Chapter Text
Halloween had never been a feast day Regulus Black was particularly interested in. Usually he'd prefer to skip the festivities altogether. It certainly wasn't one of the worst days in the year by any means. In fact, over his years in high school, his friends had made it somewhat a pleasant celebration, even though he felt the tradition was a little unnecessary. A day for children to prance about in ridiculous outfits and beg for food from strangers. One of the many reasons why Regulus had moved to an area so incredibly devoid of family life. He hated children. And honest to God did not understand the ridiculous fanciful traditions that most were just expected to join in with for the sake of a few snotty, snivelling kids.
Again, as ridiculous and unnecessary as the holiday was, it wasn't his least favourite day. He couldn't have known, on that halloween night in the early 2000's, that it would become the worst day of his entire life. Worse than the day his brother had ran away from home and left him behind. Worse than the day he'd become hated by the love of his life. Worse than the day he'd realised everything he'd come to believe about the gang he had been sequestered into, was a complete, fanciful lie. Worse than the day he realised there was only one way to escape their cult-like claws, and that the entire thing was a suicide mission.
That Halloween morning had started out as any other October morning. Regulus arose by the light of the dawn and exercised until his muscles were screaming at him to get back into bed and give them a rest. He had brushed his teeth and showered. He'd made his breakfast and frowned at the local news. He had handled a few business calls, and put his above-average acting skills to good use. Then he had settled in for a long day of research. As per usual.
Regulus had been only 16 years of age when he realised everything he held close to his heart was at risk of total decimation. He'd known at that point that there was only one thing he could do to prevent the loss of lives more precious to him than his own, and he'd taken it, knowing the fallout would ruin everything. It hadn't been overly difficult at first. He had loose morals, and as much as it turned his stomach when he'd been inundated into a gang who tortured innocent, impoverished people for fun, it hadn't been enough to turn him away. Not quite awful enough to make him rethink his entire life's purpose. No. He wasn't strong enough to have his faith ripped away like that, and come back unscathed. That hadn't been the reason for Regulus' twisting of trust.
Regulus had a butler. A childhood friend who had served his family for his entire infancy, and adolescent years. Kreacher. A humble, slight man with a short frame and a warm heart. He'd secretly helped both Regulus and his brother throughout their abusive childhood, and had risked punishment and death by disobeying his mother in order to keep the pair alive. Regulus had never felt such gratitude and compassion for another being than he did Kreacher. Though the man was poor, and incapacitated, Regulus had viewed him with the same respect he viewed any other being on the planet, and he couldn't quite understand why anyone would see any different. It wasn't Kreacher's fault he'd been born the way he was. And it wasn't any of Regulus' doing for him to be born rich, with abusive parents. That was simply how it was. They were both living, breathing animals at the end of the day. Why should they have been forced into such different ways of life.
When Regulus was 18, only a few days after his birthday, notorious gang leader, Master Riddle, had requested the service of Regulus' butler. Regulus had been suspicious, and had harboured reservations, but had allowed the Butler to take part in a cause that Regulus knew was worthless, and shallow. If the questionable ways of the gang wasn't reason enough for Regulus to derail the plan he'd held for two years of his life, then the treatment of his beloved butler had been just that. When Kreacher had returned that day, close to death, everything Regulus had been working towards had been crushed mercilessly beneath the heel of his boot.
Regulus had come up with a new plan. A far better, and far more dangerous one. But it was a plan, and he would see it through. Even if it meant his own death would arrive when it was over. Regulus would go. He would go willingly and know the people he cared for could live happily without threat looming over their heads.
Now, two years later, Regulus still worked tirelessly towards that end goal. He hadn't stopped yet, and he wouldn't for anything. He wouldn't cease until Riddle was six feet below the ground, and the world could breathe again.
What he hadn't known, that fateful day, that crisp, unassuming Halloween in the early 2000's, just as the sun had begun to set, was that one phone call, one single, short phone call, would change his entire life.