When The Owl Landed On His Desk With A Letter From Rosmerta To Say That She Had Closed The Deal On The

There were some evenings that Regulus didn't mind company, and some where he wanted to simply people watch until the evening slipped away. He'd been planning on people watching until the time came for his mission, curiously surveying the White Wyvern to see if there was any information that could be gained. Even in these dark times, once people had a pint of beer their lips loosened and secrets were spoken louder than necessary. Watching Lucius move over to join him saw those plans slipping away, but he didn't mind it too much.

Family was everything, after all.

"I've cast a lot of complex spells today, it was quite draining. I could eat two of these I reckon...need to get my strength back up," Regulus shrugged, shovelling another forkful in his mouth. "How are you settling into married life? I saw Narcissa the other day...she seemed happy," he offered.

Lucius glanced over to the voice, one to a face he did not mind, at least a Black that was still on the right side, causing him to slip from his chair and join him at his table. Hues glance down at the pie on the table. "I did not say you were not." Company he could appreciate.

"Has it been a day that you feel inclined to eat an entire pie?" He leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his drink. Lucius wasn't one to judge, but he was judging. That was a lie, he was always one to judge.

Fenrir continued edging his way towards the cottage, keen eye assessing the number of patrolling agents he could see. Tapping his wand against his thigh, Fenrir narrowed his eyes slightly. "Homenum revelio," he cast towards the house, which the ministry had foolishly given patrols and yet no clear and obvious wards. "Ten people by my reckoning. Several outside, several inside. Whatever this man knows is highly valuable it appears," Fen said.

"You know me, I always want to take an extra few bodies. Is the Dark Lord wanting the mark above the house before we leave? Or is this supposed to be a secret?" he asked, glancing to Thorfinn's left arm briefly.

The blonde stood beside the other, knowing that there were many ways they could go about this, but at the end, little evidence that could be traced back, was what was required. "It does nothing, but some like to think it does." Thorfinn pulled out his wand, moving towards the pathway that led to the cottage.

"Have I? No." That was not what he did. There were others, lower ranking death eaters, who paid their dues, that provided all the information they needed. "The idea is to take the one inside to a secure location." The safehouse that he and Athena cased out. "From there we can do what we need." He paused looking over to Fenrir. "If you want to take a couple extra bodies. I do not care."

Kingsley had been out on investigation work when he'd received an urgent summons to a sleepy muggle village in the Yorkshire Dales that was now the site of a major crime scene. "The obliviators have been called," finished off the message, and with a sigh Kingsley abandoned the trail he'd been following and apparated to just outside of the village. The Dark Mark was high in the sky and must have been visible for miles, which led to a countless number of muggles who's memories needed wiping - never mind the victims of whatever Death Eater had decided to use unknowing muggles as their playthings.

Moving through the carnage, Kingsley joined in the bustling groups of ministry workers who were slowly lowering the floating muggles. He joined in the work of getting the muggles down, but whilst he did so he quickly and harmlessly used legilimency to see if the Death Eater at fault happened to be unmasked in any of their confused memories. It wasn't something he would do on a magical being, but if he interviewed any of these muggles all he would get back was confusion and nonsense. Sometimes, needs must.

Just as he raised his wand to return another muggle back to the ground, a shrill voice broke his concentration and Kingsley drew a sharp breath. "Lestrange...always a pleasure," he said, not shying away from her closeness. He would not be intimidated by this woman. "Oh, and they were so inappropriate...you can't blame me for continuing to hold those against you now, can you?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "As the auror in charge here, I must insist that if you are questioning any muggles that I am present...just to ensure good practice is being followed," he said, a firmness in his tone that confirmed he would not be swayed. "This is an active auror investigation, and certain processes must be followed especially where muggles are involved. I'm sure you understand, you're a reasonable woman."

Starter for: Kingsley Shacklebolt @battle-scvrs Where: a Muggle village, attended by Aurors and the Department of Magical Accidents & Catastrophes When: the middle of the day

As a Senior Minister, Bellatrix did not have to go out on active duties these days. But sometimes she inserted herself into the opportunity like a silver dagger slashing pretty pink flesh; wilfully and dishonourably.

So here she stood, the picture of elegance at a scene of terrible magical disarray. Muggles were floating around like inflated toys, caught in trees and windows and Merlin knew what else. Frankly, she couldn't care less. But her employer did care - and so did the Dark Lord. Aurors had been summoned, for her department had suspected foul play at the hands of Death Eaters.

The Dark Mark shining over the village post office did also slightly give the game away. That wasn't supposed to be there. Bellatrix now stood before it, a look of utter fury ripping her expression in two as she stared up at it and wondered which of her idiot allies had been so stupid to forget the most basic of commands. Eyes expanding in the sallow green haze, her hair whipped around her like streaming black ribbons, nails clenching into the palms of her hands. She was here to make this incident disappear from the Ministry's radar, but the Dark Mark made that work impossible.

Turning away, she headed forcefully towards the village square. She would rip the culprit's identify from one of these vile muggles' minds. That was the only thought in her head, until her sight fell upon Kingsley Shacklebolt and she smiled a smile of avaricious yearning.

"Hello Kingsley, my old friend." Stepping beside him, she stood too close for comfort and delicately brushed some non-existent dust from his cloak. Her eyes lingered on his midriff, where she knew he must harbour a sumptuous scar slashed by her own wand. Oh, how she'd love to see it.... Lips twitching with the involuntarily thirst for it, she pressed them into a curve and looked up into his expression. "You don't still hold a grudge against me, do you? For those inappropriate conversations at Hogwarts?" With a tsk, she stepped back and waved her fingers towards the Dark Mark. True anger filled her expression once more and she channelled the emotion into a new purpose. "Whoever is responsible for that must be caught and punished. You will have your perpetrator when I've finished questioning these muggles."

Whether the Wyvern was a dive bar or not, Fenrir took pride in his work. He wouldn't serve standard pub grub just because that was what was expected, like the shit that they served at the Leaky. He worked hard at the small menu they offered, and all of the kitchen staff knew how to make each dish. Being called out of the kitchen his natural assumption was that it was to be a question about the food, so when the blonde woman started talking about how to reach him, Fenrir straightened his spine and mentally prepared for whatever was coming next. "I don't mind. It's my job after all, to be available for questions. Thanks," he accepted the praise, tone full of curiosity as to whatever was happening here.

Fenrir reached for the proffered clothing, eyeing it with an analytical gaze. "Protection you say? What sort of protection does it offer?" he asked, his gaze darting to the tables either side to ensure they weren't being watched. "I assume you know my name, Leta, otherwise you wouldn't be here," he said, loathe to introduce himself unless absolutely necessary. He shook her hand firmly, before he turned his attention back to the clothing. "Do I owe you for this?"

Whether it would seem silly to the one in question or not, Leta felt a visit was long overdue. The White Wyvern was a place the witch could be found only rarely, when occasion would strike. It was convenient such a moment had come; the blonde had found her way there. In fact, for the first time she’d even tried the food there. Somehow the establishment had always given the impression of being a simple place, more for the drinking type than those wishing to dine. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you out here, but I’m not entirely sure how to reach you.” Of course, Leta could have sent an owl. That seemed too harsh, impersonal. “First of all, since it seems rude otherwise. The food was nice.”

Slender hands reached to take a quick sip of the wine in front of her. “That aside, I came to give you this. Whether you wish to use it is entirely up to you.” It was simple clothing. Not the usual cloaks she’d have handed other death eaters. Given that she wasn’t all that familiar with the one in front of her, it seemed like the most basic of things. “I have made these for all that have joined. Simple protection against the unwanted.” The former Slytherin could only hope it would make sense to the one in front of her. “Oh, Leta Rosier. I work at Madam Malkin’s. If I feel like it.” Wasn’t that the truth. Dedicated, yet growing more and more accustomed to just working in her own workshop. The blonde offered her hand. Least she could do. - @battle-scvrs

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.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips at the woman's sneered words. Whatever he'd done to piss her off, he'd clearly done it spectacularly. "You're welcome to try and make it difficult," he said, wondering how much this woman hated him and whether she would start a fight in the bar. At her warning, Fenrir finally understood. "Ah...little Lupin. He'd be so much better with his own kind, and one day he will come to know it. You should consider carefully who you are trying to threaten, or it may be you next," his voice was low as she brushed past him, and he began making his way back towards the kitchen.

There were plenty of things Aurora wanted, but she knew of the reputation that came with the white wyvern, and if they knew she was an order member, but this beast, he hurt the one she cared for. "That would be too easy for you." She sneered, standing up, catching sight of who she was here to meet. "Stay away from Remus." She warned him, brushing past him over to the witch, handing her the envelope in her hand.

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.”

"There's a small dash of mustard in there too, and some nutmeg," he said. He may work in a pub kitchen, he may be looked down upon within society, but he saw no reason to serve shit food. He kept his employers happy, and they continued to turn a blind eye to the days off that he requested each month like clockwork. "I find that the two work very well together. Just the right balance of each, and some finely sliced potatoes and...voila, or whatever the French say."

"Oh cheddar and parmesan together is a great idea. Usually people shy away from combining two stronger flavor profiles but I do find that they compliment each other well."

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.

If he wasn't in such a shitty mood, the way that James' expression flickered and changed as Regulus sent empty sparks his way might have sent guilt clanging through his chest. One day, James' seemingly endless patience for Regulus and his bullshit would run out - hell, maybe Regulus had just driven the final dagger into whatever was left of what they'd been. Letting his wand drop down to the table with a clatter, Regulus slumped back into the chair as if hit with a wave of physical exhaustion. "Sirius will know. He doesn't yet. We wanted to get the protection in place first. I have spoken to Andromeda about my recent thoughts, and some other...developments. But I couldn't...I was..." Reg stammered over his words, nose scrunching in discomfort. "I'm scared to tell him, I guess. Scared of what he might think," whenever he was in the presence of his brother, he felt like a small terrified kid year old all over again watching everything slip between his useless fingers. "Maybe, one day."

Regulus didn't want to hand blame to those who had left him, but in his brain, there was a clear correlation between his cousin and his brother leaving, and the intense pressure that suddenly came stamping down on his shoulders. There was never a chance for him to do anything else, there was only one option. Almost instinctively, Regulus' hand came up to itch the skin where his Dark Mark lay, nails digging in slightly as if he could rip it off. "All I've ever wanted to do was be a good son, a good brother, good enough. And somehow I've managed to be a terrible son, a terrible brother, a terrible Death Eater. I'm not good at any of it. But maybe I can be good enough that I don't get caught. Maybe...just maybe I can tip the scales a little bit. I've already given Edgar information on some planned raids, and some names of those within the muggle government under the imperius. I'll do what I can whilst I can. I'm not sure it will be enough, but it's better than nothing," he said, a small frown knitted between his brows. "I don't think the Order is doing enough, James. I'm giving the Order information because it's the best option we have, but I don't believe that your Order can make much of a difference. Not yet, anyway. I know that everyone seems to have boundless optimism in the power of good, but...I'm not sure it's enough. You don't know the sort of power you're fighting against, the depth of the ideologies...it's impossibly dark," he breathed, before his gaze shot up to meet James'. "That makes two of us. This war is eating at me, and I fear that even if I make it to the end, there will be nothing of me left. But you're right. If it means that the Dark Lord isn't in power at the end of it all, it's worth it...right?"

"I've never been enough, James. Everybody I've ever known has wanted me to be someone else, to be something else. Nobody has ever really wanted just plain old Regulus, with his ugly feelings and his messy fears, not until recently," Regulus' voice was small and weak, betraying all of his deepest feelings about himself. "It's been a slow process, I think. There isn't one specific thing that changed my mind. My heart was never in it, not the way that my family wanted it to be. I was doing it because it was the right thing, the thing to make my family proud. I'm not devoted, I'm not skilled at the Dark Arts. The first time I crucioed someone I went home and vomited until I passed out. The pressure from my family...it's suffocating me, and I was starting to panic in the field. It just wasn't feeling right any more, I couldn't in good conscience go out and fight that cause any more."

"And....I met someone. Someone that I really like that is on on your side, someone who's a muggle-born. And I started to realise that his blood status doesn't matter to me at all, and then I looked at myself and thought...what the fuck are you doing, Reg?"

His wand aimed directly at his forehead, James' hazel eyes, dilated in dim light and emotion, never left the grey of Regulus'. He won't do it. He wouldn't, he thought. A light flashed from the tip of the wood and, just for a moment, he considered the possibility he might have been wrong. What that would mean. His brows furrowed. In the split-second before he was obliviated, James' last thought was that he forgave him. Regulus could do just about anything and James would probably forgive him – without being prompted, without being asked, without even knowing if there was anything to really forgive. A moment later, he blinked, and here he still was. "Does Sirius know?" Lingering awkwardness from that surge of feeling cracked his voice as he spoke. "About this whole double-agent thing? I was told not to tell anyone, but I think he should know." James shrugged. "I'm glad he's getting a laugh out of it." He'd only ever heard good things about Uncle Alphard. "It probably is funny, I guess. I'm sure in ten years we'll laugh about it, too."

James listened quietly, guilt clawing at him from inside his gut as he chewed on his bottom lip. It's not your fault, he reminded himself. It's not your fault, it's not your fault, it's not your fault. But it was. Taking Sirius away from his family was effectively signing Regulus' prison sentence. Before the two had become close, he had never thought about Sirius running away like that, but after, it was all he could think about. "I don't really know what to say," James said honestly, at last. "It's such a shitty hand that you've been dealt. I'm not going to pretend like this doesn't change everything, because it does." He, however, was nothing if not optimistic. "But hopefully, it'll change everything for the better. That's all each of us is trying to do, right?" A far cry from the effortless confidence he exuded when asked by anyone else about the war, James felt he could be vulnerable around Regulus. He had no expectations of him, unlike everyone else, and so he didn't feel the need to play the part he normally did. "I've always had the feeling I wasn't going to make it out alive," he said suddenly. He had never said that out loud. "At least we'll die doing the right thing."

"You are enough. You're doing wonderfully. Give yourself some grace." He nodded, relief surging through him. "Okay." A question, however, had been eating him alive, from the inside out. It reared its ugly face now. "What made you ... y'know. Switch sides?" At the end of the day, although they liked to put it down to Sirius, it was their opposing ideologies that had driven them apart. The dark mark had been the final, physical nail in the coffin that they couldn't ignore – the step they both knew that, once Regulus took, James couldn't follow after.