In his mind, Regulus had always been a firm believer in the family's pure-blood ideology since childhood. Later, he even joined the Death Eaters. Sirius had always assumed his brother died accidentally in some conflict with resistance fighters. He never imagined that Regulus would secretly oppose Voldemort and even attempt to destroy a Horcrux!
"I can't be entirely sure," Dylan blinked, then shook his head. "The note only said he stole the true Horcrux and intended to destroy it, but Horcruxes are extremely difficult to destroy. We can't confirm whether he ultimately succeeded." He paused, looking at Sirius, "So, could you take me to your brother Regulus's room? Maybe we can find some clues."
Sirius, still reeling from the shock, subconsciously nodded and turned toward the second-floor hallway. Dylan followed him, and they soon arrived at a door covered by a dark wooden curtain.
But just as they were about to push the door open, a small figure suddenly darted out and blocked the doorway. It was the House-elf, Kreacher. He wore a gray cloth dress covered in patches, old cloth strips wrapped around his ears, and his face was covered in wrinkles. He was currently glaring viciously at Dylan and Sirius, spitting out a sharp curse: "You filthy Mudblood!"
"And you, you traitorous little whelp!! Neither of you shall step foot into Young Master Regulus's room! This is the cleanest place in the Black family, and Kreacher will not allow it to be defiled by you!"
"Don't bother with him." Sirius's voice was full of disgust. The muscles in his cheek twitched uncontrollably. He stared at Kreacher with a sinister look, his lifted foot slightly bent. He clearly intended to simply kick the obstructive elf away.
But just as his foot was about to land, Dylan reached out and grabbed his wrist, gently pulling his leg back.
"Wait a moment." Dylan's voice was calm. He released Sirius's hand and turned to the tense Kreacher, his gaze fixed plainly on his eyes. He asked deliberately, one word at a time: "I ask you, did your master, Regulus, ever ask you to go destroy something? It was a golden locket, and you ultimately failed to destroy it, didn't you?"
Upon hearing this, Sirius sharply turned to Dylan, his eyes wide with astonishment. He hadn't expected Dylan to suddenly ask such a question, nor that a hidden truth he didn't know about might be lurking behind it.
When Kreacher heard the words "golden locket," his previously fierce eyes instantly froze. He stood stunned as if struck by lightning, his mouth slightly agape, unable to react for a long time. He clearly hadn't expected this stranger, a Mudblood, to know the secret he had buried for so many years!
A few seconds later, Kreacher's body began to tremble violently. His formerly straight back slumped forward, his hands desperately clutching the hem of his clothes. When he finally looked up, his clouded eyes were filled with panic and guilt. His voice was shaky and broken: "Y-yes... it was... it was a locket... Young Master Regulus's locket... Kreacher is useless... Kreacher made a big mistake... couldn't complete the Young Master's command... couldn't destroy it... Kreacher deserves to die! Kreacher deserves to die!"
The words were barely out before Kreacher suddenly rushed toward the corner of the wall as if insane. Leaning there was a blackened poker, its shaft still clinging to some ashes and wood chips. He grabbed the poker, closed his eyes, and violently beat his own arms and legs.
"Thwack" With a sound, the rough wooden stick landed on his skin, instantly leaving a red welt. Next, he dropped the poker, clasped his head in his hands, and desperately began slamming his forehead against the stone wall behind him.
"Dong! Dong! Dong!" The thudding sounds were muffled and harsh. Soon, bright red blood seeped from Kreacher's forehead, running down his wrinkled face and dripping onto the floor, spreading into a small dark red stain. Yet, he seemed oblivious to the pain, continuing to bang his head against the wall, muttering incoherently: "Kreacher is useless... Kreacher failed the Young Master... deserves punishment... deserves punishment..."
Kreacher abruptly curled into a ball, his skinny body shrinking into a tiny huddle. His dusty, damp face was buried deep between his knees, his shoulders shaking back and forth with sobs. His messy gray hair clung to his wrinkled face, making him look pitiful.
When he finally spoke, his voice was muffled by his knees, low and unclear, as if coming from a great distance. "Young Master Sirius ran away long ago... It's better he left."
"He was always a bad boy, constantly hanging out with those Mudbloods and werewolves, doing unconventional things."
"Mistress's heart was nearly broken seeing him like that. She cried every day in front of the ancestral portraits, saying she hadn't raised a good son." When he mentioned "Mistress," Kreacher's body noticeably paused, and his tone held a hint of reverence. The shaking decreased slightly.
"But Young Master Regulus was different. He had his pride. He knew what the name 'Black' meant, and how precious his pure blood was."
"In those years, he often talked to me in the kitchen about the Dark Lord—saying the Dark Lord would lead us wizards out of the shadows, so we wouldn't have to hide from Muggles anymore, and that we could rule those low-born Muggles and their descendants..." Kreacher looked up, a glimmer of yearning in his clouded eyes, as if recalling some glorious past event.
"The year Young Master Regulus turned sixteen, he officially joined the Dark Lord's organization."
"That day, he was wearing a brand-new black robe, the Dark Lord's mark pinned to his chest. He came to the kitchen to show me, his face full of proud smiles. He said he could finally serve the Dark Lord... He was so proud, so happy, thinking it was the most glorious thing."
Dylan blinked. Was this triggering a cinematic cutscene?
"A year later, one afternoon—I was polishing silver, and the kitchen smelled of freshly baked cookies—Young Master Regulus suddenly came in to see me." Kreacher's voice softened considerably, his eyes unfocused, clearly immersed in the memory. "Young Master Regulus always liked me, unlike Young Master Sirius, who only ever kicked and cursed me... That day, Young Master Regulus stood by the stove and said... he said..."
"What exactly did he say?!" Sirius couldn't contain himself anymore. He took a step forward, grabbing Kreacher's shoulders tightly, shaking him forcefully. His eyes were desperate, and his voice trembled. "Tell me! What did Regulus say to you that day?!"
Kreacher was already very old, his skin was loose, and his joints were stiff. He was past the House-elf's natural lifespan limit. Being shaken so violently by Sirius, his face immediately paled, and a fit of violent coughing erupted from his throat.
"Cough... cough cough..." His body shook. He nearly fell over from the floor. His breathing became rapid, and his lips even turned slightly purple.
Dylan, who had been observing from the side, saw Kreacher's ceaseless coughing and his deteriorating complexion, and how he instinctively covered his chest with his hand. He immediately stepped forward, placing a hand on Sirius's arm, and said calmly, "Stop shaking him, Sirius. He can barely breathe."
Kreacher stopped coughing. When he looked up at Dylan, a faint spark of gratitude flashed in his clouded eyes, but it was immediately replaced by intense aversion. He pouted, muttering softly: "Hmph, just a little Mudblood."
Sirius's temper flared up again at the insult. He raised his hand to strike him. Seeing this, Kreacher immediately covered his face with both hands, curling up even tighter. His voice, filled with obvious terror, rushed out:
"I said... I said I'll talk... He said the Dark Lord needed a House-elf."
"Young Master Regulus offered me up."
Kreacher's voice was full of pain, his body shaking more violently. "He said it was an honor, his and mine, and that I had to do everything the Dark Lord asked. Once finished, I could go home."
His shaking grew faster and faster, his breathing became rapid, punctuated by distinct sobs. "Then I went to the Dark Lord. He didn't explain anything. He just took me to a sea cave."
"The cave was huge, pitch-black inside. In the center, there was a large black lake, the water looked so cold..." Kreacher's voice was terribly hoarse, as if soaked by the lake water. "There was a boat by the lake..."
Listening, Dylan turned to Sirius, briefly recounting his experience on the island yesterday. The ghostly green boat, magically reinforced to carry only one person and one "sacrifice," matched Kreacher's description exactly.
Sirius's face instantly darkened. He finally understood how Voldemort tested his Horcrux protection measures: by using the life of a House-elf, whom he considered worthless, to verify the effectiveness of the trap.
"There was a stone basin on the island, filled with potion. The Dark Lord forced me to drink it..." Kreacher's voice was tearful. Although Sirius had never liked Kreacher, he couldn't help but tremble now. It wasn't fear, but rage at Voldemort's brutality.
He struggled to suppress his anger, urging in a low voice: "Keep going! What happened next?"
"I drank it... while drinking, my eyes were filled with terrifying illusions. I saw myself being chased out of the Black house, the Mistress whipping me... Fortunately, those weren't real." Kreacher's body shook violently, as if he was reliving the pain. "But after drinking the potion, Kreacher's insides felt like they were on fire! Kreacher cried out for Young Master Regulus to save Kreacher, cried for Mistress, but the Dark Lord just laughed beside me."
"He forced me to drink all the potion, then threw a locket into the empty stone basin, refilled it with potion, and then he left, leaving me alone on the little island."
At this point, Kreacher couldn't hold back anymore and began to sob loudly, continuing his broken narrative of what happened after Regulus found him.
"Later, later, Young Master Regulus found me... He pulled a locket from his pocket, one that looked exactly like the Dark Lord's." Tears ran down his wrinkled, long nose, dripping onto his dirty cloth dress. "He told me to take this locket. After he drank all the potion in the basin, I was to swap the two lockets."
Kreacher's sobbing grew louder and more piercing. Dylan and Sirius had to concentrate fully to catch his blurred words.
"He commanded me to leave immediately and not mind him. He also made me promise to absolutely not tell the Mistress about this when I got home, but I absolutely had to find a way to destroy the locket I swapped from the Dark Lord."
"Then he picked up the potion in the stone basin and drank it sip by sip... I followed his orders, swapped the lockets, and watched helplessly... watched Young Master Regulus collapse onto the ground. The Inferi in the lake crawled up and dragged him into the water... and then... then I never saw him again..."
Sirius's rage completely erupted. He suddenly kicked a nearby chair, which clattered to the floor. He glared intensely at Kreacher, roaring: "And then what?! Why didn't you save him?! You were right there! Why did you just watch him get dragged into the lake?!"
"Young Master Regulus ordered me to go... He told me to leave and destroy the locket, but I failed... Kreacher is a complete, utter fool! I-I really am!" Kreacher huddled on the ground, clutching his hair, trembling with sobs, his voice full of remorse.
Dylan couldn't listen anymore. He frowned, turned, and abruptly pushed open the door to Regulus's room. In his view, Kreacher had a chance to abandon his cowardice and save his Young Master. He thought Kreacher could have saved Regulus by merely putting up a slight resistance, even if just to delay for a little time. Instead, he truly watched his master die.
Sirius already had little affection for Kreacher, and now his anger was blazing. The killing intent in his eyes was almost palpable. As Dylan closed the door, he heard Kreacher's sharp cry of pain from behind him—Sirius had clearly begun to punish him.
But Dylan didn't spare a thought for Kreacher's fate. His attention was completely focused on the room. The furnishings were simple: a single bed, a desk, and a chest of drawers. Dylan, having dealt with Voldemort's Horcruxes multiple times, was particularly sensitive to their specific evil aura.
He first checked the desk drawers, which only contained old textbooks and notes. Next, he opened the chest of drawers. In a wooden box on the bottom layer, he finally touched a cold metal object.
It was a golden locket.
The cries of agony outside the door gradually subsided. Then came a muffled thump—likely Sirius kicking Kreacher. Following that, Sirius's disgusted cold shout was heard: "Get lost! You idiot! Don't let me see you again!!!"
......................
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