The Art of Dying - R. Black

sixty

Regulus Black

October 27th, 1981

Within two weeks of Meredith dying, Evan was murdered. Once again, I found out through the Daily Prophet. And for the first month or so, it felt like grief had me in a chokehold, and I was just going through the motions of life.

I don't even know how to feel about everything. The love of my life and one of my best friends were both dead.

When I read about how Meredith died, I wanted to know exactly whose fault it was, who killed her. Then I realized that I'd probably never find out. When I read about how Evan died, I could clearly picture it. He was probably being a git, claiming that he could take down Alastor Moody in a duel. He probably didn't even see it coming.

It's ten times worse than when I found out my father died. I read about it in the Prophet a month after I went on the run. His illness had finally caught up to him. I felt some peace in knowing that he wasn't suffering anymore.

Emma Vanity died, as well. I didn't even know that she had ended up marrying Nott, or that she had a son with him. The list of casualties just kept increasing, on both sides, but the Order seemed to be suffering the most.

Kreacher hid the locket for me, and Pandora has been helping me try to figure out how to destroy it. But, it's been over two years and we haven't found anything yet. Everyday I wake up and hope that we'll find the answer, that it'll just be standing right in front of me. The sooner we find out how to destroy the Horcrux, the sooner we can kill Voldemort for good.

I've been in Athens for over three months, and I know that I should probably move again, but I don't want to leave. Living where she wanted to go gives me some sort of comfort. Plus, I have a nice flat, and something semi-permanent for the first time in over two years.

I'm not happy, but at least I have the potential to be here.

I live in a one bedroom flat on the third floor of a building made out of white stone. It's nice, all things considered. My neighbors keep to themselves and I have a small balcony.

Most of the time, I stay away from the wizarding areas. But I do check the newsstands everyday, searching for copies of the Daily Prophet. I don't venture much further. I check for Pandora's name, for Sirius's name. And every day that I don't see their names, I let out a breath that I didn't know I had been holding in.

A lot of days I wonder how Sirius is doing. I know his friends, James and Lily, had a son, but I don't actually know anything about my brother. I just hope that he's okay.

I haven't really spoken to Sirius since the summer before I started fourth year. The summer that he ran away. We had been so close when we were little, but something shifted ever so slightly the day that I was sorted into Slytherin and not Gryffindor. We were close until Sirius went into fourth year. His friends proved to be a greater comfort than I ever could, and they became his brother's.

Ever since Sirius came home for Christmas holiday during his first year, all he did was rave on about James Potter. As the years went by, Sirius stopped spending time with me and started spending his time with James. When he wasn't with James, he was with Remus, or Peter.

I had completely lost Sirius by the time that the summer before his fifth year rolled around. My mother had gotten more aggressive with her methods of discipline. I hid up in my room until the yelling stopped. I should've stepped in, stood up for my brother, but every time I tried it felt like my feet were permanently stuck to the floor.

Sirius was always the brave one, not me.

The kettle whistled, pulling me back to reality. I grabbed a tea bag and poured the boiling water into my mug. Almost everyone around here is a coffee drinker, but I didn't like it that much. Plus, I think tea reminds me of my life before I went on the run.

While my tea steeped on the counter, I opened the fridge, only to be met with empty shelves. I groaned, closing the door. I usually go to the market on Thursday mornings, but I guess I'll have to go today if I don't want to starve.

I finished off my tea by the time that I was ready to leave. I made sure to grab money from my bedroom and lock my door.

It was a short walk to the market. I only live two blocks away, so it's actually quite convenient.

The temperature was starting to cool off as October was coming to an end. Compared to the weather in Scotland and England, it was still warm to me.

The atmosphere of the open-air market was busy. People were bustling around from booth to booth, arms filled with a variety of things. It reminded me of Diagon Alley, which is probably why I get the vast majority of my groceries here.

I weaved my way through the groups of people, picking up on bits and pieces of their conversations.

Through the three months that I've lived here, I've noticed that most people speak English. A lot of people have good enough English to understand what I'm saying and answer me. But in the market, there was a lot of Greek spoken.

I've been attempting to learn the language, but failing horribly. It's so different from English or French that I can only say basic greetings and understand simple sentences. It was actually pretty humbling not being able to be a know-it-all for once.

I walked further into the market, taking note of the new booths.

The smell of cigarette smoke filled my nose, and I started to walk quicker past the booth.

Two people off to the side were having a heated argument, shouting back and forth. I shifted my attention to them, not watching where I was going.

"Sorry-, excuse me," I said.

The younger woman looked up at me, the unlit cigarette between her fingers dropping to the ground as soon as our eyes met.

Her hair was dark blonde, almost brunette, but her eyes were still the same.

I stared at her for a second, making sure that my mind wasn't playing tricks on me.

"Meredith?"