed the Lord placed his trust in no one.” Regulus adds.
“Yes. Quite.” She looks at him oddly, “Though, Malfoy got a package to guard; the Lord stressed its importance.”
“A package?” Regulus inquires, lifting his gaze from the silver knife.
“Hmm. A book. Random if you ask me, he’s probably testing Malfoy’s loyalty.”
Something pricks at the back of Regulus’ mind, but he ignores it, he should focus on the coming ceremony. He can investigate this book later when he is not surrounded by his bloodthirsty family members that had just strolled into the room. Bellatrix lays her hand on his holding the knife, squeezing, then walks to join her sister.
“Maman,” Regulus greets when Walpurga walks up to him.
She grabs his arm, her sharp nails digging into his forearm, and yanks him closer to her. “Don’t disappoint me, Regulus.”
Cygnus takes her place as she walks back to Orion. His uncle leads him to kneel on the dark carpet in front of the family tapestry. Regulus’ name and picture faces him, the spot where Sirius used to be blasted off of the family’s history.
All of Regulus’ family—except for Sirius and Andromeda— circles around Regulus’s position. Cygnus and Druella standing next to their daughters. Regulus makes eye contact with Narcissa and she stares back until he glances away.
Regulus lifts the silver knife Bellatrix had gifted him. It’s a beautiful peice of work—no doubt goblin made from the family collection—the silver of the blade etched with black lines. The handle Regulus cradles is a white ivory, the designs from the blade continuing down the grip.
Once the light has dimmed in the room and the candles set around the family are lit, Regulus raises the dagger and slices a line down his forearm. The dark blood shines in the dim light as it drips down. Once the blood hits the floor a drop of magik mixes with the blood now flowing. A drop of magik sacrificed.
His bloodline begins to chant,
“Vōs annecto tuum magik ad obscurum.”
“I bind my magik to the dark,” Regulus offers.
“Vōs linquo lux.”
“I forsake the light.” For Pandora. James.
Bellatrix steps forward
“Vōs pius maneo natales Black.”
“I remain loyal to the Black bloodline.” Sirius.
Bellatrix presses a brand unto his wrist, the white cold burning him. The hot metal cauterizing the cut Regulus had inflicted. She presses the black nail of her thumb into the symbol, the flesh turning white. Bellatrix glances into his eyes, her blood-red lips turned up into a smirk, and she winks at him as she walks back to the gathering.
Regulus stands from the bloodstained floor.
“I stand as the heir to the ancient, pure bloodline of Black. The successor to those gathered in this room. I inherit the power and magik passed down for centuries.”
Everyone kneels.
For Sirius.