Lucinda made an unflattering face at his ghost comment. But, his comment about “keeping the equilibrium” made her scoff outloud.
“Oh, sod off, you know what I meant!”
She remembered she was holding a roll in her hand at this and took a large bite to emphasize her point,
His invitation to explain herself caught her off guard. Regulus was not usually the type to ask for elaboration. Something about this had caught his interest.
When he took a seat at the table, Lucinda took that as a cue to make herself comfortable. She sat herself opposite of him, and took another bite of her roll. His “tell you mine, tell me yours” comment made her chuckle. Even now, everything was a bit of a joke for him, and she would have been more than happy to keep up the lighter tone, if not for what she’d have to recount. Where she may have hesitated with others, she went straight into her story. She knew Regulus and sure, he could be a bit intense, but he was ultimately harmless. She could tell him.
“Have I ever mentioned my uncle? Most likely not. Maxim Talkalot, fellow housemate. He owned Maxim’s down in Diagon Alley.”
It had become a bit of a habit for her to mention her uncle’s association with Slytherin house. He’d been the one to show her the ropes, what it truly meant to be a Slytherin. The amount of discounts and special invitations they’d received, solely from House association, was still a bit thrilling to her. She figured mentioning this would keep Black’s interest.
Before she continued, she realized she wasn’t sure what he might have heard, through the news or, perhaps, the Order themselves. Maybe the mention of Diagon Alley was enough for him to understand what might have happened? She clenched her fists a bit and took another bite. Better to just get it over with.
“Owned, being the operative word. What’s funny is, I couldn’t even tell you what caused it. We were doing everything right. I was doing everything right. Staying low. Waiting it out. Shaking my head at the so-called activists, chasing after their own demise. Idiots. Yet, I still went into work on Sunday and watched my uncle’s life’s work explode before my eyes. Dark Mark and all, because Merlin forbid we’re confused about who might be running around blowing up buildings. There’s too many dark wizards about, right? Wouldn’t want to get mixed up.”
She began absently picking at her her roll.
“My uncle’s all right, by the way. He managed to survive. We did have a casualty, though. Miss Verna Thornburry. Middle-aged woman with a stick stuck up her arse, but that doesn’t earn her a death sentence.”
She suddenly tossed he roll away from her, watching it bounce down the length of the table. She wasn’t hungry anymore.
”And, what am I supposed to do, right? Am I supposed to stand by and allow it? Of course bloody not! Most importantly, am I supposed to insult my uncle by throwing the job of delivering him the justice he’s owed to some Aurors? Of course fucking not. There’s your explanation. It’s personal now. Idiotic ideologies are one thing. I’m not here for any of that nonsense. Let them kill each other over that. But, the embarrassment, the disrespect, that is all unforgivable. So, here I am, traipsing around McKinnon Farms, sneaking bread and chatting with a ghost. Great help I’ve been to the cause thus far.”
Lucinda managed to cool her growing temper with that last good-natured jab. That was probably the most thorough explanation she’d been able to give thus far. That was a good sign, she supposed. At least she could talk about it, even if it fired her up.
Realizing she had nothing more to say, she mirrored Regulus’ smirk from before and balanced her chin upon one of her fists.
“So. What’s the ghost doing here, besides haunting the farms, sneaking bread, and chatting with me?”
“Yes, I know your uncle’s shop,” he said. Of course he did. Everyone knew of Maxim’s - most people knew of the Talkalot’s, despite them not being as high class as most of his housemates. The mention of how the shop had been destroyed, however, made Regulus raise his brows. He’d heard of the explosion - he’d been at the Potter Estate, after all. Had killed a man to keep his own secrets. But he hadn’t known it was Maxim’s.
He listened as Lucinda ranted. And, oh did she rant. It was like she was having a full on conversation with herself and he could remember this being something he did often when they were both children (she was still sort of a child, wasn’t she? Did that make him one as well?) He’d thought about how her surname suited her well.
She ranted about how the Dark Lord had brought the fight to her doorstep - how she’d lost a coworker (perhaps a friend?) - and it had become personal. It was honest and that was refreshing. Because the reason for being here was a bit more selfish than some others might’ve said.
How many times had he needed to listen to someone say because it was the right thing to do before he rolled his eyes so hard that they might roll from their sockets? While Lucinda’s answer was a bit less self-sacrificing than many of the other Order members, at least it was real. It was also bloody stupid.
“I am sorry to hear about your uncle’s shop,” he began. “But a shop doesn’t equal a life. The Order doesn’t know what they’re doing here - they’re losing, Lucinda. If you want out with your life, I’d reconsider your choices upon being here. If you don’t care much about that... then, by all means, be my guest. And good luck to you. This lot are quite insufferable. I’ve considered Avada Kedavra’ing myself multiple times since I’ve arrived.”
He pulled the butter towards him and used the knife to butter his bread. When looking at Lucinda and listening to her story, he forgot that the knife had probably been used by lesser blood. “I can’t tell you my story in the same way you’ve told me yours, I’m afraid. What I will say is this - I fought for the Dark Lord, I saw the inside of the other side and it was terrifying. Not just what he’s doing, but what he will do. The Truth is... he will end the world, if we do not stop him.”
He took a bite of the bread. “The Order is the only chance of doing so, though it seems like efforts are more slim every day. I am not afraid of death - I’ve seen it in my eyes gaze.” He did not outright tell her he had died but, if she were smart, she might be able to discover it anyway. “But I am afraid of what the Dark Lord will do if he wins. I had information - I gave it to the Order. And now I hope the world will live to see another decade.”
