invalidcorrespondence

[invalidcorrespondence]

Sometimes I feel like I'm still standing on a ledge, if a strong enough wind comes along I'll tip over into the unending darkness.

[invalidcorrespondence]

I wish I could believe there is no afterlife

But my soul will be around for eternity

Life on earth must be damnation

I was judged and damned to hell before committing the crime

If only I could will myself out of existence

Remove my name from the book of life

Never known

Never missed

[invalidcorrespondence]

If my heartbeat screams "I am, I am, I am"

How do I silence it

When my only light is the will-o'-the-wisp

When the beating is overwhelmingly loud

Like standing in a church bell

I AM, I AM, I AM

It reminds me with every beat

I am still here

Left among the living

Silence

Silence

Silence

If only I could will my heart into silence

[invalidcorrespondence]

Regulus had dreaded his appointment for careers advice with Slughorn. He wasn't planning on living long enough to have a career anyway, so what was the point?

Even if he did survive into adulthood, despite the war, himself and the state of the universe at large, what career could possibly be waiting for him? Either he'd be a ministry official under the Dark Lord, or he'd be a convicted death eater in Azkaban. At the moment it was looking more like the latter.

Professor Slughorn suggested he could become either an archivist or a potioneer, and that he saw a lot of himself in Regulus. The very idea of being similar to Slughorn made him want to retch. He didn't disagree with the professor's reasoning though, as he did well in both potions and history of magic, and since he rather enjoyed knowing things. "Why, maybe you should have been a Ravenclaw!", Slughorn had said. Regulus disagreed. He was a Slytherin to the core. Toujours pur, and all that.

Regulus figured it would be best to choose a profession to aim for, at the very least so that he would have something to say when asked about his plans for the future. The other death eaters didn't seem very pleased when Azkaban was mentioned. In fact, Regulus recollected a chair being thrown out the window the last time someone mentioned it at a meeting.

Archivist sounded like the more appealing profession of the two. Surely the Dark Lord would need someone to make sure the historical records at the Ministry showed the right side of history. Regulus could do that. Leave enforcing the new order to his cousins.

[invalidcorrespondence]

The moment James stopped moving, Regulus knew what had happened. He had known this day would come, sooner or later. Regulus would have preferred later.

James was holding his left arm, the dark mark a stark contrast against his pale skin. James pulled his thumb over the mark, some twisted curiosity taking over. He pressed his jaws tighter together when the snake moved under his touch.

“Why?”, James asked, turning his head to look Regulus in the eyes. Regulus let his face form a mask of indifference.

“Does it matter?”, he countered. This was not a conversation he wanted to have.

“Does it- “, James started, desperation trickling into his voice. “Of course, it fucking matters, Regs”. James released Regulus’s arm. What the fuck was he supposed to do with this information? He pulled a hand through his hair and took a step back, turning away from Regulus. “What the fuck, Regs”, James demanded.

Regulus didn’t answer.

After a moments silence, James sighed. “You can still leave”, he said, turning to Regulus, looking like he didn’t quite believe it himself.

Regulus shook his head. “You know I can’t do that”, he answered.

“Sirius left”, James tried, looking anywhere but at Regulus. Regulus flinched at the mention of his brother. James was now pacing, pulling his hair in frustration. There had to be a way.

“Don’t”, Regulus warned.

“Don’t what?!”, James questioned, frustration clear in his voice. “Don’t try to help you? Don’t care for you, don’t love you?”

Regulus took a deep breath to calm himself. “I think it’s time for you to leave”, he said.

James looked at him, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He didn’t bother correcting his uniform as he left.

As the door closed behind him, Regulus released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He sat down, putting his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. How the hell could he salvage this. He wanted James. “Fuck!”, he exclaimed loudly to the empty room.

[invalidcorrespondence]

When the class ended, Regulus packed up his things and told the others to go ahead to lunch, as he had a question about the homework for the professor. As he reached the professor's desk, the door opened with a squeak, interrupting him before he had time to voice the question. Regulus turned to look at the two first-years standing in the doorway.

"Excuse me, prof-", one of them started, but halted his sentence when he saw Regulus. The boy stilled, his eyes widening and his face paling. His friend, a short girl with freckles, was grasping his arm tightly. They both looked like they had seen an acromantula.

"Yes?", Regulus asked, raising his eyebrows. The boy mumbled an excuse and the two first-years hurried off. Regulus turned to the professor.

"Why... were those first-years afraid of you, Mr. Black?", the professor wondered.

"I assure you, I have no idea," Regulus explained. He was equally confused by the phenomenon that had been going on the past two days.

"Hm, I'm sure you must have done something", the professor continued.

"Professor, I promise you, to my knowledge I have done nothing, intentionally nor unintentionally, to scare them"

"Nevertheless, I shall take twenty points from Slytherin, for scaring the first-years. Regulus held back an annoyed groan.

"Of course, professor", he answered, his jaw tight. "If you'll excuse me, I am rather hungry."

He left the professor in the classroom and started walking towards the great hall. He was sure he looked sour, because a group of first-years walking in his direction, promptly turned to run the other way. He was sure he even heard one of them yelp.

When Regulus entered the great hall, he walked over to the Gryffindor table instead of sitting down at his own house's, rolling his eyes at the first-years visibly cowering as he walked past them.

He stopped behind Remus, Sirius and James sitting on the other side of the table.

"Brother, do you mind explaining why the first years run in the other direction when they see me?", he asked. James and Sirius were both smirking, but Peter had the sense to look at least a little worried.

James tilted his head as he answered, "we may have instilled some healthy fear into them".

"You lost me twenty points", Regulus said.

"Awe, boo-hoo, did little slytherin lose points", Sirius mocked. Regulus rolled his eyes.

"You should hex us, just for the effect", James urged. He even had the audacity to wink.

"I should," Regulus answered, raising his wand against James. "But unlike you four, I don't particularly enjoy detention".

[invalidcorrespondence]

Regulus looked at the letter he had received from his mother that morning, ice filling his chest. It was still unopened, but he knew what it would say. He had failed in protecting the Black name from his brother's antics. Walburga Black didn't use howlers, they were undignified. Instead she poured every inch of her fury into a letter.

In reality, he hadn't even tried to stop Sirius. He didn't care if Sirius was a blood-traitor. He was still his brother. Even if he had abandoned him.

Regulus wanted nothing less than to read the letter, to know precicely how he had failed his parents this time.

The ice in his chest was spreading, and Regulus wanted to cut it out. He wanted to feel nothing. Shouldn't there be a curse for that?

Dark magic had always been a part of Regulus' life. He had seen the unforgivables in use before he even started Hogwarts. He had used them himself. Dark magic was in his veins.

Nothing would ever change, Regulus thought. It would always be the same. He would always be Regulus Black. His mother would never be satisfied. Not even if the Dark Lord named him heir.

Regulus pointed his wand against his throat. If his mother could crucio him, why couldn't he do it himself? At least if he was pain he wouldn't feel the same way he was right now.

He had always been destined for suffering. Sirius leaving him with their parents was evidence of that.

"Crucio", he whispered, gripping his wand. Intention in every syllable.

[invalidcorrespondence]

Regulus tried not to feel the sadness he had inside of him, over losing his brother. Sirius was sitting on the other side of the hall, laughing with his friends, his arm around Remus' shoulders. But he may as well have been on another planet.

Regulus and Sirius' relationship would never be the same. Neither would Regulus' relationship with their parents.

Regulus hoped Sirius was happy with his new situation. The fight that had lead to Sirius leaving Grimmauld Place for good had been permanently etched into his mind.

He didn't know which had come first, the screaming or the cursing. The leaving or the disowning. The dragon or the egg. Either way, the result had been the same.

Sirius had taken all the light and left him in the darkness.

[invalidcorrespondence]

Death and duty had always followed him. He was well aware of his duties, where he was supposed to be. He knew exactly what path the fates had woven for him.

Yet, here he was. Standing at a crossroad, summoning the Fates.

The Fates appeared to him as one. "It's not your turn", a disembodied voice said. The Allotter glared at him.

"It's not my thread I want you to correct", Emanuel said.

The Fates laughed. The Unturning looked at him with a menacing smile. "The weave can not be unmade", she answered. The Unturning's lips moved, but the chilling voice came from somewhere far below them.

"Then remake it", Emanuel demanded, frustration clear in his voice. They had to be able to do something.

"Darling, even we do not have that kind of power", The Spinner explained with a soft voice. She looked at him with pity.

[invalidcorrespondence]

James sat in the window of their dorm room, looking out at the stars. He found Leo. And there, in the bottom right, the brightest star in the constellation. Regulus. Alpha Leonis. James felt an unending sadness form in him, the conviction that he could save the other boy waning by the minute.

“You okay, Prongs?”, Remus said, sitting down across from him.

James turned to look at him, pulling his knees closer to his chest. “Did you know that Regulus, the star, is also known as the heart of the lion?”, he asked.

“Seems ironic, don’t you think?”, Remus answered.

“I think it’s fitting”, James said, pressing his palms against his eyes. Talking about him made the feelings come back.

Remus kept his disagreement to himself. If anyone had the heart of a lion, it was James. Not the younger Black brother. “What happened?”, he asked instead.

“Nothing”, James lied, looking out of the window again.

“If it’s about Regulus, I doubt it’s nothing”, Remus said. “I know you’re seeing him”, he explained.

“I’m not”, James said, still looking out the window.

“Not what?”

“Seeing him. Not anymore”. James turned to look at Remus.

[invalidcorrespondence]

“Regs “, James started, biting his lip as Regulus turned to him with an annoyed expression, crossing his arms over his chest. The irritation didn’t reach his eyes.

“Don’t call me that”, he said flatly. Regulus had always hated all nicknames. James couldn’t help but smile. He pulled him into his arms and kissed his neck, happiness refusing to leave his face.

“Re-gu-lus”, James said then, enunciating each syllable. Regulus rolled his eyes and fought to keep a smile off his face. He didn’t care for the way James saying his name affected his heartbeat. “Regulus, Regulus, Regulus”, James continued into his neck.

“Stop saying my name, it’ll lose its meaning”, Regulus protested. Lie. In this moment he wanted nothing more than hearing his lover whisper his name. James placed his hands on the sides of Regulus’s face and stepped on his toes to kiss him. Regulus obliged, placing one had behind James’s head, and the other on his waist, pulling them into each other.

After a moment, Regulus pulled his head away from his lover. “By the way, ‘Regs’ is not going to be a thing”, he said. James just grinned.

[invalidcorrespondence]

Through the corner of her eye, Celia thought she could see a man standing outside the window, but when she turned to look at him there was nothing. Strange, she thought, as the memory kept playing, the others not taking note of her distraction.

“Yesssssss,” James called, making grabby hands towards Gemma, who groaned. “You’re very welcome to stay at my hotel, Gemma, but not without paying”, he said. As Celia stared at the window, she could have sworn she saw something, someone, there. This wasn’t part of the original memory.

The voices faded as she stepped away from the game, leaving a distorted version of herself in the memory. She looked back at her friends before opening the door, leaving the memory behind.

Celia stepped out into darkness, determined to find out who was visiting her dreams. She found herself floating, realizing she was submerged in water when she tried to breathe, instead filling her mouth and lungs with saltwater. Celia felt the panic rising in her chest and looked around for a light to guide her to the surface.

A hand grabbed her arm, Celia struggled against it until it pulled her out of the water onto sharp rocks. Celia coughed, struggling to find her breath. Two hands reached out to steady her.

Celia found herself facing an unfamiliar man. His face was grim, Celia thought he somehow looked young and ancient at the same time. This is new, she thought. She couldn’t remember having dreamt about the man before.

“You don’t know me yet”, he said, as if reading her thoughts.

“Who are you?”, she asked.

“You have something of mine”, he said instead of answering her question. Celia didn’t feel very charitable towards someone who wouldn’t even introduce himself. The man didn’t get a chance to elaborate before a large wave crashed against them. The man pulled Celia into a cave, saving her from being pulled back into the waves. Celia started as she noticed there were doors in the cave walls.

“Who are you?”, Celia asked again, turning back to the man. She crossed her arms over her chest, flinching when she accidentally touched where she had scraped her arms against the sharp rocks.

“I have many names, Celia”, the man said, exasperated. “You’re in my realm now”, he continued. “Presently I can only travel through dreams – I need my ring back”.

Celia looked at him in confusion. “What ring? Why would I have your ring?”, she started. “What the hell are you talking about – your realm?”, she continued, realizing what he had said. “What- What does that even mean?!”, Celia questioned.

The man took a step towards her, and she stepped back. She turned around to look at the doors lining the cave. There were twelve doors, in total. The one closest to her was mahogany, with a stained-glass window.

“You’re not listening”, the man said, agitated. Celia reached for the doorhandle on the mahogany door. “Not that one”, he said then. Celia turned to look at him, curious. She didn’t bother asking why not, instead opting to open the next one, a plain wooden door painted green. Her favorite shade of green, in fact.

Celia woke up in her bed, wet, lungs still aching from the lack of oxygen, scrape marks on her arms and legs. Dreams didn’t leave physical marks.

Celia leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes, taking slow breaths. The next time she woke up her hair was dry and breathing felt like normal, but she still had strange scrape marks.

[invalidcorrespondence]

I would forget it fain, But oh, it presses to my memory, Like damned guilty deeds to sinner's minds.

William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

[invalidcorrespondence]

"What are you reading", Alice asked and reached for the book in Bella's hands.

"It's about vampires." Bella didn't notice the raised eyebrows around the table.

"Why are you reading about vampires?", Edward demanded, forcing a nonchalant tone.

"It's for english. This actually sounds a bit like you", Bella explained and leaned back on her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Emmet choked on his drink.

Bella, focused on how Edward's mouth formed into a thin line and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, didn't see that Jasper and Alice shared an amused look while Rosalie elbowed Emmet to make him hide the smirk forming on his face.

"It says here", Bella started as she gestured to the book, "that vampires are fast and strong, with pale, cold skin." Bella forced a grave expression to her face and continued, "They don't eat or drink, don't go out in the sunlight. Immortal." Bella paused. "Just like you." Bella finished with an amused smile.

"Well you certainly got him there", Emmet said, laughing. Edward gave him a flat look.

"How old are you, anyway?" Bella asked.

"Seventeen."

"How long have you been seventeen?"

"A while", Edward said, rolling his eyes.

[invalidcorrespondence]

I'm tired. I'm tired to my bones. The exaustion runs in my blood. I'm so tired, gravity is pulling me through the ground. Will I ever be awake again? Have I ever been?

What is reality anyway? I don't know. I will never know.

Is it real, when my bones grow in cancerous shapes? Is it real, when I feel the sun on my face? If we were created, is life real? At what point does fiction become reality?

Who was it that said, "I think, therefore I am"? Does thinking equal being? I suppose there should be other ways to be as well. Do bees think? Their sting seems very real.

How does a curious mind come to terms with the questions we will never answer?

How do you believe so strongly in something beyond our comprehension, when I can barely grasp what's in front of me?

I will never be content.

Yours,

K.T.

[invalidcorrespondence]

September 1, 1976

Regulus boarded the train immediately when he arrived at platform 9 ¾. He didn’t bother to wait and see if any of his friends were there yet; instead opting to find an empty compartment.

He massaged his wrists, still feeling the effects of the cruciatus curse. It always made his joints ache for at least a few days. He hoped he would get to keep the compartment for himself, he desperately needed rest. He closed his eyes and leaned back, feeling the beginning of a migraine.

A moment later, the compartment door opened. “Oops, no-“, a voice started, interrupting itself at the sight of the fifteen-year-old boy. Regulus opened his eyes to glare at the intruder.

James Potter was standing in the doorway. He leaned out to tell someone something – telling his friends to find an empty compartment, Regulus thought. Then he stepped inside, closing the door, and leaned back on it, looking at the other boy with concern in his eyes.

“What do you want, Potter?”, Regulus asked, hoping this interaction would be over quickly.

“You okay?”, he asked.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “I’m fine”, he lied, wincing as he crossed his arms over his chest, his joints aching from the movement. James raised his eyebrows in doubt and sat down in the seat across from him. Regulus thought this was going to be the worst Hogwarts Express trip yet.

Regulus ignored James, instead opting to look out the window. When the train started moving, he released a breath as he realized Barty and Evan must have found another compartment. He could handle sitting in silence with James Potter. What he wasn’t fit to handle though, was Barty’s incessant rambling.

Regulus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He took deep breaths in an attempt of suffocating the pounding in his head, threatening to make him nauseous.

“I’ll fetch a healing potion from the prefects. What do you need?”, James asked.

“Why do you care? We’re not friends”, Regulus argued, pressing his palms against his eyes in an attempt at calming his headache.

“What do you need?”, James repeated.

[invalidcorrespondence]

How she has longed; To them whose rage flows in her blood, To them who taught her to stand on her own, To her creators, who made the stars and seas.