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Bring me to life

Summary:

Regulus is 17 and he’s going to die. He didn’t even make it to 18. His mother would be disappointed. Sirius even more. Not like he wasn’t already.

He lets the fight drain out of his body as the inferi’s hands pull him down deeper, dragging him into the dark.

I’m sorry, he thinks.

And everything goes black.

Or

Regulus dies in the cave, however when he wakes up again in his bedroom at Grimmauld place, he’s 16 years old again, without a mark to condemn him. Regulus is determined to fix his mistakes and end Voldemort.

Notes:

Hi, hi!

I’m writing this fic because I loveeee time travel fics.

I’m not a native English speaker so please if you find mistakes you can point them out and I’ll correct them! So, sorry for any potential grammar mistakes.

This will be my first fic ever, just so you know.

I’m very excited for this fic and I hope you will be too!

Enjoy

Love,

Arabellawho

Chapter 1: A second chance in death's grip

Chapter Text

Regulus never liked water. 

But Regulus is drowning now. Salt and water is being forced down his throat, and hands are dragging him down. He tries to scream, but the water drowns out his pleas. 

Nails dig into his skin, tearing it open as his blood pours out of his body.

He cries out for Sirius, searching for him in the water. He was so sure he was there. But he can’t move against the strong grip the hands have.

He doesn’t feel any pain, even though he knows he should, but he’s so desperate to find Sirius to get him out.

He saw Sirius falling into the water, calling out his name, but he is not there. 

The salt is burning his throat now; his voice already gave out, silenced by the waves.

The poison from the potion is making his head heavy and foggy. Distant voices sound out, some he recognizes as echoes of his past. But the voices aren’t actually there; they aren’t real; they can’t be. Some voices belong to dead people; others you could count the same. It's an illusion. They are tricking him into a world that’s slipping away.

Sirius isn’t here. 

He tries to think of the sun, hoping it might save him, but all that comes to mind is a pale, distant memory. The warmth it once held seems lost to him. Buried beneath layers of pain and coldness.

The locket is cold against his skin; it’s why he’s here in the first place. It's coming back to him now.

Regulus desperately tries to move up again and fights against the inferi, but with no luck. He needs to get the locket to Kreacher and give it to Dorcas so she can finish his project. 

He tries calling out Kreacher's name, but his voice refuses to make a sound, and even if he could scream, he has already sent Kreacher away in his poison-staked mind. 

Dorcas needs to get the lock. Dorcas needs to know his plan; she doesn’t know; Regulus didn’t want to burden her with this sickening secret. She’s the only one who would understand. 

His head is throbbing and his muscles are fatigued. 

Regulus is 17 and he’s going to die. He didn’t even make it to 18. His mother would be disappointed. Sirius even more. Not like he wasn’t already.

He lets the fight drain out of his body as the inferi’s hands pull him down deeper, dragging him into the dark.

I’m sorry, he thinks. 

And everything goes black.

 

-

 

Regulus breaks out in a cold sweat as he sits up in his bed, breathing heavily. His hair is disheveled—a rat's nest really, nothing like his perfectly styled curls they usually are.

His heart is beating hard against his chest, trying to escape him. 

He drops himself back against his mattress, which bounces back at the sudden weight. 

He tries to regain his composure—he probably just had a nightmare. He sinks his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. 

He tries counting to ten to regulate his breathing—a trick Cissy taught him when he dealt with a lot of panic attacks when he was young. 

How he wishes she was here—to rub his back and comfort him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear, or tell him stories about a woman with coffee brown eyes—alas she isn’t here. And he isn’t foolish enough to wish for Sirius. 

Once his breathing has steadied again, he tries to regain his memory of this nasty nightmare.

The memory hits him back with full force. His eyes widen and his breathing stops; he knows that wasn’t a nightmare, and he also knows he should be dead.

He is breathing shakily, trying to suppress the trauma he suffered. He lays in bed, his tear ducts already forming small tears he refuses to shed. 

Hands. Water. Pain. Sirius in the water.

He presses his head hard against the pillow, not for the pain it fails to bring but because the motion somehow helps push the memories further back, deeper into the shadows of his mind. When the cave’s horrors are finally buried, his body collapses into the bed, muscles going slack.

For the next ten minutes, he stays sprawled on his bed, his mind a fragile peace he dares not to take for granted.

When he regains his consciousness fully again, he starts to think.

Who saved him? Because it couldn’t be Kreacher, he had left without him; Regulus had begged him to leave—which perhaps wasn’t really clever since Regulus still had the locket. If he thinks back on it, Regulus' dead body carrying the locket underneath the waves was probably a better hidden spot than its former place.

Regulus' breath stops. The locket is still supposed to be around his neck. He reaches for his chest, searching for the locket, but his fingers brush against the sun necklace instead. He sucks in a sharp breath. He doesn’t have the sun necklace anymore.

Dread fills him entirely. Whoever saved him must have the locket, but why would that person carry this particular sun necklace? And why would they put it back around Regulus' neck? Regulus frowns. 

That’s when he takes notice of his surroundings. The room in itself is rather boring. Gray walls, green curtains, a black bookcase filled to the brim with books, and a wooden door connecting to a bathroom. Regulus bathroom. Because this is his room.

This confuses Regulus even more. He pushes his covers back, drags his legs over to the side of his bed, and holds his face in his hands. He needs to think. Because he knows that whatever happened was not a nightmare. And he isn’t stupid enough to believe any of his family members who have access to this house would save him.

He scratches his left forearm, a nervous habit of his after he got the mark. 

However, that's when he notices something strange. He pulls his right hand back, looking at his red forearm, from the anxious scratching, but besides that, blank, dark mark-free. 

Regulus is pretty sure his heart skipped a beat. He remains quiet for a moment. too out of it to give a reaction to this sudden turmoil this day has led him to. 

His body jumps up when he hears a crack of apparition Kreacher filling up some of the empty space of his dull room. He straightens his back and stands up, his gaze filling Kreacher in. 

He doesn’t look scared or traumatized at all since the last time he saw him. He looks like he always does. Grumpy, but softens when Regulus eyes land on him.

“Are you ready for breakfast, young master Regulus? The train will leave soon." Kreacher's eyes narrow as he examines Regulus’s body, picking up on a sense of weariness.

Regulus' mouth is gaped open, not able to form a response to his house elf’s question. Train station? What.

Kreacher waits politely for Regulus to come up with the words to answer his rather easy question. 

Kreacher has always been like this. Regulus has never been good with words; he never knows what to say or when to speak. That was Sirius' virtue. 

Kreacher always waits for Regulus to form his sentences; it wasn't that he couldn’t make proper sentences; he just couldn’t always immediately pronounce it in speech. That wasn’t the case with writing, though; he was brilliant at that.

Regulus shuts his eyes, begging for any god that might exist to explain what the fuck was going on. 

“I need a moment to clear my head and get dressed,” he responds after a while. Kreacher nods. 

“The mistress and master are out and requested Kreacher to bring you to King’s Cross station, young master Regulus.” Kreacher adds (probably because Regulus is gaping at him in confusion), and then he apparates away when Regulus takes too long to respond. 

Regulus takes one more breath and goes to the shower to cleanse his mind and figure out what’s going on.

Once he finishes showering and dressing, he walks downstairs, skipping all the creaking steps from the stairs out of habit. 

He opens the room leading to the dining table and sits down. His elbows are resting on the table, his hands on the back of his head. His mother would have hit him for sitting in this position, but she isn’t here, so it doesn’t matter. 

Okay, so what he knows is that he’s apparently markless now and exactly nothing gives away from the rather unpleasant experience he’s had. 

Strange thing number 1: He isn’t dead. He doesn’t know whether that’s a good or bad thing, so he doesn’t think about it and moves on. 

Stranger thing number 2: His mark is gone. 

Strange thing number 3: Kreacher is acting normal, like Regulus didn’t almost die a few days, weeks ago, or however long Regulus needed to recover.

Number 4: Who saved him from the cave, why is he back home, and where is the locket?

Number 5: Why was Kreacher talking about dropping him off at the train station? He hasn’t gone to school in over a year. It wasn’t needed after he got the dark mark, besides he’s almost 18 now it’s not like he’s supposed to be in school either way.

If it’s the start of the school year, he’s had been unconscious for months, Regulus muses dread filling his entire being. 

His thoughts are cut off when the door swings open and reveals Kreacher and a flying dish next to his head, which flies towards the place Regulus is seated. Tableware plops next to it as soon as it reaches the table.

It’s a rather simple dish in most people's eyes but not in Regulus’. It’s the dish Kreacher makes when Regulus can’t stomach getting any food down when he’s either stressed or just not hungry.

He sighs, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he silently eats his food.

The house is quiet again when Kreacher leaves Regulus to eat, not boding well for Regulus, whose head is too loud to navigate his thinking.

As Regulus finishes, he gets up and walks back to his room to brush his teeth. He skips the creaking steps again and waves his door open.

He’s in his bathroom, rather depressing with the black walls. He leans his hands on the sink, gripping it tightly and staring at himself. He has dark circles under his eyes, but he looks healthy otherwise.

His cheekbones are high and proud, not sunken and hollow. He doesn’t have a haunting look on his face, he isn’t deathly pale anymore, and his hair is shorter, his curls only going just beneath his ears. His mother’s doing most likely. 

He bites his lip, shaking his head, and splashes his face with cold water. He needs to get himself together. 

Whoever saved him has the locket. Because it can’t be that it was a nightmare; it just can’t, even though he can’t prove otherwise. His skin should’ve at least bore the scars the inferi would’ve left, but nothing remains. 

All he needs to do is get his research, get the locket back, destroy it, and search for all the other horcruxes like he promised himself. Although, if Kreacher is to be right and he apparently needs to get back to Hogwarts for whatever reason, he might make this trip useful. 

He knows there might be some information about potential horcruxes and Voldemort's backstory at Hogwarts.

All he knows is that he made about 7 horcruxes from his obsession with the letter ‘7’. He hasn’t confirmed it though, but back when he was in Voldemort's library, only for his best students (which included Regulus), he scribbled the letter 7 in all his dark magic books. 

It’s how he found out about horcruxes in the first place; Voldemorts shouldn’t have been foolish enough to leave a book with the information about ‘horcruxes’ lying around; alas, he underestimated his ‘followers’. 

It was the first place Regulus looked when he was searching for potential ways how one becomes ‘immortal’.  

Sadly, there wasn’t anything that gave away about his past, so he hopes Hogwarts could offer him some. Everyone has a story, and he will find out Voldemorts.

Regulus heads downstairs again after brushing his teeth and calls for Kreacher to ask about this train station confusion. 

Kreacher plops in front of him, a question in his eyes. 

“Uhm, you said I was supposed to leave for the train station; are you sure that’s what mother asked? That I’m to be expected at Hogwarts again?” Regulus asks slowly.

“Yes, young Master Regulus, Mistress has instructed Kreacher to take young Master Regulus to King’s Cross station to start his sixth year at Hogwarts,” Kreacher states, eying Regulus suspiciously.

Regulus takes everything in his willpower to not drop to the floor. His sixth year? That would mean he’s 16 again; that doesn’t make any sense. 

Luckily, Regulus' expression doesn’t falter at his inner turmoil. His expression is still blank, a slightly bored look on his face, not rude but not kind either, as always. 

He tilts his head in understanding. "Right, sorry, I knew that; I had a long night,” Regulus explains to Kreacher’s narrowed eyes. Kreacher lets it slide because Regulus has had trouble sleeping for years to kreacher knowledge.

“Kreacher will be taking young Master Regulus to the train station now, sir.” He instructs, and Regulus nods. Here we go, he sighs internally.

 

-

 

They arrive at platform 9¾, which will depart for Hogwarts. 

Regulus is looking stone-faced as the station's view fills his vision. Hogwarts is filled with his happiest memories, and being back here again after all this time…

Regulus nods at Kreacher and watches him disappear. Regulus straightens his shoulders and makes his way to the train.

That is until he bumps into someone to Regulus' great annoyance, and he gets ready to curse said person out, and that is when he notices the person. It’s Sirius. Regulus is tongue-tied and eyes wide when Sirius scowls and rubs his arm from where he had hit Regulus. 

When he looks up, his scowl is even more profound than it had been before. He’s glaring at Regulus, almost making him combust into flames with the anger in his eyes. Fucking great. 

He looks Sirius up and down, soaking up any details he might have missed, but he just looks exactly like he did in his seventh year. Regulus ignores this for the time being. 

He looks happy, fed, and not sunken and tired from the war the last time Regulus saw him. 

Regulus wasn’t all that happy to see Sirius after their last encounter.

‘You’re dead to me.’ Flashes through his mind.

Which Regulus might as well, when he ended up in the cave not so soon after.

It had hurt though, because all Regulus did was try to make his brother proud. 

Regulus wondered what Sirius would say now. Regulus readies himself when Sirius' mouth opens until someone puts his arm around Sirius' shoulders, stopping him from saying anything at all. 

His eyes move to the person.

It is James. 

And Regulus fucking aches.

He has missed James so much the past year. It is like his heart starts beating again after being frozen for so long. He's back in James' presence, and he feels safe for the first time in a year.

James seems to be looking extremely relieved once their eyes lock, with a bright smile on his face and his eyes almost watery. Regulus isn’t going to reflect on that. 

They seem to be staring at each other for an eternity until Sirius breaks their staring by speaking, which, rude?

“Well, well, if it isn’t my dear brother, making a grand appearance. I’d almost forgotten what you looked like.” Sirius sneers, which James frowns at and Regulus scowls at. 

Sirius pushes James off of him and flicks his hair for dramatic effect. Git. 

His hair is long and wavy, the same as the last time he saw it, which still looks fucking stupid, in Regulus opinion, but it might be a good idea to not point that out if he wants to prevent a world war from happening. All the things Regulus does for Sirius.

Regulus rolls his eyes at his dramatics and crosses his arms, eyebrows raised in a ‘ Come on then, do tell me whatever you’re thinking’ way.

This seems to annoy Sirius, who easily read his expression’s meaning and opens his mouth to start firing curses at Regulus, but James cuts him off with his eyes still directly on Regulus, which he’s pretty sure hadn’t left him at all.  

“Hello Black, sorry for Sirius; we are leaving again; good bye.” James tears his eyes away from Regulus, dragging a pissed Sirius with him, who struggles against James' grip but stops fighting and slumps against James' shoulders once they’re not even 3 meters away from Regulus.  

Regulus scoffs. 

His gaze keeps lingering on James, trying to soak in any new details of the boy who owns his heart. 

But there really aren’t any new details, though. Because James looks exactly the way he did a year ago.  

Everyone is exactly the way they used to be. Plus, Kreacher had said Regulus was to begin his sixth year at Hogwarts. 

James looked happy to see Regulus; they were still dating during Regulus' sixth year, which releases butterflies in Regulus' stomach at the thought because that means they are together right now.  

Regulus suppressed that thought in embarrassment that he still isn’t over James.

It must be right? James would be disgusted if he saw Regulus again in his other life. Past life? Future life? He doesn’t know. 

Anyway, it does explain his reaction to seeing him again. James always had been worried when Regulus got back from Grimmauld Place, afraid Regulus had been tortured. Which well, did indeed happen. It had been bad before, but it was even worse when Sirius left; someone had to be the bigger punch bag Sirius left in its wake.

Which means it’s true. Regulus indeed got sent back a year ago. What the fuck? He doesn’t understand what’s happening. Is this a freaking joke? And even if they did travel back in time, why is no one noticing this besides Regulus? 

Whatever the reason, Regulus will find out.

Plus, given that he’s granted another chance of life before the dark mark, Regulus will fix his mistakes and end the war, just like he promised himself.  

Whatever it takes.