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Another entry to the Laurel_tx RAB fic challenge. It's a short one! Wowser!
Title: At the Hollow
Rating: G
Summary: During the raging of the second war, Harry meets the last of the Blacks and learns how Regulus survived.
ETA: Because I forgot to actually fill the challenge requirements XD. Theeere we go.
“He’s the reason I’m here,” Regulus said to Harry. “Your Godfather. That’s the last time I remember him - the night he saved my life.”
Harry, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand, stared at the thin, shivering creature before him. Regulus Black had not inherited the same face as his brother - his eyes and mouth were shaped very differently, his hair was lighter and curlier, his hands chunkier as he moved around the room, stuffing his meagre possessions into the worn old travelling bag. But he still looked like Sirius - his face bore the same skeletal, haunted aura of a man who had spent a decade in Azkaban. Except that Regulus Black had not gone to Azkaban, merely lived a secret life, a Muggle’s life in this miserable country shack overlooking Godric’s Hollow for seventeen years.
“He said you were killed by Death Eaters,” Harry snarled. “Why would he lie to me?”
“He didn’t know. He thought he was saving someone else.”
The door scraped open and Harry swung his wand around, but it was only Hermione, her tangled hair roughly tamed by a mud-splattered Muggle scarf. There were shadows under her eyes and scratches on the back of her hand. “Harry, we have to go, they could arrive at any moment - isn’t he ready yet?”
“Another minute,” Harry told her. She recognised his leave-me-alone tone and withdrew with an annoyed frown.
“How? How did he save you? What happened?” Harry asked, the moment he knew Hermione would be out of earshot. He was thirsty for stories of Sirius, for that little boost of comfort in the middle of this hideous war zone.
Regulus Black was running his fingers over the mouldering bookshelf nailed against the wall. He obviously knew he would have to abandon most of these books and was bidding them a fond farewell. He glanced back at Harry. “The Death Eaters though I had lost my nerve and revoked my loyalty to the Dark Lord. They would have killed me - except that Severus reached me an instant before they did.”
“Snape?” Harry hissed.
“Yes. Dumbledore had asked him to save me, if he could. I think Dumbledore must have known that I would not reject my... my Master... without some very important reason. When they caught me I was hiding in a house I had enchanted with an anti-Apparating charm, but that worked against me: they sneaked up on me and I had nowhere to run. All Snape could do was slip me a polyjuice potion before Dolohov and the others arrived.”
Harry’s brow twisted in curiosity, “Polyjuice? Why?”
“They would have been able to track a Portkey. I pretended I was Regulus Black’s confused Muggle girlfriend, the reason he had fled the Death Eaters - they broke my wand when they found it, not realising it was mine, and briefly tried to force more information out of me, but I sent them on a wild goose chase and they left me dying on the floor of my hideout. I crawled out of the range of the anti-Apparating charm and, dizzy and weak from blood loss, managed to make one Disapparation - to the only place that came into my head, Sirius’ house.”
Harry watched his Godfather’s brother hunch over, mouth moving silently as he recalled the events of that night. Finally he began to speak again. “Sirius heard me crying and he came out to help me - none of his neighbours responded to my calls. He hadn’t gone into hiding yet - you hadn’t been born, he was still working as an Auror - and he saved me.”
Regulus Black shook his head, smiling. “Ironic, isn’t it? If he had known who I was, his own brother, he probably would have let my die there on the street. But he didn’t recognise my wounds as magical and thought I was just the victim of an assault gone wrong. He healed me up, held my hand and comforted me, called the Muggle ambulance to take me away. The last time I saw him standing in the darkness was as they closed the ambulance doors.”
He straightened up again and began to buckle up the travelling bag. “Of course, the paramedics got rather a shock when the potion wore off and their patient turned into a man halfway to the hospital,” he chuckled to himself and slung the bag over his shoulder.
“And you’ve been in hiding since then?” Harry asked.
“Yes. I never contacted Dumbledore as Snape had told me to - I just slipped away, wandless, into the flurry of the Muggle world. After the war ended I - knowing that Voldemort would one day return - came here, to keep my eyes on the ruins of the Potters’ house, to wait for him. And for you,” Regulus put his hand into his pocket and drew out a long golden chain. His sleeve slipped back and Harry briefly saw that his wrist was a mangled mess of scarred flesh: he had cut the Dark Mark out of his skin. But that was not what interested him. From the end of the chain swung a heavy locket engraved with an ‘S’.
“I don’t think I could have waited this long to give it to you,” Regulus said softly, taking the stunned Harry’s hand and placing the locket on his palm, “if not for the thought of Sirius and that last image I have of him. I never knew what became of him until you arrived here tonight.”
Harry had to swallow a lump in his throat before he could speak. Staring at the locket he whispered, “It’s the last piece. When we couldn’t find it at Grimmauld place, I thought it was hopeless… I thought he'd hidden his soul too well...”
Hermione’s head appeared in the door once more. “ Please, Harry! We have to go!”
“We’re leaving,” Harry closed his hand over the locket and grabbed Regulus’ arm. “We’re finished here.”
He lead the last of Blacks out of the ragged shack and into the misty night. Ron and Hermione, faces grim, joined hands with Harry and with a crack the four of them Disapparated away.
Fin.
Title: At the Hollow
Rating: G
Summary: During the raging of the second war, Harry meets the last of the Blacks and learns how Regulus survived.
ETA: Because I forgot to actually fill the challenge requirements XD. Theeere we go.
“He’s the reason I’m here,” Regulus said to Harry. “Your Godfather. That’s the last time I remember him - the night he saved my life.”
Harry, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand, stared at the thin, shivering creature before him. Regulus Black had not inherited the same face as his brother - his eyes and mouth were shaped very differently, his hair was lighter and curlier, his hands chunkier as he moved around the room, stuffing his meagre possessions into the worn old travelling bag. But he still looked like Sirius - his face bore the same skeletal, haunted aura of a man who had spent a decade in Azkaban. Except that Regulus Black had not gone to Azkaban, merely lived a secret life, a Muggle’s life in this miserable country shack overlooking Godric’s Hollow for seventeen years.
“He said you were killed by Death Eaters,” Harry snarled. “Why would he lie to me?”
“He didn’t know. He thought he was saving someone else.”
The door scraped open and Harry swung his wand around, but it was only Hermione, her tangled hair roughly tamed by a mud-splattered Muggle scarf. There were shadows under her eyes and scratches on the back of her hand. “Harry, we have to go, they could arrive at any moment - isn’t he ready yet?”
“Another minute,” Harry told her. She recognised his leave-me-alone tone and withdrew with an annoyed frown.
“How? How did he save you? What happened?” Harry asked, the moment he knew Hermione would be out of earshot. He was thirsty for stories of Sirius, for that little boost of comfort in the middle of this hideous war zone.
Regulus Black was running his fingers over the mouldering bookshelf nailed against the wall. He obviously knew he would have to abandon most of these books and was bidding them a fond farewell. He glanced back at Harry. “The Death Eaters though I had lost my nerve and revoked my loyalty to the Dark Lord. They would have killed me - except that Severus reached me an instant before they did.”
“Snape?” Harry hissed.
“Yes. Dumbledore had asked him to save me, if he could. I think Dumbledore must have known that I would not reject my... my Master... without some very important reason. When they caught me I was hiding in a house I had enchanted with an anti-Apparating charm, but that worked against me: they sneaked up on me and I had nowhere to run. All Snape could do was slip me a polyjuice potion before Dolohov and the others arrived.”
Harry’s brow twisted in curiosity, “Polyjuice? Why?”
“They would have been able to track a Portkey. I pretended I was Regulus Black’s confused Muggle girlfriend, the reason he had fled the Death Eaters - they broke my wand when they found it, not realising it was mine, and briefly tried to force more information out of me, but I sent them on a wild goose chase and they left me dying on the floor of my hideout. I crawled out of the range of the anti-Apparating charm and, dizzy and weak from blood loss, managed to make one Disapparation - to the only place that came into my head, Sirius’ house.”
Harry watched his Godfather’s brother hunch over, mouth moving silently as he recalled the events of that night. Finally he began to speak again. “Sirius heard me crying and he came out to help me - none of his neighbours responded to my calls. He hadn’t gone into hiding yet - you hadn’t been born, he was still working as an Auror - and he saved me.”
Regulus Black shook his head, smiling. “Ironic, isn’t it? If he had known who I was, his own brother, he probably would have let my die there on the street. But he didn’t recognise my wounds as magical and thought I was just the victim of an assault gone wrong. He healed me up, held my hand and comforted me, called the Muggle ambulance to take me away. The last time I saw him standing in the darkness was as they closed the ambulance doors.”
He straightened up again and began to buckle up the travelling bag. “Of course, the paramedics got rather a shock when the potion wore off and their patient turned into a man halfway to the hospital,” he chuckled to himself and slung the bag over his shoulder.
“And you’ve been in hiding since then?” Harry asked.
“Yes. I never contacted Dumbledore as Snape had told me to - I just slipped away, wandless, into the flurry of the Muggle world. After the war ended I - knowing that Voldemort would one day return - came here, to keep my eyes on the ruins of the Potters’ house, to wait for him. And for you,” Regulus put his hand into his pocket and drew out a long golden chain. His sleeve slipped back and Harry briefly saw that his wrist was a mangled mess of scarred flesh: he had cut the Dark Mark out of his skin. But that was not what interested him. From the end of the chain swung a heavy locket engraved with an ‘S’.
“I don’t think I could have waited this long to give it to you,” Regulus said softly, taking the stunned Harry’s hand and placing the locket on his palm, “if not for the thought of Sirius and that last image I have of him. I never knew what became of him until you arrived here tonight.”
Harry had to swallow a lump in his throat before he could speak. Staring at the locket he whispered, “It’s the last piece. When we couldn’t find it at Grimmauld place, I thought it was hopeless… I thought he'd hidden his soul too well...”
Hermione’s head appeared in the door once more. “ Please, Harry! We have to go!”
“We’re leaving,” Harry closed his hand over the locket and grabbed Regulus’ arm. “We’re finished here.”
He lead the last of Blacks out of the ragged shack and into the misty night. Ron and Hermione, faces grim, joined hands with Harry and with a crack the four of them Disapparated away.
Fin.