My Life as a Dead Man: Regulus Black, Post-Mortem (Harry Potter): Chapter Four
Title: My Life as a Dead Man: Regulus Black, Post-Mortem
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,643
Characters: Regulus Black, Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback
Warnings: AU (obviously), children death, much grotesqueness
Artist: The fabulous primreceded.
Chapter 4: Bits and Pieces
I suppose for most people what happened next might be described as a horrific experience, but you have to remember that I'd lost the ability to feel much since my time in the soup. Sure I could occasionally feel things, a breeze here, a fish there, but for the most part I was about as dead as a foot with frostbite. So when Voldemort decided to start piecing me back together, I was disturbed, sure, but only by the thought of it. It wasn't like it hurt... not too much at least.
He knelt down and examined my legs first. "These look far too thin to be all that he will need. Bellatrix, bring me that book."
Bella shuffled over, pushing her skirt down to prevent it from getting any of me on her. "Which one, my Lord?"
"The one with the body parts."
She fumbled with them a bit as though she'd never had to deal with a pile of library books in her life. Then she finally settled on one that read ANATOMY: The Basic Building Blocks of the Human Body. A muggle book? Was he serious? I had to stare at it a few minutes before Voldemort noticed me. He pursed his lips together like an old woman who thinks you're telling her a lie, and glanced between me and the book as Bella started flipping through it.
"It has better pictures for this sort of work."
I wasn't sure who he was trying to convince: him or me. Pretty soon it became damn obvious to me that he hadn't a clue how humans were supposed to work, which explained quite a bit about his lack of nose and scaly skin. When Fenrir was called in to help out, I knew this little project was going to be botched. You simply don't call in an obviously feral dog to help put together a complex body. At least I like to think I'm complex, though about midway I felt like I'd been brought down to my most basic elements. My limbs were in a nice, neat pile, and Bella was looking furiously back and forth between the anatomy book and a limb trying to figure out what went where. The image would have made me laugh if it hadn't been my body parts she was working on. I felt like a slab of meat in a rookie butcher’s shop.
By this point I was trying very hard to forget where I was, and in how many pieces I was currently in. The Dark Lord, with all his so-called power and knowledge, was having to confer with Fenrir to figure out exactly where to put everything back inside me.
Fenrir scratched his grey head in confusion. Not a very good habit to have when you're dealing with a body, just saying. "It looks like all that stuff is supposed to go in the bottom..."
And by 'that stuff' he meant my intestines they'd put aside. Sure there weren't much left, and they had fixed that much at least. But putting it all together again was the tough part. And I was learning quickly that old reptilian was not a man for patience.
"But we don't have enough room down there!"
You guessed it, kiddies. He'd put the lungs in my abdomen and my heart was in my throat. Hey, at least he was working on an undead guy instead of some living person. I was beginning to see why this guy had decided to become a Dark Lord instead of a pediatrician. Eventually they put back the rest of me, and even grew out my hair to look like I had when I died. That's when they realized (again) how screwed up my mouth was. Thankfully, Bella decided to take care of it instead of relying on Mr. Bungles and his pet dog. She was at least relying on what the book said to tell her where things went. She regrew my tongue, lips, throat, and even my teeth. For the first time in... well, ever I suppose, I actually liked my freakishly disturbed cousin. Sure she was a tad bit crazy, but there was a hint of concern behind those wild eyes. I guess when she realized that indeed she was working on her cousin, that she couldn't let me leave looking like some kind of disfigured idiot.
Once she was finished, she leaned over me, looking over her work with an air of pride. "Well come on, Reggie. Say something already!"
I rolled my tongue around in my mouth, still not fully able to feel everything. It took a moment for me to remember to breathe in so that I could actually speak. It was strange to think of breathing only being needed for communication, and not necessarily to live.
"Thanks." My voice sounded even scratchier than Fenrir's.
"Excellent, Bella. He looks nearly normal again." Voldemort quipped, sealing up my insides again like zipping closed a suitcase that was filled beyond capacity. I could feel the magic pulling my skin around so it could close up, and tentatively tried leaning myself up on my elbows - yes, I actually had elbows again! Of course my excitement was considerably quelled once I saw the horrible work Voldemort and Fenrir had done to my torso. It wasn't just a little off. It was so far off that I could have passed for the newest casting in The Elephant Man remake. I had lumps everywhere, parts of my insides that had all been shoved inside and forced to fit in ways it wasn't supposed to. I had an extra large lump, or maybe bulge is the proper word, on my right side below my ribcage. (Thank goodness I have a ribcage! At least that minimized the space they could squeeze parts into.) The bulge was lumpy as well, and I poked it with a finger, a deep frown settling in. Was that where they'd put my intestines? I mean, I understood I was dead and all, but really? It was like the Dark Lord had given up in the last few minutes and decided to do a sloppy job instead of putting time in to fix me up proper. Amazing that this was such an eye-opening experience.
The Dark Lord was smiling at me again. I could almost tell before I looked up to see it. He had his hands clasped in front of him, and the posture made me think of my mother when she wanted something. That expression she got when she'd make a request to check up on Sirius or to make sure I gave those 'filthy Gryffindors' a good hexing to put them in the hospital wing. Somehow I didn't think that she and the Dark Lord were that far apart as far as morals went.
"Stand up, Regulus. That is an order, not a request."
And it certainly felt like an order. I felt a tingling sensation all over. It started from my left forearm and went up and down my spine like a really bad trip. I pulled myself to my feet as quickly as I could, tripping over my shaking legs in the process. When I started falling forward, I was amazed that Fenrir was the one who caught me. I could even smell him now, and he reeked of body odor and dried blood. I swallowed down the smell, once again trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I could actually swallow now, and tried to voice the problem.
"Mah-my legs aren't working right."
"Hmm..." Voldemort walked over like a man perusing the magazine aisle as Fenrir stood me up straighter. "Yes, there is a final step. Something to bring the nerves together again, and sort of jump-start the remnants of the brain." He flicked his wand, and it felt like a jolt of pure electriciy went across the surface of my skin, from head to toe. I let out a scream, I admit it. Whatever he did, it hurt like nothing I'd ever experienced. Even getting killed by inferi wasn't that painful. Even after the pain had gone through me, my body was still tense and shaking as though afraid to relax entirely. My fingers were curled up, my body curled inward, hell even my toes curled inward. And then came that painful starving sensation in my belly, where apparently my lungs were now housed, and I remembered I needed to breathe. Apparently I needed to get used to doing that again now that Voldemort decided to bring me back from death. When I opened my eyes, he was crouched down in front of me like some sort of dark, ugly savior. I wanted to spit in his eye.
"Do you know, Regulus Black. Do you know why I brought you back?"
A shudder went through me like the echo of a train that's already disappeared. "To torture me?" I couldn't help but smirk at him. There really wasn't anything funny about being tortured, but just because he had such a hard time putting me together, I figured the torture must have been just as inept. But he shook his head.
"Torture you? What a waste of time! No, Regulus, I have much more important plans for you. Now... transform for me. This time let's try," he paused, his lip twitching to a smile. "Albus Dumbledore."
Then that burning sensation came again, and I had to comply. I focused on an image in my head: Albus Dumbledore in his office, glaring at me over those tiny spectacles of his. His beard was so damn epic. When I opened my eyes again, I'd finished it. I had the beard, the white hair, the gnarled hands, and... ugh, I was butt naked. I frowned mightily, but Voldemort's smile only broadened.
"Excellent. Bella, give him the robes."
Let me tell you one thing I never thought I'd ever say: in my life or in my death. I never realized how damn unsettling it would be to get dressed in front of a Dark Lord. Even if it wasn't my body. Even if I was being forced to do it. I just... I just never wanted to be in that kind of situation, you know what I mean?
Fenrir meanwhile pulled the boat over, and we hopped aboard: Mr. No-Nose in the front with his wench close behind. Then Fenrir pushed me along and I was stuck in a cramped space between him and my cousin - not exactly comfortable on such a small boat.
As we made our way across the lake, I leaned over the edge. I had to squint cause Dumbledore’s eyesight wasn't the best in the world, but I could still make out their faces. Those glazed-over eyes watching me with the hatred of forgotten defeat.
I smiled at them, giving a short wave. "See you later, jerks! I never liked having you as my neighbors anyway!"
From the front of the boat Voldemort glared at me while Fenrir spun me around to face the front. "Keep quiet, corpse."
Well even if I was a tad on the dead side, I wasn't a complete corpse. Not anymore. I could move around, talk, walk, and even stroke my luscious beard. Even if I was going to be a puppet for a vicious Dark Lord, I couldn't complain too much. He might have been the reason I was in the soup, but I never suspected that he'd also be the one to pull me out.
END
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,643
Characters: Regulus Black, Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback
Warnings: AU (obviously), children death, much grotesqueness
Artist: The fabulous primreceded.
Chapter 4: Bits and Pieces
I suppose for most people what happened next might be described as a horrific experience, but you have to remember that I'd lost the ability to feel much since my time in the soup. Sure I could occasionally feel things, a breeze here, a fish there, but for the most part I was about as dead as a foot with frostbite. So when Voldemort decided to start piecing me back together, I was disturbed, sure, but only by the thought of it. It wasn't like it hurt... not too much at least.
He knelt down and examined my legs first. "These look far too thin to be all that he will need. Bellatrix, bring me that book."
Bella shuffled over, pushing her skirt down to prevent it from getting any of me on her. "Which one, my Lord?"
"The one with the body parts."
She fumbled with them a bit as though she'd never had to deal with a pile of library books in her life. Then she finally settled on one that read ANATOMY: The Basic Building Blocks of the Human Body. A muggle book? Was he serious? I had to stare at it a few minutes before Voldemort noticed me. He pursed his lips together like an old woman who thinks you're telling her a lie, and glanced between me and the book as Bella started flipping through it.
"It has better pictures for this sort of work."
I wasn't sure who he was trying to convince: him or me. Pretty soon it became damn obvious to me that he hadn't a clue how humans were supposed to work, which explained quite a bit about his lack of nose and scaly skin. When Fenrir was called in to help out, I knew this little project was going to be botched. You simply don't call in an obviously feral dog to help put together a complex body. At least I like to think I'm complex, though about midway I felt like I'd been brought down to my most basic elements. My limbs were in a nice, neat pile, and Bella was looking furiously back and forth between the anatomy book and a limb trying to figure out what went where. The image would have made me laugh if it hadn't been my body parts she was working on. I felt like a slab of meat in a rookie butcher’s shop.
By this point I was trying very hard to forget where I was, and in how many pieces I was currently in. The Dark Lord, with all his so-called power and knowledge, was having to confer with Fenrir to figure out exactly where to put everything back inside me.
Fenrir scratched his grey head in confusion. Not a very good habit to have when you're dealing with a body, just saying. "It looks like all that stuff is supposed to go in the bottom..."
And by 'that stuff' he meant my intestines they'd put aside. Sure there weren't much left, and they had fixed that much at least. But putting it all together again was the tough part. And I was learning quickly that old reptilian was not a man for patience.
"But we don't have enough room down there!"
You guessed it, kiddies. He'd put the lungs in my abdomen and my heart was in my throat. Hey, at least he was working on an undead guy instead of some living person. I was beginning to see why this guy had decided to become a Dark Lord instead of a pediatrician. Eventually they put back the rest of me, and even grew out my hair to look like I had when I died. That's when they realized (again) how screwed up my mouth was. Thankfully, Bella decided to take care of it instead of relying on Mr. Bungles and his pet dog. She was at least relying on what the book said to tell her where things went. She regrew my tongue, lips, throat, and even my teeth. For the first time in... well, ever I suppose, I actually liked my freakishly disturbed cousin. Sure she was a tad bit crazy, but there was a hint of concern behind those wild eyes. I guess when she realized that indeed she was working on her cousin, that she couldn't let me leave looking like some kind of disfigured idiot.
Once she was finished, she leaned over me, looking over her work with an air of pride. "Well come on, Reggie. Say something already!"
I rolled my tongue around in my mouth, still not fully able to feel everything. It took a moment for me to remember to breathe in so that I could actually speak. It was strange to think of breathing only being needed for communication, and not necessarily to live.
"Thanks." My voice sounded even scratchier than Fenrir's.
"Excellent, Bella. He looks nearly normal again." Voldemort quipped, sealing up my insides again like zipping closed a suitcase that was filled beyond capacity. I could feel the magic pulling my skin around so it could close up, and tentatively tried leaning myself up on my elbows - yes, I actually had elbows again! Of course my excitement was considerably quelled once I saw the horrible work Voldemort and Fenrir had done to my torso. It wasn't just a little off. It was so far off that I could have passed for the newest casting in The Elephant Man remake. I had lumps everywhere, parts of my insides that had all been shoved inside and forced to fit in ways it wasn't supposed to. I had an extra large lump, or maybe bulge is the proper word, on my right side below my ribcage. (Thank goodness I have a ribcage! At least that minimized the space they could squeeze parts into.) The bulge was lumpy as well, and I poked it with a finger, a deep frown settling in. Was that where they'd put my intestines? I mean, I understood I was dead and all, but really? It was like the Dark Lord had given up in the last few minutes and decided to do a sloppy job instead of putting time in to fix me up proper. Amazing that this was such an eye-opening experience.
The Dark Lord was smiling at me again. I could almost tell before I looked up to see it. He had his hands clasped in front of him, and the posture made me think of my mother when she wanted something. That expression she got when she'd make a request to check up on Sirius or to make sure I gave those 'filthy Gryffindors' a good hexing to put them in the hospital wing. Somehow I didn't think that she and the Dark Lord were that far apart as far as morals went.
"Stand up, Regulus. That is an order, not a request."
And it certainly felt like an order. I felt a tingling sensation all over. It started from my left forearm and went up and down my spine like a really bad trip. I pulled myself to my feet as quickly as I could, tripping over my shaking legs in the process. When I started falling forward, I was amazed that Fenrir was the one who caught me. I could even smell him now, and he reeked of body odor and dried blood. I swallowed down the smell, once again trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I could actually swallow now, and tried to voice the problem.
"Mah-my legs aren't working right."
"Hmm..." Voldemort walked over like a man perusing the magazine aisle as Fenrir stood me up straighter. "Yes, there is a final step. Something to bring the nerves together again, and sort of jump-start the remnants of the brain." He flicked his wand, and it felt like a jolt of pure electriciy went across the surface of my skin, from head to toe. I let out a scream, I admit it. Whatever he did, it hurt like nothing I'd ever experienced. Even getting killed by inferi wasn't that painful. Even after the pain had gone through me, my body was still tense and shaking as though afraid to relax entirely. My fingers were curled up, my body curled inward, hell even my toes curled inward. And then came that painful starving sensation in my belly, where apparently my lungs were now housed, and I remembered I needed to breathe. Apparently I needed to get used to doing that again now that Voldemort decided to bring me back from death. When I opened my eyes, he was crouched down in front of me like some sort of dark, ugly savior. I wanted to spit in his eye.
"Do you know, Regulus Black. Do you know why I brought you back?"
A shudder went through me like the echo of a train that's already disappeared. "To torture me?" I couldn't help but smirk at him. There really wasn't anything funny about being tortured, but just because he had such a hard time putting me together, I figured the torture must have been just as inept. But he shook his head.
"Torture you? What a waste of time! No, Regulus, I have much more important plans for you. Now... transform for me. This time let's try," he paused, his lip twitching to a smile. "Albus Dumbledore."
Then that burning sensation came again, and I had to comply. I focused on an image in my head: Albus Dumbledore in his office, glaring at me over those tiny spectacles of his. His beard was so damn epic. When I opened my eyes again, I'd finished it. I had the beard, the white hair, the gnarled hands, and... ugh, I was butt naked. I frowned mightily, but Voldemort's smile only broadened.
"Excellent. Bella, give him the robes."
Let me tell you one thing I never thought I'd ever say: in my life or in my death. I never realized how damn unsettling it would be to get dressed in front of a Dark Lord. Even if it wasn't my body. Even if I was being forced to do it. I just... I just never wanted to be in that kind of situation, you know what I mean?
Fenrir meanwhile pulled the boat over, and we hopped aboard: Mr. No-Nose in the front with his wench close behind. Then Fenrir pushed me along and I was stuck in a cramped space between him and my cousin - not exactly comfortable on such a small boat.
As we made our way across the lake, I leaned over the edge. I had to squint cause Dumbledore’s eyesight wasn't the best in the world, but I could still make out their faces. Those glazed-over eyes watching me with the hatred of forgotten defeat.
I smiled at them, giving a short wave. "See you later, jerks! I never liked having you as my neighbors anyway!"
From the front of the boat Voldemort glared at me while Fenrir spun me around to face the front. "Keep quiet, corpse."
Well even if I was a tad on the dead side, I wasn't a complete corpse. Not anymore. I could move around, talk, walk, and even stroke my luscious beard. Even if I was going to be a puppet for a vicious Dark Lord, I couldn't complain too much. He might have been the reason I was in the soup, but I never suspected that he'd also be the one to pull me out.
END