HP: Redemption of The Platinum Boy

Chapter 75: The Slytherin Locket

In the Headmaster's office, Professor Dumbledore, dressed in a moon-white nightgown, faced Draco Malfoy, who wore his traveling cloak.

"Excuse my bluntness, Draco, but while I look forward to seeing you again, I truly didn't expect you to be quite so efficient. It's been less than twelve hours since we said goodbye, hasn't it?" Dumbledore asked sleepily.

He wore a simple gray flat-topped tasseled cap and a pink bow on his beard—an outfit that made this greatest wizard of the age seem amiable no matter what he said.

"Believe me, sir, I wouldn't have been so rude as to wake you at this hour unless it was an emergency," Draco said, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Can't wait a moment longer?" Dumbledore yawned amiably, without any annoyance at being interrupted from sleep by a student.

"I can't wait," Draco said, his voice tinged with excitement and anticipation.

It was the early hours of morning, and Draco was both exhausted and exhilarated.

He felt he might expire at any moment. No respectable wizard should disturb someone so late at night—he should at least wait until dawn.

But he felt something screaming within his soul. This had completely extinguished his patience.

This matter absolutely couldn't wait until tomorrow, he thought to himself.

Once you have an idea, you can't afford to waste a single second.

"That makes me even more curious. Tell me," Dumbledore said, perking up.

"I think I've probably located a Horcrux," Draco said, composing himself and clenching his fists.

"What did you say? Where?" Those aged eyes suddenly sharpened.

"Before that, I need you to bring Sirius Black here—only he can help with this," Draco said, his brow furrowed.

He'd originally wanted nothing to do with this "wayward son of the Black family," but now he had no choice but to ask him for assistance.

"You're skilled at keeping people in suspense," Dumbledore said, studying him.

Draco remained silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, maintaining his position.

The old man woke Fawkes, who was dozing on his perch, and whispered a few words to him. The phoenix spread his wings and departed from the Headmaster's office like a fiery red wind.

When Sirius, dressed in a hospital gown, was rushed to the Headmaster's office in a wheelchair by Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore was brewing a pot of hot tea.

"Ah! Poppy, you've arrived at the perfect time. Would you like some?"

"No, thank you! I think you'd better give me an explanation!" Her angry voice echoed through the Headmaster's office, a stark contrast to her usual gentle demeanor. "At four in the morning, instead of letting the patient rest, you've made him travel through the cold night air!"

"Oh, Poppy, I presume a professional such as yourself employed a Warming Charm on him," Dumbledore said gently.

"Of course!" Madam Pomfrey said in a softened tone, with a touch of pride. "It's what a qualified Healer should do."

"Thank you, Poppy. I'll give you a reasonable explanation later. But for now, please grant us some privacy," Dumbledore said in an unquestionable tone.

Madam Pomfrey glanced at Draco sitting opposite Dumbledore, observed his severely sleep-deprived face, and hesitated before leaving the Headmaster's office.

Sirius leaned lazily against his wheelchair, one arm in a sling and a wound on the side of his face nearly healed.

His hair was cut shorter, cleaner and neater, and his cheeks looked fuller. Perhaps because he'd just woken, his gaze seemed somewhat vacant.

"What's happened?" He glanced nonchalantly at Draco and Dumbledore, whose faces were serious.

Though his expression showed impatience, this strange combination aroused his suspicions.

"We need your house-elf Kreacher," Draco said slowly, giving him a wary look.

This was the first time Sirius Black had shown surprise all evening.

How could his own unpopular house-elf elicit such eager looks from a Malfoy? He glanced questioningly at Dumbledore behind the desk.

Dumbledore toyed with his wand, briefly met his gaze, and nodded slightly.

"One moment." Sirius stood from his wheelchair, limped several steps, grabbed some Floo powder from Dumbledore's fireplace, and walked straight into the bright green flames.

The Headmaster's office was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the sleepy ticking of the grandfather clock and the sliding of celestial constellation models on the ceiling. A series of bubbling sounds emanated from the cabinet containing the Pensieve.

Dumbledore remained silent, looking thoughtful as he sipped his tea, glancing occasionally at the pale-faced boy sitting across from him.

Draco was also drinking tea. He wasn't looking at Dumbledore but staring intently at a single, upright tea stalk bobbing in his teacup.

As he finished his tea, Sirius emerged from the fireplace, accompanied by Kreacher.

Kreacher was unchanged. Thin, half a person's height, with pale, wrinkled skin like a hog's, bat-like ears filled with white hair, and his filthy, tattered pillowcase utterly unattractive.

He clearly lacked respect for his current master. Though he followed Sirius and appeared subservient, Draco didn't miss the undisguised contempt in his eyes when he occasionally looked up.

Sirius settled back into his wheelchair, looking disgusted. "Right, I've brought him. Stop being so mysterious—just say what you want."

"I need Kreacher to answer several questions for me," Draco said, looking Kreacher up and down.

"That ill-mannered master who keeps people awake in the middle of the night," Kreacher ignored the boy before him and began complaining in a hoarse, bullfrog-like voice, "being with that blood traitor who prefers foreign male wizards and that thieving little git who lives the life of the respected Mistress Cissy—"

"Shut up, and don't curse," Sirius said angrily. "Draco Malfoy has questions for you, and I order you to answer him. Tell the truth, understand?"

"Yes." Kreacher bowed to his knees and muttered. His lips moved silently, undoubtedly uttering some insulting words.

"When you mentioned 'the young master's belongings' at our last meeting, were you referring to young Master Regulus's belongings?" Draco asked.

After a moment's silence, Kreacher straightened and glared at Draco's face with hatred. He replied, "Yes."

"What is it?" Draco asked eagerly.

Kreacher's expression was grim, as if he harbored deep-seated hatred for Draco. He clutched his throat, staring intently at him, refusing to speak.

"Remove your pretentious hand and speak!" Sirius commanded.

"A gold locket," Kreacher said. He couldn't bear it any longer and closed his eyes, as if uttering these words constituted the greatest betrayal of his beloved master.

A locket! Just as I suspected! This is very likely the Slytherin locket! Draco's heart pounded against his ribs.

Dumbledore, who'd been sipping his second cup of hot tea, finally straightened. He set down his teacup, his deep blue eyes fixed on Kreacher through his half-moon spectacles.

"What gold locket?" Sirius finally became interested, his mind filled with questions. "Where did it come from? What was Regulus's connection to it? Kreacher, tell us everything you know about this locket, and everything about Regulus and his connection to it!"

The small elf trembled and began swaying side to side.

Draco could hear repression in its deep voice, which was very clear in the quiet of early morning.

"Young Master Regulus was always very well-mannered. He understood what the Black family name and his own noble pure blood meant. For years, he spoke of the Dark Lord, the one who would make wizards no longer hide but instead rule over Muggles and those of Muggle origin... At sixteen, Young Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord's ranks. He served with such pride, such honor, such happiness... Then one day, a year after he joined, Young Master Regulus came downstairs to the kitchen to see Kreacher. He said the Dark Lord needed a house-elf. The young master always liked Kreacher... Kreacher must do whatever the Dark Lord commands, then return home safely."

Kreacher swayed, his gasps turning to sobs. Sirius frowned and said, "Continue."

"Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord took Kreacher to a cave by the sea. Deep inside the cave was a cavern with a large black lake, a boat, and on an island was a stone basin filled with potion. The Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it." The house-elf trembled from head to toe.

Dumbledore stroked his silver beard, seemingly lost in thought.

"Kreacher drank, and while drinking, Kreacher saw terrible things, and felt like Kreacher's insides were burning. Kreacher drank all the potion, and the Dark Lord placed a locket in the empty basin. He refilled it with more potion. Then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island..." The small elf shuddered, lost in terrible memories.

"Kreacher needed water, so Kreacher crawled to the island's edge and drank from the black lake. Many dead hands reached out from the water and dragged Kreacher under..." Kreacher's expression was one of extreme terror.

"I suspect they were Inferi," Dumbledore said, his brow furrowed deeply. He asked in an almost whispered voice, "How did you escape?"

Kreacher raised his ugly head, staring intently at Dumbledore with bloodshot eyes, muttering something under his breath.

"Answer him!" Sirius commanded.

"Young Master Regulus told Kreacher to return," Kreacher said, drawing out his words, his cloudy eyes blinking uneasily. "The young master told Kreacher to come home, so Kreacher came home."

Draco guessed that struggling to escape from that mountain of corpses and sea of blood to return home must have been a terrifying ordeal.

"What exactly happened after you returned?" Sirius finally abandoned his detachment and stared intently at the elf. "Did you tell Regulus? What did he say?"

"Master Regulus was very worried," Kreacher said in a hoarse, drawn-out voice like an old, rotting bellows. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and never leave. One night, Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard. Master Regulus wanted Kreacher to take him to the cave, the same cave where Kreacher had been with the Dark Lord..."

Draco could roughly imagine the elderly house-elf and eighteen-year-old Regulus trembling as they returned to the cave filled with the aura of death, retracing the route.

The Dark Lord would never have imagined that his supposedly secure cave would be escaped from by the house-elf he looked down upon, and that his secrets, which he thought unknown to anyone, would be completely exposed.

Kreacher knew how to access the hidden entrance to the cave and how to summon the boat. Under Kreacher's loyal guidance, Regulus sailed back to the island where the stone basin filled with poison was located.

But why had Regulus gone to such lengths to reach that cave?

"He made you drink the poison again?" Sirius asked with disgust.

Upon hearing this, Kreacher let out a mournful cry. The old elf shook his head frantically, his large, wrinkled ears making cracking sounds as he swung them, his voice choked with sobs.

"Young Master Regulus took out a locket from his pocket that resembled the Dark Lord's," Kreacher said, tears streaming down his face. "He told Kreacher to take it and swap the lockets once the stone basin was empty..."

The house-elf wailed shrilly, and Draco had to concentrate to discern the words through the cries.

Upon hearing this, he suddenly understood—a realization, a possibility he'd never considered in his previous life.

Regulus had betrayed the Dark Lord.

He'd risked having Kreacher take him back to the cave to retrieve the locket.

He might have sensed something.

He might have guessed something.

He might have known it was a Horcrux.

"Master Regulus also ordered Kreacher to leave without him. He told Kreacher to go home, not to tell Mistress what he'd done, and to destroy the first locket. Master Regulus drank all the potion, Kreacher switched the lockets, and watched as Master Regulus was dragged underwater..." Kreacher said mournfully.

The unsolved mystery of the Black family—how Regulus died and where he was buried—had finally been revealed.

"Oh, Merlin! That fool!" Sirius sighed.

Draco caught a hint of pain in Sirius's tone. He himself was deeply shocked and unable to calm down.

Who would have thought there was such a hidden story behind Regulus Black's death?

There were several theories within the Black family regarding Regulus's death: some believed he'd been secretly executed by the Dark Lord for doing something wrong; others believed he'd wanted to quit and was murdered by Voldemort for refusing orders; still others believed he'd fled or encountered an unforeseen accident...

Regardless, his final fate was certain—death—as the dull gold thread on the Black family tapestry foretold the end of his life.

Who would have thought he'd been willing to die to betray the Dark Lord? Draco remained silent, his mind in turmoil.

Regulus Arcturus Black had, behind everyone's back, done such a tremendous thing, bearing such a dark and heavy secret on shoulders that carried his family's bright expectations, finally falling silently into the cold, desolate lake filled with corpses.

He'd been only eighteen. Just one year older than Draco in his previous life. Merely a newly adult wizard.

What kind of determination had he possessed to do something bound to result in death?

In one of the Headmaster's office portraits, Phineas Nigellus Black, a former Headmaster of Hogwarts, covered his face, large tears streaming between his fingers. His mournful voice echoed through the office. "My poor great-great-grandson..."

"You took the locket home, didn't you?" Dumbledore was the only calm person in the Headmaster's office. He continued questioning Kreacher, determined to reach the truth. "Did you destroy it?"

"Nothing Kreacher does can leave a mark on it," the elf gasped, his voice filled with layers of despair. "Kreacher tried everything, everything, and nothing, nothing works! Many powerful enchantments protect the locket. Kreacher is sure the way to destroy it is from within the locket, but Kreacher couldn't open it. Kreacher failed to carry out orders! Kreacher couldn't destroy it!"

Kreacher's words were filled with tears and anguish, the sound of weeping incessant.

Dumbledore frowned slightly.

Kreacher wept even more bitterly. "Mistress went mad with grief because Master Regulus disappeared, and Kreacher couldn't tell her what happened. Kreacher couldn't! Master Regulus forbade—forbade Kreacher to tell anyone in the family what happened in the cave..."

Suddenly, Kreacher's eyes widened.

"Kreacher is wrong! Kreacher told Master Sirius! Master Sirius was expelled from the Black family long ago—he shouldn't be considered family! But—" Kreacher said fearfully, "Master Sirius is now head of the family, which means—"

The old elf, whose mind had deteriorated, suddenly let out a chilling scream.

"No!" he cried out, struggling. "Master Sirius is still a member of the family! Kreacher disobeyed Master Regulus's orders!"

Kreacher rushed toward the fire iron standing before the fireplace, intending to punish himself for disobeying his master's orders.

Draco had anticipated this move. He swiftly lunged at the house-elf, pinning him down firmly. Kreacher, however, seemed insulted. He wailed and shrieked, muttering silent curses, and struggled even more fiercely.

Draco was utterly disgusted by the small elf—he was so filthy it was unbearable, and his mouth so foul it was appalling.

But Draco had to keep restraining him because the secret he held was too important, far more so than Draco's deep loathing for Kreacher.

Sirius roared, "Kreacher, I command you not to move and not to cry out!" Kreacher stopped moving.

Draco released him and saw him lying forlornly on the cold stone floor, tears streaming from his drooping eyelids.

"Tell me, Kreacher, where is that locket?" Draco asked urgently.

Kreacher ignored Draco and continued sobbing in place.

"Stand up and answer him as he asks!" Sirius said, his eyes reddening.

"It was you! The Malfoy brat! You stole it!" Kreacher jumped up, spat on the carpet, and glared at the platinum-haired boy before him with bloodshot eyes.

All eyes in the room fixed on Draco.