Sirius let out a heavy sigh. "No, he wasn't killed by Aurors. He was murdered by Voldemort—or, more likely, on Voldemort's orders. Honestly, I doubt Regulus was important enough for Voldemort to bother with himself. From what I pieced together after he died, Regulus was in deep. He was terrified by what they expected of him, desperate to get out… Ridiculous, really. He thought he could just hand in a resignation letter to Voldemort. Ha! It's either serve him for life or die. There's no in-between."
Lupin added quietly, "I remember hearing some of this back then, too. Douglas, what exactly are you looking for? There's no record of the Dark Lord ever giving Regulus anything special. Even if he had, after Regulus died, Voldemort would have taken it back, wouldn't he?"
Sirius frowned. "What is it, Doug? You've never mentioned any of this to me. Where'd you hear about it?"
Suspended in midair, Kreacher clamped both hands over his mouth. He still wasn't sure if Douglas was talking about that thing. The Dark Lord had never gifted Master Regulus anything—but Regulus had, in fact, stolen something from him.
And only Kreacher knew the truth…
Douglas shook his head. "I need to speak with Kreacher alone."
He beckoned, and Kreacher floated helplessly toward him as Douglas pushed open the door to Regulus's room.
Compared to Sirius's bedroom, Regulus's was smaller, but the décor was its polar opposite. Where Sirius had tried to rebel against everything his family stood for, Regulus had embraced it. Slytherin silver and green adorned the bed, walls, and drapes. The Black family crest and their motto—Toujours Pur—were painted above the headboard with meticulous care. Beneath it, a collage of yellowed newspaper clippings formed a jagged mural—all of them about Voldemort.
Once both had entered, the door slammed shut behind them, neatly cutting off the others. Sirius, who had been about to follow, nearly smacked his nose on the closed door.
Kreacher still floated, rigid and terrified, staring at Douglas. He had no idea what this wizard wanted, or how much he truly knew. That secret should have been his alone—yet this man seemed to have come for it specifically.
But Douglas said nothing at first. Instead, he pulled a magical device from his pocket—a radar of sorts. After a few quick adjustments, he pressed its antennae against the wall. Instantly, the device projected a glowing outline of the house, with a single red dot blinking steadily in a room on the second floor.
Douglas spoke slowly, "From the moment I stepped into this house, my magical tracker has been burning hot. It's been signaling that something I've been searching for is here.
I've never seen it with my own eyes, but I know where it came from, and who made it. Don't look at me like that.
Voldemort didn't just make one of these. I've already destroyed two myself. That's why I built this magical tracker—to locate objects like this, as long as I'm within range.
I don't know why it's hidden here in the Black family's ancestral home. Maybe Voldemort trusted Regulus too much, handed it over to him.
But now Voldemort's gone, and Regulus is dead. So, will you give it to me? I know exactly where it is—I could fetch it myself.
But I'd rather you, Kreacher, the Black family's most loyal house-elf, hand it over to me yourself."
If Douglas hadn't needed Kreacher to lead him to the cave, he wouldn't have bothered with all this talk. After all, age brings cunning—and house-elves are no exception. Otherwise, Kreacher wouldn't have later twisted Sirius's words and betrayed Harry and Sirius's whereabouts to Voldemort.
Kreacher's eyes filled with emotion. "I don't know how you know this, sir, but Kreacher wants to help Master Regulus. Kreacher failed to carry out his orders. Kreacher couldn't do what Master Regulus asked…"
He began thrashing his head, desperate to punish himself, but the spell kept him immobilized. After a moment, he gave up, letting his head droop as he muttered,
"It's a locket. Master Regulus's locket… Can you really destroy it? Kreacher's tried everything—every spell, every method. Not a scratch. Kreacher tried and tried, but nothing worked…
There's powerful magic on it, sir. Kreacher believes it can only be destroyed from the inside, but Kreacher can't open it. Kreacher punished himself and tried again, punished himself and tried again, but Kreacher couldn't fulfill Master Regulus's command. Kreacher couldn't destroy the locket.
Mistress went mad with grief when Master Regulus disappeared. Kreacher couldn't tell her what happened—couldn't, because Master Regulus forbade Kreacher from telling the family about the cave."
Douglas gave a gentle, understanding smile. "Yes, yes—you did nothing wrong. But I'm not a member of the Black family, am I? That means I can help you…"
Kreacher looked at Douglas with a storm of emotions—distrust, confusion, and a fear that he might actually believe this Mudblood and ask for help. The Black family's teaching forbade it…
Douglas pressed on, "You don't have to trust me. I told you, I could simply take it myself. But then you'd punish yourself for losing Regulus's final request. You'd drive yourself mad, and the Black family would never forgive you. You'd bring shame to Regulus, and the world would never know he was a hero… Old friend—er, old Kreacher, you have to believe me. I'm here to help you—and to help Regulus fulfill his last wish."
Kreacher stared at him in shock. "You… how do you know that was Master Regulus's final request? How do you know he died because of the locket? Who are you? How do you know all this?"
Douglas gave a helpless shrug. "Didn't you just say so yourself? Regulus disappeared. He told you not to tell the family. And you mentioned the cave."
Kreacher lowered his head, face heavy with defeat. He didn't know why he'd spilled all of this to a Mudblood. He'd rather confide in Harry Potter—at least he'd truly defeated the Dark Lord…
After a long silence, Kreacher looked up, bloodshot eyes fixed on Douglas—a reaction Douglas found oddly unsettling.
If house-elves weren't so sensitive to certain magic, Douglas would have been tempted to use Legilimency just to see what was going on inside that stubborn head.
Kreacher muttered, head down, "Mud… this gentleman wants Kreacher to fetch Master Regulus's locket, but he won't lift the magic he put on Kreacher. Kreacher doesn't know if a man like this can really open the locket… or destroy it…"
Now it was Douglas's turn to feel awkward. He'd been waiting for Kreacher to fetch the locket—completely forgetting he'd immobilized the poor elf with a spell.
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