Chapter Text
Hogwarts, 18 th November 1976
Regulus glances around before easing open the door as quietly as possible. Which doesn’t do much as the door has incredibly squeaky hinges. Regulus slips into the room, letting it slowly creak shut behind him. He wrinkles his nose at the damp, musty smell that hits him. Mould has started growing on the plaster around the corner of the ceilings making the room even less appealing. With a quick wave of his wand, the smell is replaced with something much fresher. Eucalyptus.
Regulus takes a few steps, the sound echoing off the stone walls. In the middle of the floor was a huge octagonal prism, with a sink on every side. He runs his fingers over the dusty marble, the grates clanging beneath his feet every time he moves.
“Hello?” He asks the empty bathroom, his voice bouncing back at him. He turns and walks over to the two rows of toilet stalls, one on each side of the wall, eight in total. He pushes on the first stall, the door swinging inside. The stall was empty, bar some damp toilet paper, rusty metal pipes and a cracked toilet bowl.
He does the same from the one across the end, and the ones along that row. They all seem to be in the same rundown condition that only happens from lack of care. Abandonment. At least the smell isn’t so bad any longer. As he nears the end stall of the second row, it feels as if the diary in his pocket is growing heavier with each step.
He pushes open the stall door to find...nothing. Looking at the empty space he sighs, hand still on the door. He hears it before he sees it, the sound of rushing water. He looks up at the ceiling where all the rusty pipes connect before the toilet in front of him explodes, dousing him head to toe in dirty, smelly toilet water. Regulus shrieks and jumps back, his hair dripping into his face, his robes soaked.
“Ew, ew, ew!” He cries, patting his pocket desperately for his wand. In doing so, he feels the diary, heavy, hot and not wet. His wet, slippery fingers struggle in trying to take his wand from his pocket, but he eventually manages to extract it from the wet cloth. He quickly casts a few drying and sanitization charms, but he knows he won’t feel clean again until he has a shower. He pulls out the diary, flicking through the pages that seemed as if they hadn’t been touched by any drop of water. He wonders what kind of charm prevented it from being damaged when not actively cast and why exactly there was that kind of protection on it.
He sees a blueish, silvery blur out of the corner of his eye. It could just be a mirage caused by the light and the droplets still clinging to the walls of the bathroom, but Regulus knew better. He watched it without indicating his knowledge of the presence, keeping his head tilted down towards the diary.
The figure grew closer and closer until it- no, she- was merely two meters away from him. Still, he didn’t look up. She was at the point of hovering over his shoulder now, when she spoke.
“Where did you get that from?” Her voice was light and airy, a tint of coyness and feigned innocence to it.
He didn’t jump or look up, only answering her in a monotone voice, not willing to give anything away. “I found it.”
“Where?”
“Why do you want to know?” He finally looks up, taking in the ghost’s appearance. Her hair was tied in pigtails, draped over her shoulders. She had a small face, pouty lips and black framed glasses. She wore Hogwarts robes and by the embroidery on her robes, she was in Ravenclaw, the motto for said house inscripted under the eagle.
“I’ve seen it before.” She nods towards it, her eyes wide. “I’m Moaning Myrtle.”
Regulus shrugs. “Myrtle Elizabeth Warren. Ravenclaw. Died 1943, in this very bathroom, correct?”
Myrtle gasps. “How on earth did you know that?”
“Magic.” Regulus says simply. “I’m Regulus. Regulus Arcturus Black.”
“Ooh, fancy name.” Myrtle squeals. “You know, I’ve always fancied myself a pretty, rich, posh boy.”
“Thank you but I’m not interested.” Regulus says simply. Myrtle pouts. “You said you had seen this diary before?”
“Yes.” She grins. “I gave it away. A gift. There was this boy, Tom. He was a few years older, but he was so charming. He used to tell me how pretty I was and when that bitch Olive Hornby and her awful friends would tease me, he would tell me not to worry about them and kiss my tears away. I loved him. He would leave Hogwarts a year after, but I wanted him to never forget me so for his sixteenth birthday, I saved up all my money and bought him this custom-made diary. My aunt owned a leather shop so it didn’t cost as much as it would for ordinary customers, but it was still all my money spent. Tom said he loved it, but he stopped seeing me for a few months. He said he had his studies to keep up with, oh he was so smart! He used to love looking around the Restricted Section of the library. I’d always ask for a pass, you see, the teachers liked me and so I’d give him the pass and he would spend hours just looking at all the dark magic. I asked him if he wanted to be a curse breaker and if that was why he was looking at such dark spells and he said something along the lines of that. He was so brave. And then...I died.” She sighed mournfully.
Regulus internally rolled his eyes at her dramatics. “How did you die?”
“Well, I was in that very stall-”
“The one that spat water at me. Thanks for that by the way. I needed a shower.” He drawled sarcastically. Myrtle giggled before continuing.
“Yes, Olive was teasing me over my glasses you see, so I came in here to hide. I was crying and then I heard a hissing sound. Like whispering. I peeked my head out to see who was there and all I saw was a pair of yellow eyes and then I couldn’t move. I was staring at the ceiling on the sticky tiles. And then there was a flash of green and everything went dark.”
Regulus frowns. “Yellow eyes. Unable to move? The green was probably the killing curse. And... hissing?” He wracks his brains trying to find some similarities between that and things he had learned before.
“Why do you want to know?”
“What else do you know about Tom?” Regulus asks instead of answering her question.
“He had the most brilliant mind. He loved learning about the founders and their items. He had sketches of Slytherins locket and would always ask me to repeat the story behind the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. He was very curious. He always said that he could speak to snakes, but I never believed him. He absolutely loved snakes. Said he had a pet one.”
“He could speak to snakes?”
“Well, he said so.”
“Parseltongue.” The word comes to the forefront of Regulus’ mind. “Only descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself can speak that.” He traces the Gaunt family tree as far back as possible, but the name Slytherin doesn’t appear as far as he knows.
“He used to tell me about the home he grew up in. And what he knew about his maternal family. He despised his father, Tom Riddle Sr.”
“He told you all this?” Regulus frowned.
“He loved me. I loved him. We told each other everything.”
“How long were you two together for?”
Myrtle frowns. “Beginning of my third year.”
“And you said he was older?”
“Yes. He was fifteen. He was sixteen when I died.”
“And you were, what? Twelve? Thirteen?”
“Thirteen. Why?”
“Ignoring that that fact in itself is a massive red flag, if you two were only together for a few months, how could it be love?” Regulus frowned. “How many months exactly?”
“Well, I died in January. His sixteenth birthday had just passed so it was about four months.”
“Four months.” Regulus echoed. All he could think of was how Tom was very clearly manipulating her. The thought of him being older as well, at such a young age, made his skin crawl. He could feel Lucius’ hands again. Everywhere. He feared that if he looked down, he would see the finger shaped bruises that painted his skin for weeks after. They had long faded, but the memory of the unwanted touch stained his mind, and he knew that it would remain there, permanently, unlike the physical damage. He shook his head, dispelling the thoughts and focusing on the dead girl in front of him. “Did you become a ghost right away?”
“I don’t know.” Myrtle shrugged, pouting. “The afterlife is a funny place. Time doesn’t exist so it’s hard to tell, but Tom never visited me. He must have graduated by the time.”
“He said that he witnessed the last moments of your life.” Regulus blurted out, the fact popping up in his mind.
“Did he?” Myrtle gasps. “Oh Tom.” She sighed and tears began to gather in her eyes. Regulus didn’t know that ghosts could cry.
“But that wouldn’t have made sense. He said that you were killed by a monster. You said you had been killed by a flash of green, the killing curse. That would have killed you straight away. Unless he was in the bathroom at the same time, he wouldn’t have witnessed your last moments.” Regulus mutters to himself and his feet begin to carry him to the sinks. He turns to Myrtle. “Where did you say the hissing came from?”
“I didn’t but there. The sinks. Where you’re standing.” She floats over to him as she traces his hands over the sinks once again. He thinks over everything he has learned today from Myrtle and Tom. “Hissing. Yellow eyes. Green flash. Bathroom. Sinks. Founder heirlooms. Snakes. Parseltongue. Dark arts. Restricted section. Children's home. Cliffs of Moher. Hagrid. Minster. Award. Dumbledore. Magic. Gaunt family. Tom Riddle Sr. Morfin Gaunt. Azkaban. Murder.” He mutters the words to himself as they flash in his mind. Something weird was going on and he did not like it one bit.
“You know you remind me of him.” Myrtle sighs wistfully. “Handsome. Sharp. Intelligent. A little cold. He was always talking to himself too. Oh, how I miss him. He used to play games with me. We would write out our full names and mix up the letters to form different names and words. He used to spell names in French.” She giggled. “He used to always whisper things in French to me. He was quite romantic like that. He used to say this one phrase over and over again; he told me it meant ‘I love you’.”
“Je t’aime?” Regulus suggests.
“Oh, you speak French too? How wonderful. But no, that wasn’t it. It was something like bientôt tu mourras et je serai invincible. He used to say it so much; I can remember the pronunciation correctly!”
Regulus stiffens, his fingers freezing from where they were tracing the gold snakes engraved on the underside of the taps. Bientôt tu mourras et je serai invincible. Soon you will die, and I will be invincible.
That wasn’t even close to the words ‘I love you.’
How did Tom know that she was going to die? And what did he mean by him being invincible?
“He used to say other things too. Je rendrai vos funérailles aussi belles que votre corps. Merci, d’être si confiante. Bientôt, je deviendrai le sorcier le plus puissant de l’histoire. Je ferai ce qu’aucun sorcier n’a fait auparavant. Mon nom sera connu et il sera craint. Oh, he was so sweet.” She gushed.
I will make your funeral as pretty as your corpse. Thank you for being so trusting. Soon, I will become the most powerful wizard in all of history. I shall do what no one has done before. My name okay will be known, and my name will be feared.
Regulus forced himself to breathe as his lungs had squeezed out every ounce of air in shock. “Thank you, Myrtle, but I need to go.”
Myrtle pouted. “Promise you’ll come back? It’s so lonely here. Nobody ever visits poor me.”
“Oh, I will definitely be coming back.” Regulus mutters. “See you soon.” He hurries out of the bathroom, practically sprinting. The sun had begun to set, and a quick tempus charm told him it was six pm. Almost dinner, not that Regulus would be going. He looked down at the diary, not slowing down and running smack bang into Remus fucking Lupin. Great.
“Woah there.” Remus grabs his shoulders to steady him. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Regulus pants, feeling his face turn crimson. Both from exertion and embarrassment. Speaking of the former his lungs were no longer allowing oxygen. There was a weight on his chest and not the metaphorical kind. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry. Where were you going in such a hurry?”
“Library.” Regulus answers, trying to catch his breath still. As it turns out, the top Dorcas had made him was not suited for running and it felt as if his ribs were collapsing in on his lungs as he struggled to take mouthfuls of air.
“Hey, easy there. Come sit down, yeah? Catch your breath.” Remus leads him over to an alcove as Regulus wheezed, trying to protest. His efforts were in vain, as Remus forced him to sit down. “Do you need me to get Madame Pomfrey?”
Regulus quickly shakes his head, forcing his chest to stop heaving while struggling to inhale. He takes a long breath in through his nose and out his mouth. Remus stays, his hand on Regulus’ shoulder a comforting presence, allowing him to ground himself while he concentrates on his breathing. He swallows as his lungs allow him to take proper breaths and nods to indicate that he’s okay.
“What happened? Asthma?” Remus asks.
“Something like that.” Regulus mutters.
“Why were you rushing to the library in such a hurry anyways? It’s closed, by the way. Some Ravenclaw got into a fight and lost control of their powers, flooding the place."
“Sounds like Myrtle.” Regulus mutters to himself. “I needed to research something.” He said to Remus. “A magical creature. Monster.”
“I take Care of Magical Creatures, maybe I could help? What creature was it?”
“Thats the thing. I don’t know.” Regulus sighs. “But just confirm this to me, yeah? Acromantulas don’t have glowing yellow eyes, hiss or cause their victims to become petrified?”
Remus shakes his head. “Nope. That sounds like a basilisk, which spiders typically run from.”
“A basilisk?”
“Giant snakelike creature. If you look it in the eyes, it kills you. If you catch it’s gaze indirectly it petrifies you.”
“What do you mean by indirectly?”
“Like if you see it’s reflection through a window, in a mirror, et cetera.”
“Through the lenses of a pair of glasses?”
Remus shrugs. “Yep. That too.”
“Snakelike?”
“It’s essentially a huge venomous snake that kills with its eyes.”
“Parseltongue.” Regulus whispers to himself. “Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. When you say huge, how huge are we talking here?”
“About fifty feet.” Remus shrugs.
“Fifty feet?!”
“That’s the average. Yes.”
Regulus stood up quickly. Remus tugged on his wrist, standing up too. “And where do you think you’re going?”
“I need to see Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid.”
“The groundskeeper?”
“Yes, him.”
“Why on earth do you need to see him?” Remus frowns.
“I just do.” Regulus tugs his wrist from Remus’s grasp. “I’ll see you later.”
“It’s dark outside!” Remus protests. “And if you get caught, you’ll get in trouble.”
Regulus shrugs. “Simple. I just won’t get caught.” And with that he promptly turns into a cat. Remus yelps and jumps back.
“Fucking hell.”
Regulus meows up at him, before darting down the hallway and out of an open window. It doesn’t take long to get to Hagrid’s hut which is down by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He glances around, his vision enhanced in the dark by his Animagus form before turning back, shivering at the cold that immediately chills his bones. Taking a step forward, he knocks on the door.
Hagrid opens the door, his huge frame towering over Regulus. “Yes?” He asks gruffly. His beard and hair were a tangle of knots, his eyebrows long, wispy and singed. His face was red but not from emotion. He smelled like earth, rich soil and meat.
“January 1943.” Regulus blurts out.
Hagrid grows pale. “Nope. Don’t know what you’re talking about kid.” He growls, moving to close the door.
“Wait!” Regulus cries, stopping the door before it can close fully. “I know you’re innocent. Please. I need to know what really happened, because I know it wasn’t you or your acromantula that killed Myrtle. It had something to do with Tom Riddle, right? And-and a basilisk.”
Hagrid studies him for a moment, before sighing and opening the door wider. “Come in then.”
Regulus sits on a very high, wooden chair at the table which is almost the height of him a few minutes later as Hagrid moves around him, preparing some tea. Regulus accepts the chipped mug gratefully and cradles it, letting it warm his shaking hands.
“So. You say you know I’m innocent. How?” Hagrid sits across from him.
Regulus swallows before he speaks. “In the records it says that your acromantula killed Myrtle.”
“Aragog.” Hagrid confirms. “Severely misunderstood creatures, acromantulas are. Most people treat them badly and so they get treated badly in return. All you need to do is show them some kindness.”
“Like people.” Regulus nods. “Honestly, they wonder why Slytherins treat most with disdain when we’ve been looked at with nothing but since the moment we were sorted.” He takes a sip of his tea, now that it has cooled down quite a bit as Hagrid surveys him with a curious glint in his eyes before nodding in agreement.
“Anyways. I talked to Myrtle about it. She said there were yellow glowing eyes, hissing and then a green flash. One of my... friends,” He supposes Remus Lupin is a friend to him, “said that it sounded like a basilisk. And Myrtle wears glasses, so she was only petrified by its gaze. The green flash would have been the killing curse. She said that Tom Riddle could speak parseltongue.”
“Riddle was a parselmouth, yes.” Hagrid nodded. “He wouldn’t shut up gloating about how he was descended from Slytherin himself.”
“Meaning that since a basilisk is a serpent, he would have been able to communicate with it. He also said that he witnessed Myrtle’s last moments-”
“Hold on, wait a minute. He said? As in Riddle? You’ve been talking to Riddle? How?”
Regulus hesitates before bringing out the diary. He lays it on the table in front of him. “Riddle has been communicating with me through this. I don’t know how, but he has.”
Hagrid studies the diary intently from where he’s sitting. “This is very powerful magic, dark too.”
“Yeah, I figured that.”
“You best get rid of it. It’s not safe.”
Rationally he knew Hagrid was right but a voice that wasn’t his screamed at him in the back of his brain. No, hold onto it, it’s special.
“I will get rid of it when I know everything I need to know.”
“And what do you need to know?” Hagrid asks looking at him directly.
Regulus shifts under the intense stare. “I don’t know.” He admits in a whisper. “Everything. Something- something isn’t right here, and I need to find out why.”
“You could always go to Dumbledore?” He suggests. Regulus scowls.
“We both know that doing so won’t do shit. He knows that you were innocent, yet he still expelled you. He gave you a trial, didn’t he? Vouched on your behalf to the Wizengamot. Yet still didn’t give you your education back.”
“He gave me this job and this house. That’s enough for me, kid. I don’t care much about my education, fat load of use it would’ve been. Nobody else woulda hired me. I’ve learned to be grateful for what I have.”
“Dumbledore isn’t the great wizard that everyone makes him out to be.” Regulus states.
“No.” Hagrid agrees. “But he’s powerful. His actions are sin, but his intention is saint.”
“If his intention was truly saint his actions would mirror it. He manipulates everyone. He turns students to soldiers; the minute they step foot past their graduation. Some of the older students have already been recruited to join his Order the minute they leave this place. He may be against blood supremacy but that does not make him a good person. He wants power and he knows how to get it because everyone sees the war as black and white. Good and bad. Dark and light. And the people who don’t wish to join Voldemort, the people who have a choice think that there is no other alternative. I went to him one year, ages ago. I was around twelve, eleven even. My family is abusive. I went to him thinking he could help get me and my brother out of there in a way that wouldn’t result in my death. You know what he said to me? He said that he could get my brother out, but it would be better for me to stay as eyes on the inside. He proposed to me to be a spy when I wasn’t even a teenager. What kind of good person does that? He’s not as bad as Voldemort but he has the opportunity to be worse.” Regulus’ voice was like stone. Cold, hard and unwavering.
It is hard to see Hagrid’s features past the beard and bushy hair, but Regulus thinks a look of shock flits across his face. He clears his throat. “We’re getting off track. This is about Riddle, not Dumbledore or Voldemort.”
Hagrid blinks, nodding. “Right. Well, go on then.”
“1943. What did that year look like?”
“The attacks started in October 1942. Hallowe’en. Students and teachers were petrified. Every rooster nearby was killed, and nobody was allowed to wander the castle alone. I got Aragog around Yule. He was just a baby. He had a habit of running off and so I was trying to hide him away from the other students. They would have killed him if he was found. Riddle found me trying to hide him one evening. Early January. Aragog started creating a fuss as soon as he was near. Two weeks later the news of Myrtle’s death was spread around the castle. They said it was the same monster as before. Riddle came to me again. Accused me of killing her, using Aragog to attack everyone. I begged him not to tell the headmaster because it wasn’t true. I wouldn’t let them take Aragog from me. No matter my attempts to convince Riddle otherwise, he went to the teachers. I let Aragog go, into the forest, he still lives there. All grown up now. He has his own family and all. And then I was expelled.”
Regulus let the information sink in. He had heard the story from three different people now and his brain had begun to hurt. “Thank you, Hagrid. Really. I should go though. It’s getting late. I might be back soon to find out more and I’ll keep you updated on anything else I find.”
“Good luck, kid.” Hagrid took his cup and pushed the diary towards him. “Get rid of this soon. It’s dangerous. I can feel it in my bones.”
“I will.” Lie.
Regulus slides off the stool and onto the ground, stuffing the diary into his pocket once again before exiting the hut. He quickly turns back into the cat and sprints up to the castle, feeling the wind caress his face as he runs against it.
James is already there when he enters the Astronomy Tower. He quickly changes back before he’s spotted as the cat. He steps up beside him, taking his cigarette as a form of greeting.
“I never thought you would be one to smoke.” He says before taking a drag. James shrugs as Regulus hands it back to him.
“No Quidditch this year. Besides it’s a good stress reliever.”
“And a terrible habit. It could turn into addiction if you’re not careful.” He thinks of Emmeline and Barty. He wonders how the latter is getting on after deciding to stop his addictions.
James shrugs again and says nothing.
“Have you talked to my brother yet?” Regulus asks.
“Nope.” James sighs. “Part of me doesn’t want to. I was the one who was wronged so why should I have to apologize. I don’t particularly want to until I get one of my own.”
“One, we both know how stubborn my brother is and the chances of that are highly unlikely, borderline impossible. Two, who said you have to apologize? You said that you would talk to him, I said that it probably wouldn’t go the way you wanted. I never said you had to be the one to apologize because you have nothing to apologize for.”
“I lashed out at him though. I hurt him by doing so.”
“If he hadn’t been doing what he was doing then you wouldn't have lashed out at him. Your side was a reaction, his were his own actions. You only responded to that the same way he snapped at you.”
James sighs. “I don’t know what to do, Reg. I feel like everyone is expecting so much from me. Sirius and Remus won’t talk to each other. Peter is content with just reading and drawing on his own, he doesn't particularly care. Our group has fallen apart and it’s on me to put it back together. Everyone expects so much from me. And I can’t refuse. I need to help people.”
“You are a child. Not a therapist. Not a teacher. Not a parent. A child.” Regulus says. “Anyone who thinks otherwise is just too blinded by their own flaws that they grasp onto whatever help they can find regardless of whether if that help is from a professional or another child.”
“I have panic attacks sometimes. I hate them. I don’t tell people because they all have it so much worse than me. Sirius, Remus, Marlene, Mary, Lily, even Peter-”
“The amount of struggles doesn’t matter, because it’s still a struggle. One person could be twenty meters underwater, and another person could be five meters under, yet they both drown the same.” Regulus hesitates but decides to make a bold move and settles his hand atop James’. The boy in question looks down but doesn’t say anything or go to move his hand away.
“Your problems are completely valid, James. It’s about you, not anyone else. They affect you the same way Remus's lycanthropy affects him, no, shut up, I’m speaking." He orders when James opens his mouth to argue. "You may not be in physical pain, but it still affects you . The same way being transgender affects me. The same way my anxiety and insomnia affect me. The same way it’s been months since I was raped but it still affects me. Do those things make my pain invalid? No. You don’t have to be in physical pain for your problems to count.” Regulus doesn’t realize what he has said until he finishes his sentence and sees James looking at him with his eyes drowning in horror and shock.
Regulus’ body goes cold with regret. His eyes fill with tears as he rips his hand from James’. He has to bite down on his lip harshly, almost drawing blood to stop it from quivering. Merlin, he's pathetic. Empty thoughts. Empty mind. Empty heart.
Empty thoughts. Empty mind. Empty heart.
Empty thoughts. Empty mind...
Empty thoughts...
Empty...
Empty-
Empty.
“Reg.” James whispers. Regulus shakes his head.
“Think about what I said. You’re allowed to have your own problems. You are allowed to be human.” His voice is devoid of any emotion as he walks out the door quickly, nearly running down the steps.
“Regulus!” James calls after him but he doesn’t turn around. He can’t bear to see the same look of horror directed at him. James probably thinks he’s fucked up. Disgusting. Tainted.
Regulus’ brain goes hazy, and he doesn’t even try to resist the power pulling him under, away from reality. The world and noise blurs around him but he keeps walking. He doesn’t know where, when, how long, but it doesn’t matter. He’s away from reality and it’s a blessing at that moment.