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As soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, he picked up a small silver goblet from the pouch he carried with him. It had delicate etchings on its surface. He poured a small amount of the pinkish liquid from his own supplies into the cup, then reached for the emerald green potion in the stone basin. His hand was just about to touch the liquid when Dylan's hand shot out and rested firmly on Dumbledore's shoulder. With his other hand, Dylan gripped Dumbledore's wrist with surprising strength, making the old wizard pause.
"Professor, we really shouldn't be so hasty," Dylan said, a small smile on his face. "We don't know what this potion does. What if... and I mean, what if something terrible happens to you after you drink it? Without you at the helm, I think the whole wizarding world would be thrown into chaos."
Dumbledore glanced at Dylan. Why is he trying to stop me again? He wasn't doing it before, Dumbledore thought to himself. He sighed softly as he looked at his restrained wrist, then back at the basin. "This potion can't wait, my boy. Look closely."
He gestured for Dylan to look at the edge of the stone basin. A trickle of the green liquid was slowly seeping out, following the carvings in the stone. As it dripped onto the stone floor, it evaporated instantly, leaving a faint green stain.
"It's disappearing on its own. If we wait any longer, the Horcrux might vanish with the potion. Someone has to drink it right now."
"I think there's someone else who could try," Dylan said, still not letting go.
Dumbledore frowned, thinking Dylan was going to insist on doing it himself. "You? Absolutely not. I've already said, your future..."
"Of course it's not me," Dylan interrupted. He turned his gaze to the black lake. "I was thinking about the Inferi. There are plenty of them in the lake, aren't there?"
"Inferi?" Dumbledore was taken aback for a second. Then he shook his head, tapping the rim of the basin thoughtfully. "I'm afraid not, Dylan. Think about all of Voldemort's traps so far. The first barrier required blood to weaken our bodies. The boat across the lake drained our magic. This next challenge is surely meant to target the soul. Inferi have incomplete souls. Their spirits are magically bound to their bodies; they can't disperse, nor can they feel anything other than basic instincts. I doubt they could absorb the potion. If we just poured it down their throats, it would probably be no different than pouring it on the ground. It would just drain away, or the Horcrux would vanish with it. It would be a useless act."
"A useless act? How can we be sure it's useless if we don't even try?" Dylan's voice was firm. He let go of Dumbledore's wrist and walked to the edge of the island.
Dumbledore was about to argue, but Dylan had already knelt down and dipped his hand into the water. The lake water was bone-chillingly cold, so cold that it made you shiver just to touch it. But Dylan was more than used to it.
Splash! A great commotion erupted from the water. A few pale bodies climbed out of the lake. The first was an old man with a wrinkled face and purple lips, his tattered clothes clinging to his body, covered in mud from the lakebed. He was followed by a woman with wet hair plastered to her face, her hands still in a grabbing position. The last was a child, a tiny body curled up, clutching a broken piece of wood—evidence of a desperate, final attempt to survive before becoming an Inferius.
Dylan looked at them and paused. Their clothes were Muggle. They were likely local villagers who were not only denied a peaceful end but were also turned into Inferi by Voldemort's dark magic, trapped in this lake for all eternity. Death had become a form of torture.
Dylan's eyes scanned the Inferi that had just crawled onto the shore and settled on the old man. He raised his wand, and a soft, holy light shimmered at its tip, glowing clearly in the darkness.
Dumbledore watched with interest. In the next instant, the light flowed from the wand, snaking toward the Inferius. It wrapped itself around its limbs and torso without causing any harm, pinning it firmly in place. The Inferius immediately stopped struggling.
Dylan carefully lifted the Inferius off the ground with his magic, holding it suspended in the air. At that moment, a chorus of deep groans echoed from beneath the lake, as if countless voices were screaming in pain. The entire lake began to churn violently, and countless Inferi arms reached out from the black water, flailing and grabbing. Some of the Inferi were already halfway out of the water, seemingly enraged by the capture of their companion and ready to rush toward Dylan.
Dylan's expression turned cold. With a sharp flick of his wand, countless streams of holy light erupted from the tip of his wand, surging across the surface of the lake. The once-still black water now looked like a boiling, nuclear blast zone. Each beam of light created a ripple on the surface. Any Inferius that tried to cross the barrier of light was instantly snared. Their pale bodies immediately blackened like charred wood. The skin cracked, and some of the Inferi even shattered at the first hit, breaking into pieces that sank back into the lake, never to move again.
"Professor, I've brought one over," Dylan said to Dumbledore while keeping the old man's Inferius perfectly still. He gestured toward the Inferi being destroyed in the lake. "I think that once these Inferi are completely destroyed, their incomplete souls will be freed. Perhaps they'll be grateful to me."
Dylan walked closer to the suspended Inferius. He waved his wand and used his magic to pry open its tightly sealed mouth. Then he looked at Dumbledore, signaling that the old man could start administering the potion. He knew that Voldemort had used the most barbaric dark magic to create these Inferi. They were people who had been killed, their bodies already decaying, with only a piece of their soul left, trapped inside. They were forced to watch as their bodies were turned into monsters, unable to control their own movements. Their remaining consciousness was constantly tormented by the cold and dark magic of the lake. For them, every second of existence was unbearable pain. But from the moment Voldemort turned them into Inferi, their fate was sealed; they had no choice.
"We can start now." Dylan held the Inferius's mouth open and nodded to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore picked up the silver goblet and scooped some of the green potion from the basin. He carefully brought the cup to the Inferius's mouth and slowly poured the potion inside, muttering a spell to ensure the liquid went down its throat.
The green liquid slid down the Inferius's throat and into its stomach. As soon as the potion entered its body, the Inferius began to tremble violently. Its limbs twitched within the holy light, as if it were in agony. Even its normally lifeless eyes moved slightly. The partial soul inside was clearly being torn apart.
Dylan and Dumbledore watched the stone basin closely. The level of the green potion didn't rise at all; it was still slowly draining away, which proved that the Inferius's body was indeed absorbing it. Both Dumbledore and Dylan sighed with relief. There was no need for anyone to risk suffering the torment of the potion. If an Inferius could be used, it was better to avoid putting a real person in harm's way.
"Keep pouring," Dumbledore said, scooping up more of the potion.
"You got it, Professor," Dylan replied, using his magic to hold the Inferius's head steady so it wouldn't dodge the cup.
One cup after another, the green liquid was slowly poured into the Inferius's mouth. Each time, the Inferius trembled, as if its broken soul were being shredded. Dylan turned his head away, a fleeting glimpse of agony in the Inferius's eyes was all it took. Dumbledore noticed, too. He paused several times, his eyes full of hesitation, almost giving up on the plan entirely. But when they saw that there was only one cup left, they gritted their teeth and poured every last drop into the Inferius's mouth.
As soon as the potion was gone, a metal object became visible at the bottom of the basin. It was a locket with intricate patterns on its surface, resting at the very bottom. Dumbledore's eyes lit up. He put down the cup and carefully took the locket out of the basin. But as soon as he held it, his face changed. His fingers rubbed the locket's surface, and his initial joy was replaced by confusion.
"Something's wrong," Dumbledore said, his voice full of disappointment. He looked up at Dylan. "I don't feel any dark magic, let alone the telltale signature of a Horcrux. I'm afraid... we've fallen into another one of Voldemort's traps."
Dylan silently raised his wand. An orange-red flame appeared at the tip and slowly engulfed the old man's Inferius. As the body burned, it turned to ash. A faint, translucent wisp of a soul drifted from the ashes. It wore a faint, almost imperceptible smile before it dissipated into the air, finally free. Dylan watched the soul disappear and said, "Even if it's not the Horcrux, let's open it. Maybe there's a clue inside. Voldemort wouldn't go through all this trouble just to lead us on a wild goose chase."
Dumbledore didn't rush. He scanned the locket with his wand and even smelled it, double-checking for any hidden curses or traps. He still took a precaution. "Step back a few paces, away from me."
Then, he raised the Elder Wand and used its tip to open the locket's clasp, all while muttering a Shield Charm, ready for anything. But nothing happened. The clasp opened easily, revealing a small, neatly folded piece of paper at the bottom. The locket was just an ordinary one.
Dumbledore took out the note and unfolded it. It was a few lines of messy handwriting in ink.
"To the Dark Lord,
I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret—the secret of the Horcruxes. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as possible. I am willing to face death with the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more and be killed for good."
Dumbledore handed the note to Dylan, who read it carefully. Dumbledore sighed, "It seems our journey was in vain. More importantly, we have no idea if this person actually managed to destroy the real Horcrux..."
Dylan took the note and glanced at it. "Based on the wording, this person calls Voldemort 'the Dark Lord,' which means they were likely a Death Eater. To have known this secret, they must have been a highly trusted member of an old pureblood family."