Hyacinth POV
I was sitting in the common room with Neville and Hermione going over our new schedules when my mirror started glowing. I excused myself quickly and slipped into a corner to answer. Dad's grinning face popped up and instantly I felt lighter.
"Hey princess," Dad said, looking far too smug, "the creepy crown is no more. The Goblins burned that foul soul shard out of existence."
Relief flooded me almost instantly and I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. "That's brilliant, Dad! One less nasty thing hanging over us." Then because my mind never stops spinning, I blurted, "Oh! While you're in the middle of things... there's supposed to be an old tome in the Black Library. Practical Runic Wards & Layered Constructs. Could you check if it's there? It might help me stabilize some of Grandpa Nicolas's assignments."
Dad's grin faltered just a little as he said, "That means I'd have to set foot back in that snake pit of a house for more than a quick errand. That library is huge."
I tilted my head and gave him the puppy-dog eyes. "Please, Dad? You said no resource goes to waste, and that library is wasted if it just sits there rotting."
He groaned like I had just asked him to run a marathon barefoot. "Fine, fine, I'll do it for you. But only because you're my favorite daughter."
"I'm your only daughter." I said with a chuckle.
"Exactly." He winked before the mirror dimmed, leaving me laughing quietly.
Sirius POV
If there was one place in the world, I swore I'd never go back to for any real amount of time, it was Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. But here I was, standing on the doorstep of my miserable childhood home, muttering under my breath about cursed daughters who knew exactly how to push my buttons.
The wards recognized me instantly, creaking open the door with a groan like the house itself hated me as much as I hated it. Dust, mildew, and the faint stench of decay hit me full in the face. I was about to curse the place into rubble when a cracked voice croaked, "Master has returned."
I froze. "Bloody hell, Kreacher, can you not pop out of nowhere on me?" I shrieked.
The elf shambled forward, looking like he'd been stewing in resentment and grime for decades. His eyes widened when he saw me but quickly narrowed in suspicion as he grumbled. "Filthy blood traitor returns to defile the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."
"Nice to see you too, Kreacher," I sneered. "Save your poisonous dripple. I'm not here to stay. I'm stripping this place bare and selling it to some Muggle fool. The family shame dies with me."
As I stalked from room to room the house groaned with old magic, as trinkets kept whispering curses from the shelves. It made my skin crawl. I had just started pulling books from the library shelves when something cold and wrong pulsed through the air.
On a pedestal, almost tucked out of sight sat a locket. The sight of it made my stomach twist. "What the..."
Before I could touch it, Kreacher darted forward, clutching it protectively. "NO! Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to destroy it, but Kreacher failed. Kreacher tried, Kreacher failed, so Kreacher kept it safe!"
I rounded on him, fury and confusion mixing in my gut. "Explain yourself, NOW! No muttering, no half-words. Tell me what happened to my brother."
Kreacher trembled, clutching the locket as though it burned him. His cracked voice grew steady as the story poured out. "Master Regulus discovered the Dark Lord's secret. He took Kreacher to a cave by the sea. The cave was full of enchantments, blood to open the door, a black lake full of corpses that were not corpses, and in the center a stone basin of cursed potion. The Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it once. It burned, it twisted Kreacher's mind, made Kreacher beg for water. When Kreacher drank from the lake... the dead rose. Pale hands, dragging Kreacher under. Master Regulus saved Kreacher. He pulled Kreacher back, and he ordered Kreacher home."
The elf's shoulders shook. "He ordered Kreacher to destroy the locket. Kreacher tried. Kreacher burned it, cut it, cursed it, drowned it. Nothing worked. Kreacher failed."
His voice broke completely. "So, Master Regulus went himself. He took Kreacher back to the cave. He made Kreacher swap the lockets, made Kreacher promise again to destroy it. Then... Master Regulus drank the potion instead. The dead came, they dragged him into the water. Kreacher could not save him. Kreacher could only obey."
I stood frozen, my heart hammering in my ears. For the first time, I didn't feel rage at Kreacher. All I felt was grief for the loss of my brother.
"Bloody hell, Reg..." I whispered, sinking into a dust-caked chair. "You stupid, brilliant bastard."
Kreacher whimpered, rocking the locket like both curse and treasure. "Kreacher is sorry."
I forced my hands to steady, pulling a lead-lined case from my bag. "You did right telling me this Kreacher. I'll see it finished."
The locket went into the box, warded with every seal I knew. My next step was clear.
I dropped into one of the dust-choked armchairs and pulled out the mirror. Nicolas's face appeared almost instantly, calm as ever.
"Another fragment?" he asked without preamble, his sharp eyes narrowing when he saw the sealed box in my lap.
"Yeah," I muttered, jaw tight. "Kreacher told me everything. Regulus went into some cursed cave with Inferi in the water and a potion that forces you to drink from the lake filled with them. He swapped the lockets, ordered Kreacher to destroy this one and then he... he drank the potion himself. The Inferi dragged him under." My throat burned, but I forced the words out. "He's not gone, Nicolas, not fully. He's an Inferius, please tell me there's a way back."
The old man leaned back, folding his hands like he was weighing each word he was about to say carefully. "There is... but it is costly. An Inferius still holds the tether of a soul, though it's twisted. To reverse it, you would need three things: the blood of at least two living members of his line, a drop from the Elixir of life. Our perfected version would suffice, perhaps even work better, and a shard of soul from a family member to guide him back."
I swallowed hard. "A shard of soul? You mean..."
"Yes," Nicolas said, eyes glinting. "Not a memory, not an echo, but a real soul."
I sat there, gripping the mirror so hard my knuckles went white. "A shard of a soul? Where the hell am I supposed to find that?" I asked
A sharp voice cut across the room. "You already have it you foolish boy."
I jerked my head up. The portrait in the hall had gone silent during my call, but now my mother's painted eyes burned into me.
"What do you mean?" I snapped at her with my heart pounding in my ears.
My mother's expression twisted, then softened in a way I had never seen before. "You think me a mere imprint? A painted echo of a collected memory?" Her painted hand trembled against the frame. "No, Sirius. I tore my soul and bound a shard into this canvas so I could watch this family. Even if it damned me."
The mirror slipped slightly in my hand as the weight of her words hit me. "You... split your soul, for this?" I said as I waved my hand around.
Her gaze flicked to the box, then back to me. "For Regulus I am willing to let you use my soul as his anchor. I could not save him in life, but I can still give what is left of me. Take my soul, use it and bring him home Sirius." She said her tone full of melancholy.
My breath caught. Of all the things I expected from my hateful mother, sacrifice was never one of them.
"Bloody hell, Mother," I whispered. "You really would."
Her lips curved in a sad, bitter smile and said. "Even monsters love their children, Sirius."
I didn't answer, I couldn't. All I knew was that Regulus, my brother had a chance, and for that... I'd bleed every drop I had.