Hogwarts Study Panel

Chapter 515, Section 513: The Cold Gleaming of the Sword

The wind blew through the curtains of the old Blake mansion, and faint moonlight shone through the thick, luxurious, and old curtains.

The room was silent yet restless. Sirius paced around every now and then, clearly impatient but showing no sign of agitation.

He waited for that one with devotion, like the night waiting for the moonlight.

As for Kreacher, who was by his side, he was already used to it.

Days always passed by like this, the weeds in the middle of Grimmauld Place withered in the sunlight, turning brittle and yellow, but his days remained unchanged.

No tenants have been staying at room number 12, and the house has remained undiscovered by the surrounding residents.

The Muggle residents of Grimmauld Place are already used to the ridiculous mistake of number 11 being right next to number 13.

But today is a special day.

Kreacher glanced at his locket every now and then, feeling that he had become much "newer," just like the kitchen downstairs.

Sirius barely recognized the kitchen.

Now everything looks brand new: the copper pots and pans are polished to a rose luster, the wooden tabletops are polished to a shine, the dinner cups and saucers are set out and gleam in the firelight, and a large pot is simmering over the joyful flames.

But the house-elf who strode toward Sheen had changed even more than the house had. He was wrapped in a snow-white towel, and the fur in his ears was as white and fluffy as cotton wool. Regulus's locket bounced on his thin chest.

"Young Master Green!"

Kreacher exclaimed in surprise.

"Dear Mr. Green."

Sirius smiled respectfully.

Directly in front of them, the figure of a young wizard was emerging from the shadows of the stairs.

He had jet-black, bushy hair and bright green eyes that were hard to hide even in the dark. Beside him was a small creature that remained vigilant at all times.

Most remarkably, when the young wizard appeared in the dimly lit room, he was carrying a long, slender sword.
— Sharp and luxurious, with a blood-red gem on the hilt.

"The Gryffindor sword?"

Sirius's expression changed immediately. He was certainly familiar with the sword and the legend, as he himself had been a student of Gryffindor.

"Wizard, you have good taste—"

Butler Pukchi snorted.

"How could this be..."

Sirius simply couldn't understand it. He clearly remembered his god walking among Ravenclaws at Hogwarts, so how could he appear carrying the Gryffindor sword?
Where did he find it?

How could he possibly pull it out?

Hogwarts actually allowed him to appear carrying the Gryffindor sword?
"To destroy a Horcrux, we need some powerful magical artifacts. The Gryffindor sword was made by fairies and can absorb the power of any creature it harms..."

Sheen explained without changing his expression.

"Can……"

Sirius Black got stuck for a moment.

Merlin—which Gryffindor hasn't dreamt of finding the Gryffindor sword?
Which Gryffindor hasn't dreamed of becoming a duelist as outstanding as Gryffindor, traveling the world with a magnificent and powerful sword?
But now it has appeared, in the hands of a Ravenclaw, who doesn't even notice the sensationalism of it, speaking in a flat tone as if stating a fact:
—I needed the power of the Gryffindor sword, and so it appeared and became mine.

“I can…I can touch…I’m sorry, Mr. Green, I was just too excited.”

Sirius quickly realized his lapse in composure and swiftly regained his composure.

"It's ok."

Sheehan said. He was aware of the impact he was having on a real Gryffindor, holding the sword of Gryffindor. It was as if he himself hadn't expected to be able to draw it.

The Sorting Hat always said he possessed the courage that Gryffindor recognized, but Sheen sometimes couldn't understand it...

He was just moving forward.

"Will."

Sheen called out softly.

Butler Pukchi, understanding the unspoken message, took something out of a sealed box, which immediately attracted everyone's attention.

Sirius stared at it with surprise and a hint of panic. He looked at the serpentine "S" made of sparkling emeralds, which easily made him imagine it as a small snake coiled on the cold stone.

Kreacher immediately screamed:

"It's it! It's it! Kreacher couldn't leave a single mark on it!"

The house-elf spoke with that desperate shriek.

"Kreacher tried everything, everything! But none of them worked..."

The box was imbued with so much powerful magic that Kreacher believed it could only be destroyed from the inside, but he couldn't open it...

Kreacher punished himself, tried again, punished himself again, and tried again.

Kreacher failed to carry out the order; he couldn't destroy the locket!

The mistress was driven mad with grief because young Master Regulus had disappeared, and Kreacher couldn't tell her what had happened, couldn't, because young Master Regulus forbade—forbade him to tell his family—his family about the cave…”

Kreacher spoke very quickly, choking up several times.

Even Sirius couldn't stand it anymore:

"You fool! How could you destroy it? If only something like the Gryffindor sword could harm it—where are you going to find the Gryffindor sword?"

"Kreacher cannot be found, Kreacher cannot fulfill Master Regulus's last wish..."

Kreacher was so sad that he let the cold wind blow across his fingers, which were burned by self-punishment, and let the dilapidated streetlights cast a pale light on his face.

“It’s alright, Mr. Kreacher.”

Sheen spoke softly, raising his sword.

In an instant, a gale swept across the land, causing the curtains to billow forward and moonlight to stream in, outlining the silhouette of the dark-haired little wizard.

He stood tall and straight, gripping his sword coldly, his pupils as sharp as a blade.

But the sword remained undecided, as Sheen had just remembered something important.

The locket is covered in powerful magic; simply cutting it apart is a pipe dream. One must…

"Open."

Sheen spoke in a snake-like accent.

So everyone stared at the locket, at the letter "S" inside, imagining a snake, while the contents of the locket rustled like cockroaches in a cage.

Sheen's last word was like a hissing roar, causing the small gold lid of the locket to pop open with a click.

It revealed its internal structure:

It has two small glass windows, behind which is a living eye blinking, black and bright, like Tom Riddle's eyes before they turned red and the pupils became slits.

(End of this chapter)