Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Dumbledore nodded.

"That's what we're here for tonight."

He walked to the lakeside and looked down at the dark water.

Kane stayed by his side.

"We need to find the shadow corpse that Regulus has become."

Dumbledore said, "He's down there, mixed in with the other infernals. Ordinary search spells won't work here; there's Voldemort's interference magic in the water."

Kane thought for a moment. "What if we use a bloodline detection spell? The Infernal is an inanimate object, but it retains its original body and bloodline."

Dumbledore glanced at him. "Possibly. But the Bloodline Detection Charm requires the caster to be very familiar with the target."

"I don't know Regulus," Kane said.

Dumbledore looked at Sirius.

Sirius Black walked over.

"Teach me," he said. "Any spell will do, I'll learn it."

"There's no time to learn," Dumbledore said. "Clear your mind, I'll cast the spell."

He raised his wand, the tip pressed against Sirius's temple.

"I miss him. I miss Regulus. I miss his face, his voice, his magical energy. I miss how you two were together when you were little."

Sirius closed his eyes.

His mind was filled with Regulus.

The image of Regulus chasing after him when he was a child.

The image of Regulus's excitement when he first used magic to levitate a stone.

Regulus bowed his head in front of his mother, not daring to speak.

The day Regulus put on the Dark Mark, as he turned to leave, was the sound of Regulus calling his name.

Sirius.

That was the last time Regulus called him.

Sirius.

Dumbledore's wand lit up.

A beam of silvery-white light shot out from the tip of the staff and onto the lake surface.

The light travels through the water like a snake, swimming past hordes of corpses, past piles of bones, and through the depths of darkness.

Then it stopped.

It stopped at the deepest part of the lake.

A huddled figure.

Wearing the robes of the Black family.

Very small and very thin.

"Found it," Dumbledore said.

Kane raised his wand and pointed it in that spot.

"Regulus Black, fly here."

Golden light shot out from the tip of the staff, like a soft ribbon, wrapping around the figure.

Just a gentle lift.

Regulus's body slowly floated to the surface of the water.

Then it drifted towards the shore.

Sirius caught him.

My younger brother's body is very light, so light that it doesn't seem like that of an adult.

He held Regulus in his arms and knelt on the rocks on the shore.

Regulus's skin was grayish-white and clung tightly to his bones.

The eyes are sunken, and there is only darkness in the eye sockets.

His lips tucked up, revealing his teeth and gums.

The clothes he was wearing were mostly rotten, but they were still recognizable as robes from the Black family.

His hands were dry and withered, his fingers like withered branches.

Sirius hugged him, tears silently streaming down his face.

"Regulus." His voice was very soft, as if afraid of waking him.

"I am coming."

"I'll take you home."

Kreacher lay at Sirius's feet, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Young Master, Kreacher misses you so much!"

Dumbledore stood by the lake, looking at the dark water.

Countless undead corpses were swimming underwater.

A pale figure, a silent wail.

"There are many more here," Dumbledore said. "Their souls are trapped here and can never leave."

He turned to Kane.

"Let's deal with them too."

At the same time, the corpse at the bottom of the lake began to move.

They rose from the bottom of the lake. Countless hands, countless faces, countless empty eye sockets.

They roared—not in human voices, but in a low, guttural wail squeezed from the depths of their throats. The sound echoed through the cave, sending chills down one's spine.

Dumbledore raised his wand. "Gusaiah Flame, heed my command!"

Silvery-white flames erupted from the tip of his staff.

It wasn't just one pillar of fire, but countless pillars.

Each flame, like a silver dragon, surged in different directions, precisely capturing each of the Yin Corpses.

The flames don't burn them, they envelop them.

Silvery-white flames licked the ashen skin of the corpse, and wherever they passed, black magic seeped out of the corpse like ink, then evaporated in the flames.

The undead are screaming.

The fragments of soul trapped within the corpse were released in the flames.

They transformed into silvery-white specks of light, rising from the lake surface, drifting towards the cave's dome, and then dissipating.

But more corpses surged up from the bottom of the lake.

Dumbledore's forehead veins bulged, and his wand began to emit a piercing buzzing sound.

"Kane." His voice was calm, but Kane could hear the pressure in it.

Kane raised his wand, the tip pointing towards the lake.

Magic surged from his body, not in a trickle, but in a torrent.

A silvery-white light emanated from the tip of the staff—not the flames of Dumbledore, but a pure, condensed light, as cool as moonlight.

The light shone into the lake, but instead of exploding or burning, it spread out like a pebble thrown into still water, creating ripples in concentric circles.

With each ripple that spread outwards, the corpses that were touched ceased their struggles.

They no longer roared or moved; they simply floated quietly in the water, as if asleep.

Beads of sweat appeared on Kane's forehead. His magical output continued to rise, and his wand began to emit a deep hum.

The ripples on the lake surface became denser and faster, spreading outwards from the center and covering the entire lake surface.

Dumbledore stared at Kane, his blue eyes filled with shock.

He had never seen a thirteen-year-old child unleash such pure and powerful purification magic.

But there were too many undead.

Their magic was being rapidly depleted.

Dumbledore stepped forward and stood beside Kane. "Let's join forces," he said.

Kane nodded.

Dumbledore raised his wand once more. "Gusaiah Flame, ultimate bloom!"

Kane simultaneously channeled his magic into the flaming flower. His light intertwined with Dumbledore's flames, the silver and pure gold merging into a color never before seen—like the first rays of dawn, like the first star of a winter night.

The flower of flames suddenly exploded.

One after another, the corpses vanished into nothingness.

The black magic evaporated from the water, turning into black mist that rose up and then dissipated in the light of the flame flower.

Sirius stood behind Kane, his mouth agape, unable to speak.

He had seen Dumbledore fight at the Ministry of Magic, seen him duel with Death Eaters, and seen him confront Voldemort.

But he had never seen Dumbledore cast a spell like that before!

And Kane—a thirteen-year-old boy—his magical output made the entire cave tremble.

Kane will be more powerful than Dumbledore and Voldemort!

One after another, the undead disappeared.

The last undead vanished in flames and light.

The lake surface calmed down, becoming crystal clear, like a clean mirror.

Dumbledore put away his wand.

His face was pale, and his hands were trembling slightly, but his blue eyes remained bright.

Kane withdrew his magic, his wand hanging at his side.

His face was even paler than Dumbledore's, his breathing was rapid, and his forehead was covered in sweat.

It's not because this spell consumes a lot of energy, but because there are too many magical restrictions in this place!

Sirius Black supported his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Kane waved his hand. "It's nothing. Just a little tired. Remember, you'll need extra pay!"

"Haha, no problem!"