I'm about to cry right now, because I have been procrastinating so I could avoid ending this story, and now it has finally come. This final chapter will most likely be uploaded days after I finish writing it (which will also take time, for I will give nothing else than a perfect ending to you all) because is acting funny and won't list any stories for me, so I have to update from a friend's house. I am very sorry for making you all wait, but there are circumstances at work that are beyond my control. As I will not be putting an endnote, I want to say thank you to all who read, whether you reviewed or not, and I hope you will read my next story once I decide what the hell I'm going to write about. 'Til then; adieu.

Now I really am crying.

Chapter 31

Finale

I was lead down a dark corridor that, if it was lit and kept better, would have looked like a hallway at Linda's. I knew I was going to see Tom, and that I was certainly going to be punished for running off like I did. But somehow I wasn't nervous; I knew there was nothing they could do to punish me any further. They could have me raped- so what? I was bloody well used to it. They could Cruciate me, but the thought of that didn't bother me too much anymore. This is what I thought, but I had not yet been fully broken. I would find that out when I went to see Tom. But first, I had to have some good, mean-spirited fun with Severus.

"So, Severus, what does your dad think about this? Pretty proud, is he?" I couldn't tell if he flinched or not due to the flicker of the candlelight, so I decided to keep going, "He was proud, wasn't he? Ooh, I see... he wasn't? What'd he do, Severus? Did he beat you again, reopen that scar of yours?" At this remark I grabbed his face and turned it towards me so I could see the large gash that had been sloppily sewn up months before to see that it had in fact been reopened, and Severus jerked his head away and kept walking.

"Why won't you talk to me?" I asked, changing my tone entirely from sinister to sincere, and then back to sinister when I was ignored, "Whatever, Severus. You probably deserved it."

Severus turned abruptly and single-handedly gripped my throat, instantly bring me to my knees while I simultaneously gasped for a breath of air that I didn't have to privilege to take before this action was carried out. Within Severus' thin arms was a strength that would have never been guessed by the eye alone. His fingers were gripped tightly around my neck and deepening into the faded hickeys, making them dark again, but those same fingers quivered with an uncertainty that was so familiar in the Severus I once knew, whom had now been taken by the serpent that dangled on his forearm, moving in all of its sinister glory as the light flickered on the arm the held me down.

It's a right shame this isn't a metaphor for something, because it would be a bloody good one. Damn the literal sense...

I could see in his large black eyes that he had changed, yet it was clear that a phantom of Severus' former self still resided within him. But I knew there was no way to get him back, no way to retrieve my one and only true friend. This would be one of the last perspectives I would see Severus from, and one of the last few times I would see him at all.

He didn't utter a single word, he just watched me struggle in his grasp as his hand slowly closed around my neck, bringing the pipes inside it closer together than they ever should have been. Severus' eyes and expression said everything he was thinking, as they often did. No one else could read that, though, but me. I could see in every nervous gesture and in his unsure stance that he was wondering why I had become somebody neither he nor I could recognise. He was asking me why this all happened, and why we had both been born into the lives we lived and why that world had thus far come crashing down around our feet. I had no idea how to explain it, and even if I did, I'm not sure I would want to. My heart was sore, and I knew I was alive only when I felt Severus' hand threatening to take that feeling from me, and all other feelings I would ever have away as well. This was the curse of all pure-bloods, and every child of this nature that comes after us will share this same burden. Whether or not those children would be in the same position as I was then was entirely unknown to me.

After staring at him for a long time, I finally stopped struggling. If he was going to kill me, then I wasn't going to fight it. I'm sure that he would have to deal with his master afterward if he did so, as Tom most likely wanted to be the one to lay waste to me. Feeling me relax under his grip, Severus tightened his hand for a moment, and then released. I looked at him for a few seconds, then stood in a manner that told him I was ready to face Tom. He returned my gaze, and then regained his usual steely look and brought me to the end of the hall.

The doors in this narrow and musty hallway were all that the doors of a dilapidated building should look like; peeling brown paint, tarnished brass doorknobs, and rusty hinges that squeaked every time you opened them, making the perfect scene for a haunted house. But Severus lead me to a door was finely carved and polished, and looked to be made out of the darkest mahogany I had ever seen. The silver doorknob gleamed in the golden light of the candles, and I saw that a snake had been carved into it and coiled as if it was going to strangle the doorknob itself. The door knob then twisted and the door swung open in a haunting welcome, and it was obvious that I was supposed to enter. Severus stood stationary behind me, and I assumed that he wouldn't be joining me. The door shut quietly behind me as I walked, and looked about the room which was, of course, dimly lit. I could play this whole scenario out in my own words without even seeing it happen; Tom would emerge from the shadows with a whole speech planned out about how weak I had been to run and how disloyalty would not be tolerated and then he would 'discipline' me and send me out with nothing but a sore ass a bit less self esteem than I had when I entered.

This is what I thought was going to happen but, like many of the things I assumed in this period of my life, I was deathly wrong.

The door creaked open behind me, and Tom stepped in. He didn't say a word, and he didn't even look at me. With a flick of his wand, two steel chairs appeared in the empty room. Tom sat in one of them with a graceful whoosh of his black robes and stared at me with those haunting green eyes, asking me to sit down without speaking. I complied and sat in the chair opposite him. We had not sat there very long, but just long enough for me to realise that I was actually in quite deep shit. The foreboding feeling in the room doubled as Tom studied my face, his own incandescent in the scarce light. I must have looked terrible; not sleeping in nearly three days had done its number on me in the past, and with all of this anxiety that I just couldn't hide anymore I knew I looked a wreck.

"I'm not going to ask what you thought you were doing, Regulus. I'm not even going to ask why you went looking for your brother for help. With the gift you have been granted, it is no wonder that you would try to escape what has now become your fate. No doubt you have seen the fate of Sirius, and perhaps even seen something that may be of great importance to me."

I sat there and listened to Tom talk, making the decision to not respond to anything he said to me. He would not get me to speak, no matter what he did.

"And though you are thinking that I will not get you to speak, Regulus," Damn it, he could read minds all of a sudden, "I will get you to reveal the prophecy to me." The intensity and aggression in his voice heightened, and I tried not to let the imminent panic in my mind show on my face. But before that would come, the confusion would. What prophecy? I had never heard any prophecy!

"You have heard it, Regulus!" Tom's face darkened, "In your subconscious thoughts you have heard the prophecy whispered, or hissed, to you."

I now knew what he was speaking about; the horrible face that haunted my nightmares. The vision of a snake's face on a man's body telling me words that were burned into my mind. I thought of a question in my mind, but the 'prophecy' I kept locked away tight. Why do you want these words, and why should I give them to you?

"Why I want the prophecy is a reason that you will learn in due time, if you live long enough to realise it."

This was the first time Tom had ever threatened me. I retaliated in the only way I knew. If you kill me Tom, you will never get the prophecy.

"Yes, I will. But I find you much more useful when you are alive, so I would rather not take such drastic measures." The gentlemanly air that Tom once had about him was nearly gone, shadowed by hostility and obsession, and I discontinued my responses, closing my mind off to him completely. Somehow, this worked, and Tom began to get very perturbed as to the fact that he could no longer read my thoughts. His eyes widened and squinted many times, as if he was trying to penetrate my mind, and I swore at him many times and called his the worst names I could come up with, but nothing made his expression change. Though this was the case with Tom, I intentionally changed my expression from a stoic one to an entirely sarcastic and abrasive one. I had mastered that look, and it had its full effect on Tom, who was instantly infuriated.

"So, you're an Occlumens? Doesn't surprise me in the least, what with all your talents." I had no bloody idea what an Occlumens was or what 'talents' he was speaking about, so I kept quiet. You could tell in his eyes that Tom was getting angrier every second I didn't speak and there was only so much more he could take. I was going to give him more than he could take; I turned my head away and pretended to not be paying attention him, though there really wasn't anything else in the room to focus on.

"Don't turn away from me, Regulus!" Tom said in a mocking, sadistic tone. I continued to stare at the wall for two seconds, which was long enough not to see the fist coming right for my face. Blood splattered on the wall that I had just been staring at and I was knocked to the floor. He had just rammed a rusty old pair of pointed knuckles directly into my jaw, which felt as if it had exploded. The points, I could see, on this pair were much longer and thicker than the points on father's, and were aged and harsh due to the rust. I didn't know what exactly what that could do, but I knew it wasn't good, and for the split second that I sat there in shock not feeling the pain, I wondered what the rust that was probably now infecting me do. But then that second was over and I let out a yell of terror and of pain that I had never experienced before. I could feel the yell come from the bottom of my lungs, and my throat was burning after I was done. There was a solid hole in my cheek where the knuckles had pierced it, and I was certain I could feel my jaw bone literally jutting out of its place. It was a different kind of pain than the Cruciatus, but it rivaled that in the field of intense agony. I was in so much pain that I almost didn't notice the fact that there was a piece of cloth tying my wrists together and dragging me out of my crumpled position and over to the chair I had just been sitting in and tying me to the back of it so that I was on my knees with my chest against the seat. I felt as though I was going to pass out or start crying, but now was not the time to do either.

There was nothing I could do to see what Tom was doing, but I had been in this position before and I had pretty good idea as to what he was going to do. He ripped off my shirt from the back with his bare hands and I imagined my pants would be next, but I was wrong. Suddenly I felt nine hooks scratch down my back and I screamed out in pain. He was definitely not going to do what I thought he was going to do. The hooks came again, again and again, every now and then sticking in my side or my back and ripping chunks of skin and tissue whenever they were removed. Soon it felt as of I had been bitten repeatedly by some horrible beast, but I was just tied to a chair getting castrated by a man that I may or may not have had feelings for, feelings that had now been replaced by incomprehensible hate and anger as I was whipped over and over for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the lashings stopped, and I shouted out the only words I could think to say after such an ordeal, "YOU FUCKING CUNT!"

If he wanted me to talk, those were the only words I would speak. I couldn't see what was happening, but I could hear Tom moving around, and I knew that wasn't a good thing. There's nothing worse than being tied face down to a chair and being whipped and lashed repeatedly than being tied face down to chair after being whipped and lashed repeatedly and then not knowing what is going on behind you. Luckily enough for me, I was about to find out. My hands were untied, and I slumped against the chair for a moment and took in the pain, wanting to cry but knowing I couldn't. I clenched my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to look at the wounds all over me, but having the horrible desire to at the same time. Either way, I bolted upright in an attempt to show Tom that he had not yet broken me, but I regretted this as soon as I had done it, as the pain seared through me in a white-hot rampage of reverse rapture as I was knocked back to the ground, followed by stars in my eyes and a deafening ringing in my ears. The ringing was not loud enough, though, for me to not hear Tom's evil low laughter as he watched me. I was burning, but my sweat was cold and tears ran from my eyes in an involuntary action of rage. Though there was water coming from my eyes, I wasn't crying, and acted as if it wasn't happening at all. I sat myself up and despite the pain I spat blood on Tom's black shoes, which caused him to backhand me downwards to the floor again, dislodging the tooth that had become loose during my first fall to the floor. Luckily it was one of my back teeth, so my smile was not hindered when I smiled up at Tom from the floor. I was hurting so much that I had to smile, and the muscles in my jaw hurt as I did it. I opened my eyes wide and laughed at him in an insanely raucous laughter that I could tell scared Tom, and he kicked me in the face with the foot I had spat on.

I spat out more blood in the direction my face had been kicked, and I began my madman's laugh again, whipping my head back to Tom and wrenching my body up in an inhuman way that made my spine (which was most likely exposed) crack loudly. I could tell by the disturbed look on Tom's face that he was frightened, and with good reason; I was about to let out all of the emotions of insanity and anger that I had held back ever since I came to Hogwarts, all of the emotions that had slept under my calm and cool exterior until now. I swung my legs around and stood, stretching the wounds over my back which made them spurt blood and walked towards a stunned Tom. I'm sure if he had done this before to a person he did not expect them to get up and start walking two minute after he had castrated them, and even if he had not done this before, I'm sure he didn't expect this result. But I was so used to this sort of treatment (perhaps not to that extent, but used to it nonetheless), and though I felt as if I was going to pass out from the pain at any second, I kept walking across the room to Tom, who was now backed up against the wall he had been arrogantly leaning against moments before as he watched me suffer. In a burst of energy I took two long steps and breached the distance between Tom and I, putting my bloodied face right in front of his so there would be no mistake of him not hearing what I had to say.

"Tom Riddle," I hissed in the snake language I knew he could understand, "If you ever thought for one second that I would tell you anything, then you are so much more daft than I pegged you for being. You should have known from the start that I'm a sadistic fucking bastard who was not to be trusted for any reason at all!" At this point I grabbed him by the front of the shirt and with a mere thought of a table appearing in the room, that exact object smoked out of Tom's wand just in time to catch him as I slammed him down. He was struggling to move his wand up now, and for once was at a loss for words when I slammed my hands down on his wrists with strength that I could have used many times before, but had just discovered now.

You see, here's the thing with extremely powerful wizards: though they are very dangerous and not to messed with at all if you can avoid it, if you take away their wands and they are unaccompanied, they are basically helpless. Except of course if they have Legilimency on their side and you do not, then you are in for it.

I could tell that Tom was trying to used this effect on me, but this was only because I was entirely out of my mind (pardon the pun). I didn't feel like myself, but like some crazed thing that I couldn't recognise, but I welcomed this feeling. I was superhuman, even beyond a wizard, and I knew I was so off the ledge that there was no going back on or trying to hold on, so I just fell with style.

"If you want a prophecy, here's one for you, my Lord! I am going to die, probably at your hands, because you will never get the prophecy out of me. And from where I am, hundreds will rise in my stead. There will be one, Tom, one who will be the end of you! And he is the one you will never defeat because he will be protected by those alive and dead! And one day the protection that the dead give will be known to him, for it is a protection that you and I never had and had never felt! This war of yours against the muggles that I joined will be the end of me, but it also will be the beginning of your end."

My blood was all over his pale terrified face, and he threw me off. I was slammed against the wall and then sunk down to the floor because that added bruises and probably a break to my back.

"Crucio!"

Remember when I said that Tom could cruciate me and I wouldn't care? Well, right now I was eating those words. Along with the searing pain I had already been experiencing, I now felt like I was being turned inside-out and in an agonising wave of weakness I swallowed my pride and screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

The world had become a blur to me, and all that existed was pain. Tom was speaking, but I couldn't hear what he was saying, and I couldn't pass out. I was burning and freezing. I was vomiting and having food shoved down my throat. My body was being ravaged again and again by some invisible person, and there was nothing I could do. Someone had put a wick in spine and set it on fire. My eyes were closed even when they were opened, and I wanted to just give in and give Tom the prophecy, but I didn't. For a split second I fought the pain, and with a sharp crack that bounced against the walls, I apparated.

I could taste dirt and grime, and I felt the coldness of stone from my waist up. I was lying on the ground, I knew that, but where was I? When I was back with Tom, I didn't think of where I was going, I just apparated. I know nobody has ever been able to apparate while under the Cruciatus curse, and I have absolutely no idea how I did it. I sat up and saw that I was in an alleyway, and I hoped to God that it wasn't an alleyway near Grimmauld Place, because that's exactly where the Death Eaters would go first to look for me now that I was gone. I clung to the wall and hoisted myself up, still feeling the open gashes on my back sting with every movement as the air rushed into them. I turned around and vomited due to the after-effects of the Cruciatus, but then stood again in my feeble efforts to walk.

I didn't have my wand, my back was bleeding out all of the blood in my entire being, and I was in an unknown location. My first instinct was to completely break down and slam myself against the wall in anger and frustration, but I didn't do that because I would probably kill myself in the state I was in. So, I kept my cool and walked out of the alley, trying my best to act like walking around stigmatised was an entirely normal action. I soon found that I was in Diagon Alley, which was hopefully very far away from wherever I had been before. This was also a godsend because I had had enough common sense to put a few galleons in my pockets before I left Hogwarts.

It seemed like months since I had seen the school.

In another rare stroke of luck, the light was just fading from the sky, which meant at that time of year that the shops would still be opened. I ran to Madam Malkin's, and though I knew she only sold robes, I vaguely remembered shirts being sold at her shop when I had shopped there in the summer. I walked in and noticed that she was in the back of the shop, and I ran to the shirts and put one on. I also grabbed a thick black robe because the blood from my back was literally pouring out and I was fighting every second to not just give in and die from the pain. Oddly enough, Madam Malkin did not appear in the front of the store when I was there, so I wrote her a note and put the money on the table. I didn't sign my name, but I left my blood there on the paper.

I slipped the hood over my head and left into the street where a few shoppers were still bustling around in their own worlds, not taking any notice of my staggering form. I walked for quite awhile, not knowing where I could go until I couldn't take it any longer. When I came to another alley, I slipped into it and fell on a wall, the stars in my eyes returning. I began to breathe very heavily, and I knew I was an inch away from death. My couldn't take it anymore, and I was lucky it was dark now, for in the morning people would find blood stains on the streets of Diagon. Everything was numb, and I let the tears fall freely from my eyes. I had let myself go, and I prayed that the next life would not be as horrible as this one. I felt myself fall to the ground and lay there for a minute, letting death take me. But then my eyes snapped open, probably as a reflex, and I saw two huge magnified eyes staring at me. I tensed up and breathed in in terror, until I saw that the eyes were attached to the worried and concerned face of a woman wrapped in silks and draped in other fabrics.

"Oh my goodness, dear boy! What has happened to you?" Her voice was high and hysterical, and every time she moved her extensive jewelry jingled in a familiar way. She was speaking to me and trying to get a response, and then I realised who she was and where I had seen her before. I knew I was leaving, I knew I was about to die, but when I recognised her I choked out what I thought would be my final word.

"Sybill..."

I was in the torture room again, and I was standing there looking at a boy sitting in the chair. I had seen him before, but I couldn't remember where. He was thin, just on the brink of lanky, and his emerald green eyes made me think of Tom, but reminded of me of James' mudblood girlfriend. In fact, the boy himself looked very much like James. He was probably my age, but I felt much older than he was for some reason. I couldn't speak, but I knew there was much to say.

"He's dead." The boy said, and I regained my voice, "Who is?"

"Sirius. He's dead." The boy's voice was shaky, as if he was holding back tears, "He went behind the veil and never came back..." He bent over in the chair and began to sob, and I had no idea what to do, "He was the only person... I had left! I should have- I should've..." The boy kept crying, and then his words hit me. Sirius was dead. My brother was dead. Maybe the Death Eaters did it... Maybe I... I broke down in sobs and let my whole frame shake me towards the floor. The boy may have stopped crying, but I didn't notice. Sirius was dead! I let my head roll back and I screamed his name, and the boy did the same thing in sequence. We might have screamed forever, and as we screamed the room grew dark and the brains appeared again on the floor in all of their eerie splendour. But before the boy disappeared, caught a glimpse of James' face with his mudblood girlfriend's eyes, and I saw a bright flash of green light out of the corner of my eye and awoke to the sound of a whistling tea kettle.

I was on a couch, my head propped against the the arm, and I opened my eyes to see that I was in the home of Sybill. I felt no pain in my back, and my bloodied shirt and robe hung on the back of a chair. Sybill came over and smiled an odd but pleasant smile, her glasses magnifying her eyes in an almost comical fashion.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked warmly, the cup of piping hot tea in her hands. I was tired, but otherwise nothing hurt anymore, and I let out a surprisingly happy-sounding, "Fine!"

"Oh, that's very good... I always kept a book of healing spells on the shelf just in case I ever needed them..." I noticed then that her voice was very far-off and distant, just like I had dreamt it, "And now I see that my intuition was correct. Can you sit up, dear boy?" I tried, and to my great surprise did. I looked and saw that every scratch on my body was gone, "Those were some injuries you had..." Sybill said, handing me the tea, "Took quite a bit of magic to heal them, even though I hardly ever use my wand..."

"Thank you," I said, after enjoying the feeling of the warm steam on my face, "Thank you for bringing me into your house." Sybill smiled and said, "Well, you helped me realise that the interview I thought I was having tonight is actually tomorrow night. I do get confused with the dates of this world sometimes..." I sat upright quickly and nearly spilled the tea all over myself, "Is it the interview with Albus Dumbledore?" I asked excitedly, and Sybill stood and wrapped a cloak around her front as if I had tried to make a pass at her, "How do you know that?" She asked in her deep mystified voice.

"I cannot tell you, Sybill," I said, "But there is something I need you to tell him! Something very important!"

"I will not tell him a thing!" She was very flustered, "And how do you know my name?"

"I saw you in a dream!" I shouted, not caring what she thought about me, "You were at the interview with Dumbledore, and it wasn't going very well! You must listen to me! What I am going to tell you is guaranteed to get you the job of the Divination professor at Hogwarts!" Sybill stared at me in shock, her huge eyes even larger than they were, and she crouched down next to me and whispered, "Dear boy, are you a Seer?"

"If I am, then a Seer's life is about to be cut short." At this point I put down the tea and took her hand, which was slightly shaking, and said "Sybill, what I have to tell you, you must remember. I cannot tell you how important it is, but it may save the lives of many people. You must not tell anyone except Dumbledore when your interview begins to go sour, and then you must make it seem like you have gone into a trance when you tell it to him. Also, you must not ever tell anyone I was here, or your life may be in danger. Do you understand?"

She nodded with the innocence of a child agreeing not to tell mummy and daddy what she saw her older brother and his best friend doing when they thought nobody was looking, and I took in a breath of air and put my mouth to her ear, whispering the words that I hoped Voldemort would never hear.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Sybill stared at me and nodded. The little girl look was still on her face when I walked out the door, thanking her for her kindness. She stopped me and asked my name, and after the many feeble attempts of trying to guess, all I told her was, "Good luck with the interview."

The night was dark and silent, save for the soft flutter of an owl's wings high above me. I walked until I came to the place where Diagon Alley splits into Knockturn, and my mind told me that if I walked down Knockturn it would be the last time I would ever see Diagon. If this was true, I couldn't escape my fate. I glanced backward at Diagon once, and that was the last time I saw it. Borgin and Burkes was full of men and women adorned with skull masks, but none of them would move towards me. They wound not advance as the would have before. Even Rodolphus, whose stunning blue eyes were entirely visible under the mask as the candlelight flickered off them, would not speak. I moved through the crown of obsidian robes that outdid my bloodstained shroud. Amidst the crowd was an unmasked Lucius. It was funny; Lucius was once such an imposing figure and made me shake whenever I saw him. But now, looking at him from under my disheveled hair and still feeling the pain from the Cruciatus, he did not stir any fear in me. It was obvious that he was frightened of me now, but was still trying to intimidate me. I stopped walking and closed the distance between us, people shirking out of my way. I stared Lucius in the eyes for about twenty seconds, and then, when he was just about to say something, I jumped at him and growled a stark "Rah!"

Lucius jumped backward like the coward he is and I laughed at him. I laughed at him like a madman and it felt so incredibly good that I replayed the action and made him jump a second time, which made my day if that was even possible, and I just kept laughing as I walked into the back of the store where I knew Tom was waiting. I wanted death, I wanted to be killed. There was no place for me in the world anymore, and murdering me was the best thing that they could have done.

The back room was pitch black, and the was no movement except for the swinging of the door closing behind me, eliminating the last light. There were steps behind me and I felt a piece of black silk fall over my eyes.

"Regulus Black, son of Orion Black, you have been charged with high treason against the Death Eater party, and attempt to escape. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

"Fuck you, Tom Riddle."

"I take that as a no."

I was lead out of the room and down a flight of stairs where I could feel the wind of the early morning wind blowing softly against my face. I was lead through a door and then through many winding halls as if I was in some confusing dream. Then there was an elevator and many creaking stairs that felt as if they were going to give way beneath Tom and I, and also the person who was accompanying us. I assumed it was Severus, but I really didn't care if it was.

Then, we stopped.

I could smell the age of the place I was in, and the age was ancient. The silk piece was removed and, as my eyes adapted to the faint light from the candle held by the Death Eater beside us, I saw a door open to a cell far below the streets of Knockturn. I walked in and stared at the walls, which were grimly decorated with the words and symbols of the people who had occupied this place before me, and the door closed.

"It is time to wait now, Regulus." Tom spoke through the bars in the door in the snake language, and chills ran up my spine that hurt more than the Cruciatus.

And that is the entire story. Great, isn't it? It is the story of my demise, and now, an hour away from the time that I know I am going to be killed (I've counted by the scratches I've added to the wall art in this miserable cell), I think I've explained it as thoroughly as I could. This is the last memoir of my life, and I don't know how many may be placed in this cell after me, I just hope they will have the will to escape that I definitely don't have.

Though I have been cut off from every form of wizard and witch contact, I can still see things that will happen in the future. In the small periods of time when I have succumbed to the exhaustion and hunger, and fallen asleep, one collective dream has come to me. I see myself, not as the thin, gaunt, and half-dead Regulus I am now, but as the handsome and physically healthy Regulus that entered this year of Hogwarts at the beginning of the 1979-1980 school year. And I'm sitting in the cell as I am now staring back at my own cold eyes framed by the shiny black hair that was once the envy of every girl in Hogwarts. Then I begin to speak words I don't understand, but do make sense. Then, after the past me is done speaking, he takes out my wand and a locket that has been in the Black family for generations. He shows me the words that he has magically etched into the metal, I give a nod of consent, and the dream is over.

This dream has occurred so many times that I basically memorised the words I spoke to myself. You may know if they mean anything,

To the Dark Lord

I know I will be dead long before you read this

but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.

I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match

you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B.

It would only make sense that I sign with my initials, though I've never actually written my name that way... what is a Horcrux, anyway?

There's no way of knowing what will happen beyond my death, and also no way of knowing whether or not this document will ever be found. But, if you do find this, I you are not in jeopardy because of it, because you may want to watch your back if Tom is still on a rampage.

Well, now that the story is over, there really isn't much more for me to say, except, goodbye, and good luck. Also, don't fall in love with your brother.

Goodbye, Sirius. I will never see you again, not in life, not in death. Forever we will be separated by space and time, and it is my own fault for where I am today. I love you, my brother, and you will never know it.

Regulus Black was brought above ground to be tried by the Death Eaters. It is remembered by the people who witnessed the trial that Regulus was merely a shell of the handsome young man he once was, and would not respond to any question asked of him. He was killed at the hands of the Avada Kedavra curse by an unknown Death Eater in front of a dispassionate Dark Lord, and his body was taken away to an unknown location. It is said by some that though he did not speak throughout the entire trial, not even to use his last chance to speak in his own defence, those who stood close to hold him would swear to this day that his dying words were a name, not the name of his beloved brother, but the name of a boy that was born nearly a year after he was killed. He whispered the name, "Harry Potter."

Goodnight, my love.