Battle-scvrs - For The Hope Of It All

Regulus glanced back at Frank's basket again before plucking some ginger from the shelf and dropping it into the other man's basket. "I hear ginger's quite helpful for warding off sickness. Make her some teas or something," he offered, recalling from an advanced potions book he'd read a few years back. "Nothing like a screaming mandrake to ward off potential burglars," he said with a small smile, before the smile quickly vanished. "I think it might be too late to stop the passage of time...maybe I can study it though, at the ministry. See what I can do."

"It's gotta be a fake moustache...gotta commit, y'know. It can't be Regulus Black's shitty moustache. Maybe I should use a hair growth potion."

"Thanks," Frank said, sorting the ingredients to make sure he'd have enough for the few other things he had to pick up. "Now I'm definitely picking you up some other ingredients when I come back. I might plant a few for our apartment, they're good for security as well. Then I won't have to buy as many. Tell time to give you a break, you're too young for it to do so much damage."

He laughed before he could help himself, smothering his smile when the shopkeeper gave them both a confused look. "Well future Albert, it will be a pleasure to meet your mustachioed future self."

Regulus had shown Caradoc more of his true self than he'd shown to anyone else in years - maybe even since Sirius left. He'd been able to show Caradoc his love of the muggle way of cooking, and hadn't had to pretend that the food he was serving had been made by a house elf. He'd shown Caradoc some of the gentleness that he thought had been left behind in the halls of Hogwarts along with the ghosts, and it had softened him. Caradoc had managed to break down his cold exterior, and with the slow removal of the bricks that Regulus had built around himself, the more uncomfortable he'd grown with his position in the war.

Leaning comfortably into his embrace, Reg smacked a kiss against Caradoc's cheek. "I'm sorry it's been so long...it's been kind of a wild time since I last saw you. I guess I've got a lot to say, and I definitely couldn't say it in a letter," he said, his voice taking on a tinge of nervousness. He wasn't entirely sure how Caradoc was going to take his news, but he wanted to be open and honest. "How nasty, my dear? I could never do your job...I seem to be better at setting curses off than breaking them," Reg said, thinking back to a recent mission where he accidentally tripped a curse because he was distracted.

As they settled onto the couch, Reg flicked his wand towards a pot of cinnamon tea that he'd made earlier and warmed it before charming it to pour two cups. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, and the world outside seemed to fade away as it always did when he was with Caradoc. "I won't keep you wondering too much longer. I've got a lot to tell you."

Caradoc immediately relaxed as Regulus’s arms wrapped around his waist, closing his eyes for a second. He always felt safer here, even more safe than his own home, because of the protective wards Regulus had. Plus, he knew that if this was bad news, Regulus wouldn’t have embraced him so warmly. It reminded Caradoc of how special this was, that he got to experience and see the soft side of his . . . Boyfriend? He wasn’t really sure what the label was, but it didn’t matter. They were together and they both knew it, that was enough.

He accepted the kiss with a smile, wrapping his arms around Regulus’s neck. “Hi. I missed you too. Receiving your owl was definitely a nice surprise. I didn’t want to risk my letter being compromised if I replied, so I came here as soon as possible. Just returned from a job this morning, had to deal with a nasty curse,” he replied, rambling on a bit. He was trying not to let it show how eager he was to hear this news. Caradoc had tried to speculate on what it might be, but couldn’t decide on a good guess.

Figuring that they should settle in, Caradoc took Regulus’s hand and wandered over to the couch, sitting down on it. He had dressed comfortably, with a snug jumper and jeans on.

There was something to be said about a mental block affecting magic, and Regulus privately wondered how much research had been done on this topic. He had performed unforgivable curses before, and yet the more confused he got about his place in the world, the harder the curses were to cast. He had always been the spare, but he felt that Sirius would've been better at all of this than he was - if only his older brother wasn't a coward who had chosen to leave him behind. It frustrated him that his personal turmoil was having such an effect on his magic, but the deepening frustration was akin to a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Regulus had been both the attacker and the victim when it came to the imperio curse, and the peace on Rabastan's face was a feeling that he knew all too well. An all-encompassing peace where he felt like nothing could go wrong. His parents were fast and loose with the use of unforgivables in the home, and Regulus had found himself at the end of his father's wand on more than one occasion. Watching his mentor pirouetting made Regulus snort in amusement, and he knew he'd made the right choice in action. "I think you'd make a wonderful ballerina...we should get you some shoes, and a little tutu," he chuckled, his eyes full of mirth.

Whilst still laughing, Regulus subtly twisted the wand at his side and cast "imperio" once again, hardly giving Rabastan a moment to recover. This time he put all of his effort into willing Rabastan to surrender his wand to Regulus.

Rabastan thought nothing of Regulus's inability. The younger wizard was capable and keen. He had no doubt that he would master his challenges soon enough, and he understood that personal circumstances could affect one's efficiency. He did not approve of permitting emotions to cloud efforts, but not everyone could discard them as stoically as himself.

The spell washed over him. Sweet ecstasy pervaded his mind with the type of addictive peace that could be oh-so tempting to indulge. This curse brought no pain, but its potency should not be underestimated. There were worse things than agony. The Imperius was like a siren's call, summoning its victim to their untimely demise with nothing but exquisite calm. It felt almost like a warmth and he did not resist, having no desire to throw the spell aside. He had wanted to see what Regulus could do, so his mind was open and his heart felt freely.

Executing the pirouettes with a skill he definitely did not normally possess, he suddenly snorted, disturbing the spell by thinking of how ridiculous he must have appeared. It broke the curse, and for a moment he wobbled one one leg, losing all of his non-existing balletic expertise while loudly laughing.

"I'm sorry, Regulus," he wheezed, straightening up and staring at the other wizard. "That was very good, but I suddenly realised how stupid I must look."

"Perhaps it is you that lacks manners, Carrow. You come into my home making demands of my time, and to use my fireplace...not once have I heard a please. Oh, I wouldn't concern yourself too much with my pack. The Dark Lord seems pleased with us...or are you questioning our leaders judgment?" he asked, daring her to challenge the Dark Lord himself.

Though Alecto had tried to bite back her disdain at his casual show, Fenrir knew it had irked her and he smirked. "You couldn't pay me any amount of money in the world to get involved in all of your pureblood society bullshit. I am perfectly happy where I am. If you touch this home where my son resides, you will regret it," he said, gaze hardening. "I take threats to this place very seriously. You will understand when your children arrive...do not test me again."

Fenrir continued lounging against his couch, though his brain was ticking away. "So what are you looking for exactly? Someone to depose Angus? Or are you looking for blackmail?"

"If a leader lacks manner's does that mean the rest of the pack does? This could be concerning." Alecto states in a mocking tone. The witch was certain if they did prove to be unruly that the Dark Lord would lose interest in them and perhaps they could all be put down.

Her body shifts in his direction, keeping from rolling her eyes at his unprofessionalism. "Is that jealousy I hear, Greyback?" A small pause. "I don't blame you, however, if you truly desire the caves, I'm sure we can have it arranged for you." A insidious smirk twisting on her features.

Now that had reached business and she sat up a little straighter. "We have an alliance with him, but something about him irks me." More so, how he continued to hit on her their last visit.

Regulus sometimes felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he wasn't sure what to do with that feeling. It wasn't as if there was anything he could put down to make it easier - he enjoyed his job, so he was hesitant to let go of his work. He could hardly step away from the cause that he had pledged his life to, and since Sirius had turned his back on their family, his parents had doubled down on ensuring that Regulus stayed on the right path. Their focus was stifling, and it had hardly lessened since Regulus moved out to live alone. All he could do was his best, and Regulus was terrified that his best wasn't good enough.

Enter Rabastan, a mentor Regulus had turned to when his eldest cousin's attention became too much. He was grateful, truly, and yet Regulus knew that he shouldn't need extra tuition to be able to cast an unforgivable. He was the male heir to the House of Black, and he couldn't cast an unforgivable without his stomach churning...it was pathetic, and he knew it. "Yes, the imperius curse...I've never managed to do it strongly before," he said, twirling his wand between his fingers. He nodded at the instruction, and he could almost hear his mother's high pitched voice shrieking that he had to mean it.

Summoning the anger and anxiety that was always simmering beneath the surface of his emotions, Regulus turned his wand towards Rabastan. "Imperio," Regulus cursed, willing Rabastan to do some ballet pirouettes.

Rabastan liked the youngest Black. It had been with an unusual generosity that he'd taken Regulus under his wing when he'd joined the Death Eaters. There was something akin to recognition in the act. He'd seen something in Regulus that resonated. Perhaps it was his position as the second son of a noble house, and the weighty expectation that came with that status. Rabastan did not think on it. He was merely willing to give Regulus his time.

He had of course set the enchantments already. But rather than extinguish the other wizard's enthusiasm, he permitted him to add his own spells to the mix, watching all the while and judging his choices. He approved. Regulus was cautious and thorough.

"You'll learn," he replied, stepping closer. A smile drifted his lips fleetingly, fading as quickly as the breeze that passed through the glade where they stood. There was no need for a mask, here. Nothing would get through the spells without him knowing about it in good time. "So, the Imperius Curse? Cast it on me first. Let me see what you can do." Then he slowly grinned, wickedly and full of mirth. "Just don't make me do anything too absurd."

Reg put the stopper back in the bottle of dittany, watching as Caradoc's skin started to knit itself back together and the wound looked several days old rather than fresh. With the most immediate issue dealt with, Reg cast a few cleansing charms over his boyfriend before casting a general diagnostic charm. With his magic indicating Caradoc's other wounds, Regulus was about to start healing again when Caradoc's words made him freeze.

From his position on the floor, Reg let his wand drop into his lap. He reached to take Caradoc's trembling hands, his gaze resting intently on the other man's face. "This is war, Caradoc. It's life or death, you had to do what you did to stay alive. He would have killed you without thought, and he wouldn't have gone home and felt a single scrap of guilt. I'm glad it was him and not you. And I'm glad you came straight here."

Biting down on his lip for a moment, Regulus was silent for a moment. "Did anyone see Edward die? Anyone that might identify you, that might retaliate?" Regulus might have started feeding the Order information, but to protect Caradoc he would fall back on his arsenal of dark magic and he would feel no guilt about it.

Caradoc inhaled sharply at the feeling of the sting from the essence, watching Regulus work on handling the wound. He had other wounds, yes, but he wasn’t really thinking about any of it. The pain was there, but it was nothing compared to what was haunting his mind. Something had happened tonight that would change his life forever. What if the Ministry found out?

“I killed Edward Avery,” he said, knowing that Regulus would recognize the name as a Death Eater. “I-I didn’t mean to . . . He was attacking us, he was going to kill us, I didn’t . . . Reg, I . . .”

He trembled, partly from the pain, partly out of despair. He had never dreamt that this would happen, even though he had been trained for it. Caradoc thought Regulus might hate him. “And everything fell down around us and I couldn’t move and I didn’t know what to do, Reggie.”

Fenrir had finally escaped the heat of the kitchen after final orders for food had been called and had headed to the bar to pour himself a drink to cool down. Festive crowds were relentless and he'd barely had a moment to himself all day, never mind time to eat or drink something. He'd been in the middle of downing a pint of water when Thorfinn entered and made his way over to Fenrir with purpose.

Fen took the parchment and read it, committing the contents to memory before he tapped his wand against it to set the parchment alight. "Twenty minutes for me to change and eat something," he said, reaching for a bottle of vodka. He poured two shot glasses, handing one across the bar to Thorfinn. "Cheers," he said, throwing the shot back before he disappeared into the back of the pub to prepare for the mission.

where: the white wyvern who: @battle-scvrs (Fenrir Greyback) when: 19th of december, 2024

It appeared that Thorfinn was not going to be able to enjoy the rest of the night, a parchment sent that he and Fenrir had a task to handle for the Dark Lord. He knew how much of a savage the other could be, and between the two, he was certain there would be a trial of blood in their wake.

The blonde sauntered into the shop, making his way up to the bar where he sat down with Fenrir on the other side. "How much longer do you have?" He held out the parchment for him to read discretely.

There had to come a breaking point in this war at some point, but it was difficult to ignore the assumption that many of the Death Eaters were unemployed pure-blooded socialites who didn't have to worry about keeping their activities to after-work hours. That wasn't to say that there weren't plenty of Death Eaters who were employed, in fact Kingsley had his suspicions about many of the ministry employees, but he doubted that so many of the other side were as exhausted as the Order were getting. "Many things can be said about my parents, but the manners that they raised me and Sade with were absolutely perfect," Kingsley acknowledged. "Oh, absolutely she does. More than anyone."

Kingsley curled his hand around the beer glass, letting the cold sink into his skin as he considered Edgar's words. "I just...can't risk losing her. What happens to Jasper if she's gone? What happens to me if she's gone?" he said, his voice strained. "I would never dream of controlling her, and if she decides this is what she wants then by Merlin I will put her through training more rigorous than auror training. But you know as well as I that it only takes one rogue spell and that's it...the vicious scar on my side is testament to that. I'm scared for her."

He could agree with Kingsley, the nights were getting longer, and one they had finished with the ministry, they were off do order business. Things had been tense, especially with what happened with Frank, that they had their guard up more. "We can respect your mom." He laughed, a shake of his head. Edgar wanted to admit that he could tell the bars were getting busier, but his mind had been on other witches, that it was hard to keep from this thoughts, and considering his grandfather's death. "She deserves it." Ros worked hard.

Edgar could understand the worry when it came to his friends sister wanting to be part of the order, especially with have a toddler at home to take care of. He did his best to make sure the witch was out of harms way, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before she pushed for more. The wizard took a sip of his beer. "That is why we have to make sure she's trained properly." He knew how his own sister put herself in harms way at times, but it wasn't like this, grateful that she never asked to be part of what he did. "You know you are both safe with us."

If he was honest, Regulus was surprised that Sirius had even agreed to meet. Their last encounter had been tense and trained at best, and downright awful at worst. Much like when he'd reached out to Andromeda, he wouldn't have blamed Sirius if he'd declined and left it at that. The fact that this had had to be arranged via an auror was appalling enough, but their relationship was what it was - there had been damage on both sides, and he wasn't sure there was anything left to repair. But Regulus would never forgive himself if his brother heard from someone else that Regulus had started co-operating with the Order, and regardless of Sirius' response to that, he wanted it to come from his own mouth.

He flicked his wand towards the door as Sirius knocked, and then magically closed it behind him before he quickly ensured the wards he'd set were still in place. He froze his pacing, studying his brother's face silently for a moment. Sirius didn't want to be here. All of his practiced words were suddenly evading him, and Regulus frowned back. "Did Edgar tell you anything about why you're here? Or...are you in the dark?"

Sirius was in a foul humour. He had had a shitty week and a shitty Christmas, making him wish quickly for the new year to come and wash the traces of it away. His bad mood wasn't helped by the meeting that had been in the back of his mind all day. When Edgar had talked to Sirius about meeting up with Regulus, Sirius had as good as laughed in his face. Whatever Regulus had to say Sirius had very little interest in, their relationship having been severed a long time ago. But despite the frown on his face all day, and telling himself it wasn't worth going, Sirius pulled his hood over his head as he left work and rushed through the rain to The Leaky Cauldron.

He kept his hood up as he made his way through the pub, hoping it would make it easier to get through without being noticed. He tugged it down as he reached the appropriate door, running his hand through his hair with a sigh before he knocked on the door. What did he have to lose? He stepped in as the door opened, closing it behind him with a frown on his face. He just nodded at his brother in greeting.

Regulus rarely escaped the ministry on his lunch break, instead choosing to eat lunch at his desk so he could return to his work quickly. However, today had been difficult and so Regulus had made an escape into the fresh air that Diagon Alley afforded. The bustling crowds down the street weren't enough to put Regulus off buying a sugar quill from the sweet shop, a childhood favourite that still satisfied his sweet tooth more than anything else. He was chewing slowly on the quill and meandering towards Flourish and Blotts, quite content to spend the rest of his lunch break amongst the towering shelves until he found something new to take home and read. Feeling quite at peace, Regulus found himself wondering why he didn't pop out more regularly...until his eyes unwittingly fell upon his cousin, and his niece. Stopping dead in his tracks, Regulus couldn't drag his eyes away from the small toddler clinging to Andromeda's side. He should turn and go, should make known his disgust, he should curse them for being blood traitors....and yet he did nothing. "Andromeda," he said almost involuntarily, his voice so small and quiet that she may not have heard it at all. @tonksxandromeda