Chapter 267 – Regretful Sirius
It really was that simple.
A little fire, some wood, and a few spells that most students wouldn't learn until their second or third year were enough to undo Voldemort's magical trap.
Of course, it only seemed simple. The real reason they had succeeded was Kreacher — the tiny loophole in Voldemort's enchantment, a being who could directly bypass the heart of the magic trap.
But one thing continued to bother Harry: Ron was becoming unbearably smug.
"I told you so!" Ron exclaimed, puffing out his chest. "We've already passed through the defenses set up by Dumbledore and all the professors at Hogwarts — so Voldemort's is nothing!"
"Petrificus Totalus!" Draco snapped, drawing his wand as Regulus's pale, marble-white fingers trembled unnaturally.
"What about Regulus?" Harry frowned.
"Should we just keep him petrified like this?" Draco asked, looking uneasy.
"Sirius should have a way," Alexander said quietly, observing Regulus's stiff posture.
"What kind of ritual could turn a person into something like this—obedient like a ghoul or zombie?" Harry murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Zombies? They stink, and their bodies rot," Ron grimaced.
"And ghouls may not stink, but they're uglier," Draco added. "If that's the case, we might as well bury him."
"Master Regulus cannot be buried!"
"Master Regulus is still alive! He can move!" Kreacher's long, bat-like ears twitched as he shrieked hysterically, his voice cracking.
"Regulus?" Harry turned sharply.
"Kreacher, do you have anything else of my brother hidden here?" came a deep, weary voice from the doorway.
"I would never throw away his things. I order you to put them back in his room."
It was Sirius. His voice was heavy, and moments later, the door creaked open.
"Harry, you're here too," Lupin said softly behind him. "It's almost dinner time."
Crunch—
The door swung open.
"How is it so clean—Regulus!"
"You're still alive! Where have you been all these years?!" Sirius rushed forward, grabbing Regulus's unmoving body in his arms.
Kreacher flinched, trying to push him away, but he couldn't disobey his master. His tiny hands shook helplessly.
Regulus's body was cold — utterly devoid of warmth. Sirius froze, realization dawning slowly on his face. His trembling fingers lingered on his brother's cheek.
He didn't speak for a long time. When he finally did, his voice was rough and hollow.
"Kreacher… what happened?"
Lupin, standing nearby, had already pieced together what had likely transpired. He rested a steadying hand on Sirius's arm, silently offering comfort.
"Kreacher promised Master Regulus never to tell," the elf said stubbornly, lifting his chin.
But instead of anger, Sirius only grew quieter. His shaking hands continued to trace the outlines of Regulus's lifeless features — not in rage, but in sorrow.
In regret.
"Perhaps the Daily Prophet was right," he whispered bitterly.
"I thought I could sacrifice everything for justice…" He gave a humorless laugh. "But now I realize I'm no different from Peter. I just hadn't seen it yet."
As a descendant of the ancient and proud House of Black — masters of the Dark Arts — Sirius knew immediately what Regulus had become.
An Inferius.
A corpse without need for food, hating all living things.
Because they retained their bodies and didn't decay, Inferi were often used by dark wizards as obedient servants — a cleaner, less revolting alternative to zombies.
To Sirius, this grotesque state felt like Voldemort's personal punishment upon the Black family — a curse for his own betrayal.
Even Ron, normally oblivious, understood that now was not the time for jokes or celebration.
He looked at Harry and Draco, silently asking who would explain everything.
Harry took a deep breath. "Sirius… this is what happened. When we came to Kreacher's room today, we found Slytherin's locket."
"I opened it using Parseltongue." He pointed toward the shattered remnants in the corner that looked like bits of melted glass.
For some reason, looking at that pile filled Harry with unease — but Sirius's grief kept him from voicing it.
"Was Regulus trapped in there?" Sirius asked hoarsely. "It fits the way a Black dies, doesn't it?"
He laughed bitterly again.
Slytherin's locket — one of Voldemort's most prized treasures. Sirius remembered seeing it once as a child.
That Voldemort would use something so valuable to imprison Regulus… Sirius could only think of one reason: Bellatrix.
It was said Voldemort had an affair with her.
Was that why his mother had gone mad? Because one son was murdered for the sake of another — his corpse sealed within a family heirloom?
How utterly absurd.
Harry didn't know the storm raging in Sirius's heart, but he could see how broken the man was. His despair seemed even deeper than when he had learned that Scabbers was Peter Pettigrew, and Harry had rejected him out of mistrust.
Harry cleared his throat. "After I destroyed the locket — using the same spell that defeated Voldemort — Kreacher told us what little he remembered. Regulus had been involved."
Sirius's hand twitched, but he remained silent, lost in thought. Lupin gave Harry a small nod, signaling him to go on.
Encouraged, Harry continued, "Kreacher said that Voldemort once borrowed him from Regulus to test a ritual. It almost killed him. But Regulus ordered him to return home afterward — which saved his life."
"After that, Regulus learned what Voldemort was doing — the experiments, the locket's true purpose. He made a copy and went back there with Kreacher."
"Then why didn't he come back?!" Sirius snapped suddenly. "It's this elf! He should've stopped him!"
"Because Regulus chose to," Alexander said quietly. His calm tone contrasted sharply with Sirius's anguish.
Sirius glared at him but said nothing.
Draco interjected, "It wasn't just for the box. He believed it might be tied to Hogwarts' safety."
Harry nodded. "When I destroyed it, I felt the same… almost as if Voldemort himself was there. The locket spoke — like it was alive."
"Have you read The Tales of Beedle the Bard?" Harry asked. "It reminded me of The Warlock's Hairy Heart."
Ron's eyes widened. "Could that be why Voldemort's not dead?"
"It's just a fairy tale," Draco muttered skeptically.
"No," Alexander said softly. "Many of those stories are based on truth. I've seen enough to believe it."
"This locket… it might've contained a fragment of Voldemort's heart — his soul," Harry added grimly.
Sirius clenched his fists, his voice low and dark.
"I don't care about that monster, or his damned magic."
"I only care about my brother. Why Regulus? Why him?"
The room fell into silence. Only the faint crackle of embers in the boiler room broke the stillness.
Sirius Black, once defiant and proud, stood motionless — staring at the cold, lifeless face of the brother he'd only just found again.
And for the first time in years, his eyes filled with tears.
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