The Search Is Over

Chapter 16

Chapter 16: R.A.B

Regulus was in no way prepared for what hit him as he threaded his way home through downtown London. Sensory overload did not at all cover what he was experiencing. Smells were sharper, sounds seemed far louder even if they weren't, but even worse he heard everything! What once seemed to be a single sound now had layers! For instance, it seemed that Muggle motor cars made about fifteen sounds at once, all in the motor itself! Never mind the other nine or so sounds made by the tires rolling over minute bits of gravel, the parts of the car touching other parts as it moved and the Muggles inside of the things.

If the sounds weren't bad enough, he could hear everyone's thoughts even more clearly than the words they uttered aloud. So many people surrounded him thinking so many different sorts of thoughts. People could not constantly speak, but they could and did constantly think! They all had meaningless little lives for the most part and their thoughts were petty and small, which only served to make hearing them all even more annoying and obnoxiously distracting. Mind reading was a curse, and being aware of what people actually filled their heads with was depressing. How had the human race survived for so long? Now he would hear all of this madness forever! He hated Voldemort all the more for being the reason he'd done this to himself.

It was no wonder some young vampires went feral or mad, Regulus thought as he struggled to hold it together. As soon as this was done, he would dedicate his full attention to learning everything Dora had to teach him. With Kreacher there to help him focus, it would be far better and less overwhelming, he assured himself. At that thought, his mind turned to how he would explain his choice to become a vampire to his best friend. What would Kreacher think? Surely he would understand that it was necessary to keep them alive. He couldn't tell him yet, though. He didn't want Kreacher distracted with worrying over him when they had one last thing to accomplish before this could stop.

When at last he reached Grimmauld Place, Regulus rushed inside and directly up to his room. Reaching up to the top of his wardrobe he drew down a heavy oak chest covered in ornate runic carvings. A large silver Black family crest glittered from the center of the lid. Throwing back the lid, he rummaged around, pushing aside heavy antique bracelets and emerald cuff links. These were family heirlooms passed down to him on his sixteenth birthday, but he rarely had cause to wear them. At last he found what he wanted nestled in a black silk bag nearly at the bottom of the chest. It was an ornate locket sporting two large faceted green emeralds, one on the front and the other on the back. Even though the lamp that lit the room was dim, the stones caught the light and glittered as Regulus turned the heavy necklace in his hand. It was a piece of Black family history passed down through the generations for nearly five centuries. Though Regulus regretted what he had to do with it, the piece of jewelry hardly seemed more important than what had been done to Kreacher, or Bella and the Lestranges. It certainly wasn't more valuable than his father's life and Voldemort had to pay for taking that life. Sighing as he silently vowed to hold it together for just a little longer, Regulus slipped the Black family emerald locket into a pocket of his robe, then replaced the jewelry chest on top of the wardrobe. Moving to his desk he sat down and drew quill and parchment toward him. His hand shook slightly as he dipped the quill into the ink. Hopefully this act would make up for what Regulus had allowed to befall Kreacher. Hopefully the elf would see it that way. And his father...if Orion's spirit could still see him...

Closing his eyes, Regulus shuddered, once more struggling to hold it together. (Daddy, I am so very sorry! I love you. I miss you, and I will make him pay!) The words, silently spoken in Regulus's mind, would break him if he so much as allowed himself to whisper them aloud to the silent still room. He blinked hard, pushing back the tears that sprang to his eyes, for at present he could not allow himself to grieve. Not yet. Not until it was done. Taking a deep breath, Regulus began to write his one and only letter to Voldemort. He wanted the Dark Lord to know that he hadn't gotten away with nearly killing Kreacher, killing his father, and doing only the gods knew what to Bellatrix and the Lestranges. He wanted him to know that someone would bring him down. Regulus planned to make sure someone did so even if it wasn't him. He had lost enough and wouldn't risk Kreacher again or himself. Leaving Kreacher was hardly a way to apologize to the elf for anything. Once the letter was complete, Regulus chose to sign it with his initials alone. He did not wish to implicate his family by outright stating his name, but the Dark Lord would be able to make a very very educated guess, and if someone else found it, they would never know who had written it. With that done, Regulus performed a drying charm on the ink, then folded the parchment over and over until it was a small square that would fit into the locket. Withdrawing it from his pocket, he placed the letter inside, then hung the locket around his neck for safe keeping.