If He Wasn't In Such A Shitty Mood, The Way That James' Expression Flickered And Changed As Regulus Sent

The Leaky Cauldron was full of patrons making a pit stop while they do their Christmas shopping, and Fenrir had elbowed his way up to the bar. If he'd had any sense at all, he'd have just gone straight to the Wyvern - but as much as he liked his job, he wasn't desperate to spend his free time there. Fen had been speaking to the bartender when a lilting female voice broke through their conversation. "I was just describing this whiskey...deep amber, but smokey and rich. Nobody's ever quite described me as poetic before."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★ OPEN STARTER !

Head cocked to the side as she looked at the person opposite her through curious eyes. "Wait, say the last thing you said again." She'd only been half-listening, in truth, but something had caught her attention. She grabbed a spare napkin and the self-inking quill she always kept on her, and scribbled down some words, before looking back up. "It sounded really poetic."

All these years later, Regulus still harboured a deep rooted bitterness towards James Potter. It was a spot of darkness that had lodged itself deep in Regulus' soul, and he wasn't sure there was anything that James could ever do to make up for the deep feelings of betrayal that still needled at him after so much time. Rather than let on his feelings of hurt, he chose to school his expression into a cruel sneer. "Yes, I'd rather you go and speak to the staff...after all, I might be buying everything on this shelf. You don't know. They may have more stock in the back, and then you can be out of my way...out of sight, out of mind," Regulus said, growing more flustered as James appeared to not be moving. "How can I forget you're here when you're still talking? I would love nothing more than to forget about you, and yet here we are. I'm just looking for potions ingredients, nothing more."

He wasn't entirely sure what reaction he had been expecting. Maybe it was indeed this. Still, it hurt. If there was one person who had the power to make James Potter go from feeling like he was on top of the world to under it, it was Regulus Black, steely and cold to the point where James felt his sharpness bury itself deep in his chest. He couldn't even be angry. He probably deserved it. "You... want me to ask them to help me find something which I can already see on that shelf?" James repeated slowly. "Honestly, don't worry – take your time. I'm not in any rush. I'll get whatever I need to get after," he said gently, leaning against the wall behind him. "Forget I'm here. Unless you need a hand, of course," James added, standing back up. "In that case, I'm definitely here. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

Fenrir headed straight into the kitchen, grabbing the nearest plate of kitchen leftovers which he shovelled down. It was a mix of several dishes, but he'd been starving all day and food was food. Once he'd finished up, he tossed the plate into the sink, lazily casting a cleaning charm over it as he dug out his backpack of clothes. Shoving his dirty chefs whites into there once he'd changed, Fenrir would either head back later on to retrieve it or it would just remain here overnight depending on where the evening took them.

Nodding briskly at Thorfinn, Fenrir cast a quick goodbye over his shoulder to the owner. "Ready to go. Don't think I've ever eaten a pie so fast in my life," Fen said with a grin, prepared for the fun ahead of them. "See you there," he said, before twisting on the spot to apparate away.

Thorfinn took the shot that was being offered, downing it with his counterpart before he left. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed the room, at least this was a crowd of people he could be around, the odd one sticking out like a sore thumb. The wizard was curious where the night might lead him, but he was more than willing to get his hands dirty - it had been far too long since they last were.

Twenty minutes passed and he turned his attention to the door Fenrir went into, sliding off his stool when the male walked out, hands smoothing over his suit, robes waiting for them when it was time. "You ready to go?"

Caradoc’s response was to be expected, and he slowly drew his sleeve back down to cover the mark as he continued to stare. Regardless of his shifting allegiances, that mark would blemish his skin forever. He would always feel the burning call when the Dark Lord summoned his followers, and he would always be stained by the choices that he made as a foolish child. What had once been a sign of pride was now a source of shame, but all he could do was try to make better choices from here on in.

“Hey, hey, c’mere,” Regulus wrapped an arm around Caradoc’s shoulder, pulling him closer to try and comfort him. “I want to do good. I want to be better. I’ve spoken to Edgar Bones and I have started feeding him information about some plans I was aware of, and some people that have been imperiused. He’s putting protection in place for me, I’m assuming via the Order…but I’m scared that if it all comes out that the Death Eaters will kill me. But that fear…it’s not enough to keep me there. I was never a very good Death Eater. I’ve been having lessons with someone to teach me to be better at the unforgivables, and just last week I completely froze up in a battle because I was having a panic attack. It can’t carry on like this, and so…I need out. This is it, y’know. This is the turning point of my life, and there’s no going back from here.”

Pressing a kiss to the crown of Caradoc’s head as he tried to play off the emotions, Regulus continued. “I’m not sure that I can put a finger on exactly what started to change my mind. I think it’s a whole mix of things – my discomfort with the torture that’s going on, my own fears and anxieties, the pressure just becoming too much from my family, and this relationship. All of this has added up to me breaking in Edgar’s office and…here we are. It’s so new, it’s terrifying. I’m frightened for my life, and I’m frightened for what comes next. But I know it’s the right thing to do. I don’t want to be a Death Eater any more. I’m not entirely sure I want to be in the Order either, but I will do what I must to help stop the Dark Lord.”

Caradoc involuntarily tensed up when he laid eyes on Regulus’s arm. The Dark Mark. He took in a sharp breath — this was a tough pill to swallow. So many things were running through his head. Regulus had met the Dark Lord? Caradoc got nervous even saying the evil man’s name. If the Order found out that he and Regulus were together, if Death Eaters found out . . . It made his stomach twist up in a knot.

But — it was a good sign that Regulus had shown Caradoc this. It meant that Regulus, as far as he could tell, wanted out. He was taking a huge risk here. “Okay,” Caradoc said quietly. He realized he was staring at the mark and averted his eyes, not wanting to make Regulus uncomfortable. “You want to do good. That’s - that’s good-” he felt a bit lame saying that. “-if you want to defect from them, the Order can protect you. I can protect you.” Caradoc felt tears come to his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He turned his head to the side, still not used to being comfortable with crying in front of others. If his father saw this, he wouldn’t be pleased. Caradoc slumped further against the cushions, a wave of drowsiness hitting him. “This is, um, a side effect of the healing potion I took. Makes people tired and emotional, you know?” He said. It was clearly not true - well, not the emotional part - and a poor excuse for his worries.

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET AS PAUL ATREIDES Dune: Part Two dir. Denis Villeneuve

After a long day at work, Regulus had wanted nothing more than to retreat home and head straight to bed. As it was, he had a mission to undertake that evening and it was hardly worth going home at all. He'd showered and changed into fresh robes in one of the department bathrooms (plumbed in after several complaints from Unspeakables who had ended up covered in various magical substances whilst undertaking research), and apparated straight to the White Wyvern to eat some pub grub and await nightfall.

Entirely consumed by the pie in front of him, Regulus had hardly noticed that someone had taken up residence at the table beside him. Only when he glanced up did he recognise his new cousin-in-law, and he offered Lucius a curt nod. "I'm as entitled to be here as you are, Lucius. Just keeping myself to myself, I don't want any trouble."

where: white wyvern who: open

Lucius hated being back from his honeymoon. Being away from London and those that occupied it, it allowed the two of them to live in a world that was merely theirs. He did miss his peacocks, the only real thing that was the deciding factor to be home. That also meant back out doing the Dark Lord's work and after the day he had, a drink was required.

With a drink in hand, and table that allowed him to watch who walked through, a smirk turned on his lips at the next patron. "Should you be here?" His tone that of one who sounded bored, twisting his head to observe the person in question walk by.

As his victim hit the ground, a vicious smirk carved itself onto Fenrir's face. While he wanted to relish in the screaming of his victims there would be time for that later once they had extracted their mark. His gaze followed Thorfinn as he crept through the house, and he cast a swift cushioning charm on the ground to prevent too much noise alerting those upstairs. The last thing they needed was their mark apparating away.

Comfortable that the ground floor was now clear, Fenrir began creeping up the stairs. One guard stood in front of a closed door, and there was a brief moment of surprise on his face before another diffindo sliced the man's head cleanly from his shoulders. Casting a glance into two empty rooms, Fenrir gestured towards the last door which was firmly closed. His alohamora bounced off the door, and he turned to see if Thorfinn was following behind him. "The others are all in there. Four against two. We're going to have to blast through the wards."

Thorfinn stood patiently, counting down the seconds in his head before he apparated in with Fenrir. He could feel his fingers itching to get dirty and to cause some pain. This was what he longed for, what he craved, and an outlet he welcomed. The blonde followed behind the other, mask over his face, a smirk underneath at the destruction already in place.

He moved through the cabin, coming around the corner to where another law enforcement appeared. A disarming charm used, following his fellow death eater's way, a silence charm placed to hide the noise and with no warning, the unforgiveable death curse uttered, watching his assailant collapse to the ground. Two down, meant there were four more inside.

Edgar remaining seated was an indication that all of the power lay with him at the moment, while Regulus stood before him like a naughty child. Still, he would not sit - it was far too casual while he was being questioned on such matters. He stared down at Edgar, his jaw set firmly as he considered the man's words. Clearly, they did believe they had enough evidence to link the heirloom and it's recent use to Regulus, otherwise he wouldn't be called back.

But if that were the case, why was he here instead of simply being arrested and carted off to Azkaban?

"Mr Bones, I appreciate that you yourself have not been raised with strict, ancient family values. I know what is required of me, and that has shaped who I am. My words, and what is required by my parents, are one and the same. There used to be two boys to share the burden between our demanding parents, now there is only one...I manage as I must," Regulus said, his tone sharp. Those who had been raised outside of a Sacred Twenty-Eight upbringing could never hope to understand the demands and pressures that their parents put on them. "I'm not sure what my conscience has to do with this, Mr Bones," he said, though his eyebrows furrowed as Edgar mentioned his internal conflict that had grown so loud he could almost hear it roaring in his ears.

Staring silently at the photo of himself and Sirius, Regulus shook his head. "Sirius made his choice. He chose his friends, and he left me behind...he left me. He knew what our parents would do to me, and he left me anyway. He left me to rot," he said bitterly, though he reached for the photograph anyway. "Your idea of family, and my own idea of family, they differ. I have nobody, Mr Bones. I am alone in this world - and if I wanted to run to Sirius, I couldn't. I don't know where my own brother lives."

Frowning once again at Edgar's offer, Regulus paused. He'd been gearing up to leave, but the offer seemed genuine. There was another beat of silence, before Regulus finally took a seat. In a very quiet voice, he asked "what protection could you offer me against the Dark Lord? People do not simply leave the service of the Dark Lord. They serve, or they die. How can you guarantee protection, and safety?"

"And what would you ask in return? I take it this offer is not from the kindness of your heart."

"Stand if you must." Edgar did not care too much for what the boy did, there were more pressing matters at hand and he knew this situation had to be dealt with in a certain manner to work in their favour. He remained seated in his chair, hands clasped together in front of him.

Being meant with resistant was expected and he could appreciate how hard it appeared family ties were instilled in the boy, but that also would also aid his words. No matter how dire Regulus wished to keep his composure, there was always a truth written within the eyes.

"Were those your words, or words required of you?" A beat. "At times it can feel hard to free oneself of shackles so tightly encompassed around us. The weight of our conscience a constant struggle on what is right or wrong." Edgar leans back in his chair. "I see the conflict in your eyes Regulus." He was throwing all his cards out on the desk.

"Family doesn't force you to believe in what they want you to. A real family, they accept you for who you are." He pulled out a picture from underneath the one, a smaller one, of two boys together, one he had brought to him. "You have a brother who would accept you for who you are."

Edgar went to stand up, hands resting on top of the desk. "If you have nothing more to share, then I will not hold you." A pause. "But what I can offer you, if you decide to do the right thing, is protection outside of these walls, not within the ministry." Half of the people he didn't trust. "And I have a feeling you know what I mean."

Reg's shoulders tensed at Alecto's expression, almost curling in on himself to prepare for the agony that he felt was incoming. It wouldn't be the first time someone he liked and trusted had used the cruciatus on him, nor would it be the last. The pain didn't come though, and slowly the tension left his muscles. Nodding at her word of caution, Reg shot her a small grin - one of fondness, not of teasing. "Lesson learned. Don't poke the bear."

"I think if you were to turn me into some sort of other creature that might please my parents more than the person I am currently," he muttered, bitterness seeping into his tone. "I wouldn't mind tea if the elves can prepare a pot."

Her eyes narrow at him when he starts to mimic knitting, tempted to send a wave of pain throughout his body in warning, letting the thought fade when he lifted his hands up in surrender. He was family in a sense and wished to keep the little of the Black's that were left, close. "I am going to let you speak, be wise what you say." Her hand waves to remove the spell.

"I am not in the mood for trying my patience. Let's have a visit that won't have you turned into a vile creature." That was pregnant Alecto being nice. "Did you wish for something to drink?"

When the details for his meeting with his second protector had arrived, Regulus had committed the co-ordinates to memory before he had burned the parchment away. There was no use taking risks and leaving behind a paper trail of his betrayal - it would only come back to haunt him. He wasn't sure exactly who Edgar had arranged as a protector in addition to James, but he was hoping that this meeting wasn't going to haunt him the way his one with James Potter had done.

He was growing more comfortable with the deception that was laying under his skin, the lies he was telling to his family and to his friends about his involvement in the Death Eaters. He would maintain the facade for as long as possible, hoping to deal as much damage as he could before he was cut off or killed. Still, there was much to be concerned about while he was still actively working for the Death Eaters whilst also providing information to the Order and that was what his assigned protection was here to assist with...or so he thought.

Apparating to the co-ordinates he had memorised, Regulus took a moment to take in the howling winds and the crashing waves against a gloomy sky. It was the sort of place that he could lose himself, if he was allowed to do so. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his spine and headed towards the seemingly abandoned shack. Raising his hand, he knocked once as a courtesy before pushing the door open anyways. "Hello?" he called out, his voice strong. "This is quite the place."

who: @battle-scvrs when: sometime ago where: an abandoned hut on a beach in Scottland

Waves could be heard crashing onto the shore like wild roaring beasts, with anger so deep and yet a yearning for something new. One glance out of the dusty window and the sight of the waves would immediately come into view. It was through walks that Hestia had found that location. Whenever solitude had been required to think more clearly the witch had found her feet carrying her away from her cottage and down to the beaches just near by, until mile after mile had past only to apparate back home. It was during those walks that she noticed the abandoned shacks and cottages. Had the waves been too high? Hestia doubted that she’d ever find an answer to that.

The hut seemed almost perfect, had become even more so after the auror had placed the spells on it. Layers upon layers now sheltered the rundown cottage from the outside world. From a mirage that caused the building to appear abandoned, even more so, no matter who was inside to shielding charms and veils that allowed none but those permitted to pass through. Anyone out there would have simply been forced to move past.

Hestia was waiting on Regulus, had arrived early enough just to make sure. It was a meeting she had requested after talking over the details with Edgar. Now, seeing the younger Black heir moving down a path like that was not something she could have seen in the cards, but the world had proven to be odder and more surprising than anything.

She twirled the wand in her hand, ready and waiting for the steps that eventually she’d be able to hear. Whatever was within her power, the witch was going to do. If this was the clue, the one thing to stopping it all, it was worth the risk. Hestia was willing to give as much as it would take.

And then, finally, she could hear some steps.