"Professor Dumbledore, can a soul really be trapped inside a body?" Adam asked, standing beside Dumbledore and seeing the same cruel, unnatural sight.
Inside the lifeless, pale body was another "form," a contorted mass of raw spiritual essence. The surface of the soul was covered in web-like, cracked fissures, from which a black-and-grey light oozed. It was as if the soul had been pierced by thousands of black needles, only to be painfully stitched back together with black thread.
As the soul began to disintegrate, the edges of its spirit-form crumbled, turning into countless tiny black specks, each one carrying a heart-wrenching scream. These agitated specks violently slammed against the inside of the body, leaving charred marks in the air and threatening to break free.
But just as they were about to succeed, an invisible shackle suddenly tightened, forcing the specks to re-form and coalesce. The cycle repeated endlessly—the soul would disintegrate and reassemble, each shattering like a grinding of the soul's fragments into dust, and each re-composition bringing with it the tearing agony of a spirit being ripped apart.
"Professor…" Adam's voice was hoarse, a mere whisper as he asked again.
Dumbledore silently gazed at the shattered remains of the man's soul, his posture as steady and wise as ever. But his deep blue eyes were trembling, a flicker of pain betraying his calm exterior.
Fawkes, the phoenix, landed beside Regulus and began to sing a mournful elegy. Its brilliant golden-red wings seemed to dim, and a single, crystalline tear rolled from its eye. The Phoenix tear, a symbol of rebirth and immortality, dripped onto Regulus's forehead. The gloomy aura clinging to the body began to fade at a visible rate.
The fragmented soul finally stopped its painful wailing, but it still couldn't break through the invisible chains. The corrosive black light covered the body like countless shackles, holding it prisoner.
Dumbledore gestured to Adam, who told the Black Knight to bring the stone basin from the middle of the lake. Slowly, Dumbledore poured out the potion from the basin, then used a special vessel to scoop up some of the eerie black lake water. With a grave expression, he mixed the two in a transparent container. He leaned over, his crooked, hooked nose nearly touching the container as he stared at the swirling liquid within. He let out a heavy sigh.
"Voldemort used a spell to transform the malice from murder into a physical substance. To retrieve the locket hidden at the bottom of the basin, you must drink this liquid—this solidified hatred and evil."
He paused, and with a gentle flick of his wand, the spectral liquid in the container trembled. "The drinker will be plagued by an unbearable thirst, a never-ending need to quench it," he said.
"But if they drink the lake water from the cave, the two powers will combine into something else entirely—the very potion used to create a Horcrux."
"Even if someone were to escape the cave by chance, their soul would be torn apart by pain at every waking moment. And after death, it would be forever imprisoned inside their body, with no chance of escape."
Shirley wiped the tears from her face, her fingers digging bloody marks into her palm. Her small shoulders shook as she sobbed, "Professor Dumbledore, you must have a way… right?"
Dumbledore slowly turned his head. After a long pause, he sighed heavily again, his voice filled with unbearable grief.
"This is Voldemort's most evil creation. Anyone who tries to save this fragmented Horcrux, even just by touching it, will only watch helplessly as the soul inside is shattered by the pain."
"If Regulus had managed to get out of the cave back then, perhaps Fawkes could have helped him. But he has been submerged in that lake for eleven long years..."
Kreacher cried out with a high-pitched wail, repeatedly banging his head on the ground, begging Dumbledore for help. The black rock beneath him was stained with red blood.
Everyone was consumed by grief. Adam's eyes were vacant, fixed on the pale body. The huddled soul was tightly wrapped in a black-and-grey light, and with each disintegration, it experienced another round of the endless cycle of tearing pain.
"Is there really no other way?" Adam asked Dumbledore again, his voice trembling. He was met with silence.
His nose stung, and an unexplainable feeling of stuffiness rose in his chest. He looked at Regulus's body with a sense of fierce determination, and when he saw the indentation on the finger, a sudden realization dawned on him.
Adam walked slowly to the young witch, gently tousling her hair. "Shirley, can you trust me? I told you I wanted to bring him home."
Tears streamed down the young witch's face as she looked up. She took a faded piece of ribbon from her sleeve and handed it to Adam. He pulled a silvery-white ring from his pocket and wrapped one end of the ribbon around it. Then, Adam knelt before the man's pale body and took a deep, steady breath.
He held his breath and carefully placed the ring in Regulus's palm. Dumbledore and Tina couldn't bear to watch, but instead of the horrifying wails they expected, there was only a deathly silence.
Just as everyone lowered their heads in disappointment, Adam took out a glistening, clear horn and placed it in Shirley's hand, gently encouraging her to place it on the body.
This was a theory Adam had developed after several conversations with Helena. If the ring's power wasn't enough to get her to the Otherworld, could the addition of another power be enough to break through the final, hazy barrier? The only problem was that she was a ghost trapped in the mortal world, unable to touch any physical objects except for divine artifacts.
The horn, refracting a weak light, glowed with a silvery moonlight. With a trembling but resolute movement, Shirley gently placed the horn in the pale man's palm.
In the next moment, the silvery ring face erupted in a brilliant white light. Threads of white mist spread from the horn, gradually outlining a hazy, ethereal shadow. The moment the unicorn's phantom appeared, everything around them seemed to be bathed in moonlight. It affectionately nudged Shirley's shoulder, then turned and charged toward the pale body.
The horn and the black-and-grey light wrapped around the soul collided violently, releasing a dazzling flash. The black-and-grey light, filled with a deep malice, fought back, causing the unicorn to let out a pained cry.
Just then, a phantom of a silvery-white phoenix appeared. Dumbledore raised his wand and whispered, "Expecto Patronum!"
Under the combined pressure of the unicorn and the phoenix, the black-and-grey light gradually vanished, though hundreds of thousands of anguished screams could still be faintly heard.
The moment the black light disappeared, the faded ribbon caught fire, and the raging flames spread to the entire pale body. Amidst the swirling fire, the man's tightly furrowed brow seemed to slowly relax.
Shirley watched the scene, tears silently streaming down her cheeks, unable to make a sound. At that moment, the unicorn let out a soft whinny and leaped into the fire. A cold sea breeze suddenly blew into the cave. The fire flickered gently in the wind and gathered in front of Shirley. The warm glow illuminated her grieving face, as if a lost loved one was giving her one last hug with their final warmth.
---
The tide ebbed and flowed in the distance, and the shimmering sea reflected the shifting sunset. The sea breeze ruffled the hair on Adam's forehead, and a flying bird streaked across the sky, shaking water droplets from its wings onto the sand. A woman with wine-red hair and a man with black hair stood tightly embracing on a tall, black rock. The golden-red light of the sunset outlined their figures. They seemed to sense something and both looked down at the boy on the beach, waving at him with all their might.
This time, what reached Adam's ears was no longer a broken murmur or a pained cry, but a clear, distinct call, carried on the warm sea breeze and the golden glow of the sun.
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