*He sways forward slightly, the vehemence of the memory's command almost compelling him to physically run. In this case, however, there's nowhere he can run, no more books or manuscripts he can turn to for answers. Whatever other objects Voldemort has turned into vessels for his soul, Regulus hasn't seen a single trace of them, no matter how hard he's looked, since his trip underground for Hufflepuff's Cup. Out in the open like this, stared down by Dementors from under their tattered hoods, Regulus feels exposed, a failure, terrified. When his arm begins to shake, it's not just from the strain of holding the heavy lantern aloft.
A classmate, a Hufflepuff who Regulus is quite confident he has never spoken to, alarms him in the library seat next to him by slumping forward, melting onto the table and over his unfinished homework in hopelessness. "I've tried everything. This is impossible..."*
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Date: 2011-10-03 08:12 am (UTC)A classmate, a Hufflepuff who Regulus is quite confident he has never spoken to, alarms him in the library seat next to him by slumping forward, melting onto the table and over his unfinished homework in hopelessness. "I've tried everything. This is impossible..."*