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THE LACK OF AIR WAS TUGGING AT HIS LUNGS, making it hard for him to breathe. He struggled, and screamed, as the waves came crashing down on him. Desperate hands tried to pull him down at very bottom of pitch black nothingness. And all that he could hear was his muffled pleas of help, despite him knowing that nobody was going to save him anyway. He suddenly heard a voice calling out to him from the shore above, although he couldn't quite tell who it was because the water started to make his eyesight blurry.
"Black! Wake up!" He jolted up on his seat, his eyes still foggy from his sleep. Fixing his vision, he noticed his fellow Slytherin that was in the same compartment as him on the Hogwarts Express, in front of him, trying to wake him up. And he woke him up indeed.
"We're here." He looked out of the window, seeing students already out the train, ready to start another fresh school year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Regulus stretched in his chair, and got up, head still clouded from slumber. As he got down the famous train, he remembered the nightmare he had just earlier. He watched himself drown, as the waters filled his body effortlessly causing him to meet his fate of death every time he tried to close his eyes to rest. And that dream has been haunting him for the past several months now, almost as if it was prophetic. But he shook the thought off, trying to not let it get into his head. Although every now and then, some of the time, the anxious feeling of drowning tries to creep it's way to his mind.
With his head down he continued to walk, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes. He huffed, his heartbeat still racing at that blasted nightmare. But that's not the only thing that bothered him. Regulus remembered that one meeting with the death eaters and the Dark Lord that kept him tireless as well. He couldn't help but think about it, especially because it had something to do with Caroline.
FLASHBACK.
He was deafened by the silence, as he sat there among the table of fellow wizards and witches who pledged to the Dark Lord's service. At the end of the table, sat the dark wizard himself, who started discussing the things that must be done, under his command. He listened closely, knowing that he was one of the youngest, but still had the will to do his best despite his age. Regulus couldn't help but look down at the mark that continued to remind him what his purpose was. With his fingertips he gently touched it, tracing every detail of it. He didn't know how to feel. All he knew was as long as he was making his pure blood family tree proud, then that's all that really mattered to him. Something Sirius failed to do as the eldest son in their family.
"Miss Wright, May I have a word?" That name suddenly perked his ears up, making his gaze focus on a middle aged woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. Wright? Could it be? Questions swarmed around his mind, thinking hard. This woman approached the Dark Lord with a deadpan expression, listening to every word he uttered unto her.
Flashbacks of Caroline started to unfold upon him. Memories of her on which she would have this gloomy expression on her face at the mention of her family, or whenever he tried to get her to talk about why she was feeling down. It finally all made sense to him, putting all the puzzle pieces together.
