James' son didn't like Quidditch. It had taken Sirius quite some time to come to terms with this fact.
He stepped past Harry, who was leaning over the table beside the couch, carefully tying a letter to Hedwig's leg. Harry, noticing Sirius' curiosity, picked up the TV remote and began fiddling with it.
"Harry, what's this thing?"
"Ah, that's called a remote control. It's used to operate the television—yeah, that big black box right in front of you."
Harry stroked Hedwig's head gently, then carried her to the open window, watching as she flapped her wings and soared into the night sky, disappearing into the distance.
While Sirius Black was marveling at how much Muggle technology had advanced over the years, something eerie was happening two hundred miles away, beneath the dark waters of the Black Lake near Hogwarts.
A swirling mass of greenish-gray mist hovered silently in the cold depths.
It had been there for some time. A few weeks ago, the merfolk who occasionally passed by had been curious about this strange, smoke-like substance. They had prodded it with tridents and tried to dispel it with magic, but it never moved, never reacted. Eventually, they lost interest.
Now, the mist was nothing more than a forgotten oddity, save for the occasional merfolk child who might shiver involuntarily after passing through it during a game.
But tonight, after lying dormant for over ten days, the gray-green mist suddenly trembled. A moment later, the vague outline of a man's upper body emerged from within.
"Damn you, Potter! I swear, when I return, I will kill you!"
Even submerged in freezing water, Voldemort could still feel the searing agony of his soul being scorched by an invisible fire.
Revenge. The thought consumed him. Revenge against Potter. Revenge against Dumbledore. But as a mere wraith, he could do nothing—not unless he found a host. Without a body, he couldn't even touch another person, let alone kill Potter or Dumbledore.
He needed a new vessel. A fresh, powerful body.
And then it struck him. How could he have forgotten? Beneath this very lake lay the perfect host—strong, deadly, and, most importantly, his favorite kind of creature.
A chilling, serpentine laughter echoed through the water as the gray-green soul drifted downward.
--
Meanwhile, far above, an owl had completed a long, arduous journey spanning more than two hundred miles. It delivered its letter to its intended recipient, only for the person who received it to vanish in a burst of flames alongside a brilliant red bird the moment they finished reading.
Hedwig tilted her head, hooted twice, and, seeing that the human was not returning, turned and flew toward the owlery.
--
The Next Morning, Godric's Hollow, Harry's Home
"Professor Dumbledore, what brings you here so suddenly?"
At the dining table, Sirius spoke between bites of fried eggs, eyeing Dumbledore curiously.
Earlier that morning, Sirius had nearly jumped out of his skin when he found Dumbledore standing at the front door, draped in his signature white robes and wearing a serene smile. After stepping inside, the old wizard had barely said a word, aside from sparing a glance at Kreacher—who was hunched beside Sirius—before casually transfiguring the couch into a single bed and lying down for the night.
"It would be best if Harry explained," Dumbledore replied, carefully spreading butter onto his toast as he chewed on a piece of bacon.
Sirius and Remus Lupin—who had arrived earlier that morning at Harry's invitation—both turned their inquisitive gazes toward Harry.
"Ah, it's simple," Harry began, pausing when he noticed the puzzled looks on Dumbledore and Lupin's faces. He raised a hand and pointed toward Kreacher, who was curled up in a corner, looking as filthy as ever.
"Yeah, him. Yesterday, when I was near Kreacher, I felt a very strong magical presence—the kind that only comes from a Horcrux. That means he must have been carrying one for years, keeping it close at all times. And the magic felt fresh, which suggests that before coming here, he still had it with him..."
"Wait, a Horcrux?!" Sirius exclaimed. "I think I've read about that in one of my family's books. Isn't that some kind of dark, forbidden magic? Are you saying my house had one of those things?!"
He turned sharply toward Kreacher, who was so shocked that he even forgot to mutter his usual curses about Sirius.
"I told you to get rid of all the dangerous Dark artifacts in the house!" Sirius barked.
"Calm yourself, Sirius," Dumbledore said, raising a hand. "Horcruxes are not so easily destroyed. For a defenseless house-elf, it would be nearly impossible. I myself had considerable difficulty dealing with one before."
"You destroyed one?!" Kreacher suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the hem of Dumbledore's robes with trembling hands, his voice more frantic than ever. "Sir, you truly destroyed one of his Horcruxes?!"
It took both Dumbledore and Harry a while to soothe the agitated elf. But in the end, they finally obtained the locket.
A silver locket, about the size of a chicken egg, adorned with an ornate 'S' formed by a cluster of tiny green gemstones. Under the glow of the chandelier, it gave off a dull, eerie gleam.
As if sensing something, the locket began to tremble violently. A faint, desperate scratching sound echoed from within, as though something inside was clawing to break free.
A plume of black smoke billowed from the locket, swirling and twisting until it coalesced into the shape of a young girl. She appeared to be around thirteen or fourteen years old, wearing a simple robe. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her bright blue eyes—eerily reminiscent of Dumbledore's—were filled with sorrow as she gazed at him.
Her lips moved, and a soft, clear voice emerged from the mist.
"Albus, are you really going to do this? Just like you did back then..."
Dumbledore's wand hand trembled. He slowly reached toward the apparition, his eyes clouded with hesitation, regret, and grief.
"Professor Dumbledore?!"
Harry, Sirius, and Lupin shouted his name, but the old wizard remained entranced, seemingly deaf to their cries.
His outstretched hand passed through the girl's smoky form, and only then did he finally snap back to reality. With a deep, weary sigh, a stream of orange fire erupted from his wand, engulfing the silver locket.
The flames licked hungrily at the metal, melting it away inch by inch. A piercing scream rang through the room before fading into silence.
And then, all was still.
--
The flames slowly withdrew into the wand, leaving only a pile of twisted, unrecognizable remnants on the table.
"The locket! Master Regulus's locket! Kreacher has finally fulfilled Master Regulus's orders! Kreacher has finally done what Master commanded!"
Seeing the locket—something he had tried and failed countless times to destroy—reduced to nothing but debris, the aged Kreacher was overcome with emotion. He began hopping around the living room, cheering in excitement.
"Wait a minute, Kreacher—who did you say this locket belonged to?!" Sirius Black lunged forward, grabbing the elf's attention as he demanded an answer.
"This is the locket that Master Regulus risked his life to steal back from the Dark Lord! Master ordered Kreacher to destroy it, but Kreacher could never do it… but now—now the locket has finally been destroyed!" Kreacher squeaked, his voice shrill with joy.
"It seems the story behind this locket is far more complicated than we thought," Dumbledore remarked, finally regaining his composure. A faint, knowing smile appeared on his lips as he turned to Kreacher. "Would you be willing to tell us everything, Kreacher?"
Kreacher hesitated. His small eyes darted toward Sirius, his lips trembling, but in the end, he did not dare to speak.
"Tell us everything that happened, Kreacher," Sirius ordered.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, Kreacher slowly began to recount his tale.
"Unlike Master Sirius, who ran away… Master Sirius was a bad child. His unruly behavior broke my mistress's heart. But Master Regulus—he had pride. He understood what it meant to bear the name Black, what it meant to have pure blood. For years, he spoke often of the Dark Lord. Master Regulus said the Dark Lord would ensure wizards no longer had to hide—that they could rule over Muggles and their offspring… Then, when Master Regulus turned sixteen, he joined the Dark Lord's cause. He was so proud—so very proud and happy to serve…"
"Get to the point!" Sirius snapped.
"One year later… one day, Master Regulus came to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus had always been kind to Kreacher. He said… he said…"
The old house-elf sniffled.
"He said the Dark Lord needed a house-elf. And so, Master Regulus offered Kreacher. It was an honor, he said. An honor for himself, and an honor for Kreacher. Kreacher had to do whatever the Dark Lord commanded… and then return… return home."
Kreacher clutched his head and began to tremble, his voice tinged with regret.
"And so, Kreacher was taken to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not say what he wanted Kreacher to do. He brought Kreacher to a cave by the sea. It was a vast cavern, with a great black lake… There was a boat by the shore… Then… Kreacher followed the Dark Lord across the lake to a small island. There was a stone… stone basin there… filled with a potion. The D-Dark Lord ordered Kreacher to drink all of it…"
The elf's entire body quaked.
"Kreacher drank. And when he did, he saw… terrible things… Kreacher's insides felt like they were burning… Kreacher called for Master Regulus to save him, for mistress to save him, but the Dark Lord only laughed… He forced Kreacher to drink every last drop… Then, he tossed a locket into the empty basin… and refilled it with potion."
"And then the Dark Lord left. He took the boat and left Kreacher behind on the island…"
"Kreacher needed water… Kreacher crawled to the edge of the island… reached into the black lake…" Kreacher's voice turned into a whisper, hoarse and fearful. "So many hands… dead hands… they rose from the water and dragged Kreacher down…"
"How did you escape?" Sirius asked, frowning.
Kreacher lifted his grotesque little face, his bloodshot eyes staring at Sirius.
"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come home, Master Sirius," he said.
"I understand that—but how did you escape those things? That place should've been protected by spells preventing Apparition," Sirius pressed.
Kreacher blinked at him, as if failing to comprehend the question.
"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come home," he repeated.
"Patience, Sirius," Dumbledore intervened gently. "Let Kreacher finish his story first. As for your question… I believe I can answer that for him." With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore conjured a chair and sent it floating toward Sirius, gently nudging him to sit. "House-elves are remarkable creatures, bound by a different magic than wizards. Many spells designed to deter wizards have little effect on them."
"Oh," Harry nodded in understanding. "Just like how I can use the Invisibility Cloak in school without it being detected, right?"
From there, the rest of the story was easy enough to piece together.
When Kreacher recounted how Master Regulus had been dragged into the lake by the Inferi, Harry caught a glimpse of Sirius—who had, at some point, lowered his head in silence—clenching his fists tightly.
"So, Regulus is still… in that cave," Sirius Black stated quietly, his expression unreadable.
"Yes… Master Sirius…" Kreacher's voice was barely above a whisper. "The cave is protected by powerful magic… Master Regulus was not strong enough… he could not escape…"
"Take me there," Sirius abruptly stood up, fixing Kreacher with an intense stare.
Kreacher's eyes widened in shock as he looked up at Sirius.
"I said, take me to that cave! Now! Immediately!" Sirius's furious roar echoed through the room. "I'm going to bring that idiot back—no matter what he's turned into!"
"Calm down, Sirius," Lupin grabbed his arm. "That place was chosen by Voldemort to safeguard a Horcrux. It's too dangerous—we need a proper plan. Dumbledore is here; we should hear his thoughts first."
"I must say, I agree with Sirius," Dumbledore said as he rose to his feet, his wand twirling effortlessly between his fingers. "And besides… I am rather curious to see what precautions Tom left behind in that place."
At that very moment, deep within the Chamber of Secrets, Voldemort—who had been searching for the Basilisk—suddenly shivered.
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