Kreacher held the Slytherin locket in both hands and presented it to Dana. He looked at Dana expectantly, as if desperate to speak—but he hesitated.
Dana smiled and opened his mouth.
Having spent so much time at Hogwarts, Dana's body had become suffused with magic, granting him masterful physical control. He could even transform individual organs at will.
Suddenly, his two canines elongated; scales crept up his lower jaw, reshaping it into a snake's muzzle. Dana took a deep breath, scowled, and bit down hard on the locket.
A soul-piercing scream erupted. Kreacher covered his ears with both hands but kept his gaze fixed on the locket in Dana's grip. Black mist filled the air as oily black water spewed forth. In the face of Basilisk venom, the Horcrux didn't stand a chance.
Dana retracted his fangs. With a casual wave of his wand, the murky, foul-smelling black water hovered, then vanished under a Vanishing Charm.
"Alright, Kreacher—the locket is destroyed."
Wah—
Kreacher instantly dissolved into tears, transforming into a fountain of grief that gushed without restraint.
Dana offered a comforting smile. "Don't cry yet, Kreacher. I imagine you'd love to see Regulus properly laid to rest, right?"
Kreacher froze. His body became utterly still—except for his tear-streaked face.
After a full twenty seconds, he murmured, "Oh... my benevolent, all-knowing Master! Do... do you even know about that?"
Dana gently placed a hand on Kreacher's shoulder. "Take me, Kreacher. Let's bury Regulus in the Black family graveyard. Then I want you to come with me to the Castle in the Hebrides and manage it for me."
"Yes, Master!" Kreacher cried, growing calm but resolute.
They traveled to the cave without hesitation—a shortcut that didn't require the usual blood magic to open the entrance.
Inside lay a large subterranean lake, with a small island at its center.
"Master, you need to pull that chain; then a boat will appear," Kreacher explained, eyes red with emotion.
Dana paused. "The locket is gone. What would I do on that island? You don't need to drink poison just to see your young master."
With a sharp flick of his wand, Dana cast Thunder Explosion. The lake roared as Inferi, pale and skeletal, erupted from its depths.
"Kreacher, find Regulus," he commanded.
"Yes, Master!" Kreacher wiped his tears away.
But the tide of Inferi was overwhelming. How could Kreacher find him?
Dana was ready. He pointed his wand at the shore and the ground cracked—ropes of magical binding shot out, winding around the Inferi's legs. The mindless corpses stumbled and collapsed in heaps.
In the original lore, Dumbledore struggled to subdue Inferi because he'd consumed poison unpacked by Voldemort. Still, even in that weakened state, he managed to burn them. Dana's effortless handling of the horde didn't make him stronger than Dumbledore—it just underscored his own unique talents.
Finally, Kreacher shrieked. Dana looked up: there, at the edge of the dark water, stood Regulus's Inferius—battered, expressionless, but standing.
"That's Regulus, isn't it, Kreacher?"
"Yes!"
Dana pointed his wand upward. "Ollivanders."
The Inferius shot into the air, slamming against the cavern ceiling.
Dana inhaled deeply. His lower face was now entirely covered in black scales. Then, with a fearsome roar, he unleashed scorching dragon's breath. The assembled Inferi incinerated instantly, turning to dust. Their cries of terror echoed as they dissolved midair.
Kreacher's tears cut through the cave's gloom. His new master was unbelievably powerful—if only young Regulus had had this strength.
When the cave fell silent, Dana gently lowered Regulus's Inferius.
The figure bore a striking resemblance to Sirius Black. Its clothes were tattered, its hair gone. Regulus bared his teeth, still snarling at the living.
"Oh, young master Regulus," Kreacher whispered, overwhelmed.
"Master, what shall we do now?" Kreacher asked.
Inferi are soulless—they're bodies animated by dark magic. Fire destroys them, but Dana wanted Regulus's body preserved.
"Let's return to the surface," Dana said. "We'll line his coffin with Mantle of Turin metal plates. That'll isolate the magic and let his spirit rest in peace."
"Mantle of Turin? That's expensive!"
Dana shrugged. "It's a small price. Heroes shouldn't be forgotten. Regulus has been trapped here too long. It's time he came home."
Meanwhile, Gilderoy Lockhart stood before his mirror in flamboyant purple starlight pajamas, polishing his teeth with an air of pride. A cat owl flapped in through the window. He set aside his tools and hurried to take the letter.
"Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart— Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry cordially invites you to be their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor next year. Please reply if interested. Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore, Principal."
"A prestigious offer—just the boost I need," Lockhart mused, placing the letter down.
Returning to the mirror, he paused. "But that post is cursed—no professor finishes the year. Perhaps I should decline."
He nodded to himself—after all, he prided himself on living simply, the quintessential Muggle-like lifestyle. Writing by hand was embarrassing; even Rita Skeeter had enchanted quills!
Another cat owl entered. Lockhart paused—a love letter, perhaps? He frowned. Fans should write to his studio, not here.
He accepted the letter. To his surprise, it came from Lucius Malfoy, head of the Malfoy family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
"Mr. Lockhart: On behalf of Count Pessac, Dak de Dentis, I cordially invite you to a banquet at his Castle on Colonsay Island in the Hebrides on July 1st. Many senior British Wizarding figures and Ministry officials will attend. Please be punctual. Sincerely, Lucius Malfoy."
Lockhart beamed—this was even better than teaching at Hogwarts. Rub elbows with a wizarding magnate and high-ranking Ministry officials? A golden opportunity!
He clinched his fist with determination. He must attend.
End of Chapter 59
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