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THE EARLY MORNING
eight hours
REGULUS SAT IN his boat. The Dark Lord had made the locket almost impossible to find and not accessible by magic. His only companion was Kreacher, perhaps the only person he truly respected anymore.
He closed his eyes and felt the wind as Kreacher guided the boat. The salt sprayed on his lips and his eyes, making them burn. He could feel the water both hydrating and drying his skin in a bitter paradox.
He licked his cracking lips as he breathed in and out deeply. He had prepared himself for this, but it's never the same in the actual moment. He looked over at the small pack. It held food, his wand and a letter.
Carefully, slowly, he reached over and grabbed it. Opening it up, he saw the slices of bread, neatly stacked, slathered with butter. He had snuck out late that night and his mother was a light sleeper.
As he weighed the bread in his hands, almost as if they were determining whether or not he was actually going to go through with it, he finally saw it. He stood as he glimpsed the entrance to the cave for the first time.
He could already feel the dark magic ebbing inside of it. He had the same feeling as he did that night in the alley. He could still see the crazed look in his eye and the blood gushing from his hands.
To think that he had used that thing on Kreacher, disgusted Regulus to no end. If Regulus Black knew anything, it's that you protect your friends and your family no matter what.
He stayed standing as he tore a piece of the bread off and shoved it into his mouth as he stared, wide eyed, at the mouth of the cave.
"We're almost there, master," Kreacher said.
"Good man, Kreacher," Regulus exclaimed. "Have some bread, here."
"We're friends, Kreacher," Regulus replied with a wisp of a smile.
"Friends," Kreacher repeated. "Friends."
The house elf carefully took the piece of bread that Regulus had offered him and bit down. Regulus retreated back to where he had been originally sitting. After finishing another slice of bread, he wiped his hands on his pants and gingerly lifted up the letter.
It was simple, as was the message. And yet, it held so much weight.
Its contents told of treacherous nights and deafening screams on the tops of foreign, yet familiar hills. It told a story of love and loss.
Regulus sighed, unfolded it and scanned it again, making sure every word was right. Every coma was in place. He couldn't read it anymore, the crashing in his ears suddenly becoming too loud. He folded it again on the worn lines and stashed it.
"We're almost at the entrance, master," Kreacher called back to him. "There's still time to turn back."
