Hogwarts' Golden Glory

The moonlight shone on the gray stone walls of Azkaban, as if coating the building with a cold, iron-colored skin.

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks came from afar, deep and rhythmic, like something heavy breathing.

Kane stood in the shadows outside the gates of Azkaban.

He was wearing a black travel robe with the collar turned up to cover half his face. Igor was perched on his shoulder, his silver eyes shining like two polished pebbles in the darkness.

Dumbledore stood beside him, his blue eyes half-hidden by his hood, his wand already in his hand.

"She won't open her mouth easily," Kane said.

"I know," Dumbledore's voice was calm, "but you don't need her to speak. You need her to 'want' to speak. I brought a Veritaserum, an improved version. It's colorless and odorless, and it takes effect three times faster than the regular version. The downside is—after using it, the recipient will lose all memory of that period. She'll think she fell asleep naturally."

Kane nodded.

The two walked down the stone steps, their footsteps drowned out by the sound of the waves. The gates of Azkaban were unlocked, as if they knew someone would come.

The door was pushed open with a dull thud, as if it came from underground.

The corridor was narrow, with damp stone walls on both sides. Torches burned in brackets on the walls, their flames flickering in the dampness.

Every door was made of iron, its surface covered with rust, and dark water stains seeped from some of the cracks.

The entire building resembles a ship slowly sinking, with an unpleasant smell of seawater and rust permeating the air.

They walked to the end of the corridor. The third room from the bottom.

Kane stopped in his tracks. "This is it."

Dumbledore stepped forward, placed his palm on the door, closed his eyes as if sensing something, then opened them and lightly tapped the keyhole with his wand.

The lock cylinder clicked, and the door opened, sliding silently outwards.

Bellatrix Lestrange leaned against the wall, half-lying, half-sitting on the floor. Her grey robes were so faded they were unrecognizable, and her disheveled hair obscured most of her face. She seemed oblivious to anyone entering—until Dumbledore lit his wand.

She looked up, her gaze passing through her disheveled hair. She saw Dumbledore first, then Kane.

"...Principal, and you too."

Her voice was hoarse, but her tone was flat, as if she no longer had the strength to be surprised. "Malfoy brat. You've come to keep your promise?"

"But how did you end up with Dumbledore?"

Kane did not respond.

He walked up to her and knelt down. Igor flew off his shoulder and landed on the windowsill next to him.

Bellatrix's gaze was drawn to the phoenix for a moment before returning to Kane's face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I have some questions for you," Kane said.

"I won't say anything."

"I know." Kane pulled a small crystal bottle from his pocket; the liquid inside was transparent and almost invisible in the firelight. "But you will tell."

Bellatrix looked at the bottle, her expression shifting slightly: "...Verbal serum?"

"A modified version," Kane said. "It won't cause you pain. But it will make you tell everything you know."

"You think I'm afraid?" Her voice held a hint of amusement, a cold laugh. "I've taken truth serum before. I survived it."

Kane said, "This is a modified version. You won't make it."

Dumbledore took a step forward and leaned down to look at Bellatrix: "Bella, you've had it before. You know what it feels like—like someone rummaging through your memories, digging up everything you've hidden away and laying it out in the sunlight. If you're willing to speak, you can organize those things and then tell them. If the Truth Serum were to choose for you, it would pick the sharpest one to say first."

Bellatrix looked at Dumbledore but did not answer.

Kane uncorked the crystal bottle, and a faint scent, like a mixture of mint and old book pages, wafted from the opening.

She turned her head to the side, as if to avoid the smell, but Kane's hand was already outstretched. He moved quickly, giving her little time to prepare.

A drop of clear liquid fell into her mouth.

At first, nothing changed. She sat there, her expression still tense, her eyes still wary, as if to tell others, "I'm fine."

Then her shoulders relaxed slightly. It was a very subtle change, like someone had loosened a string on her back by half a turn.

Kane could see her gaze begin to become flat and unfocused, as if she were looking at something far away, or as if she wasn't looking at anything at all. Her lips were slightly parted, not fully closed.

Kane waited three seconds. "Gringotts. Your vault. Where's the key?"

"I!"

The other person's expression was ferocious as they struggled to control themselves from speaking!

Dumbledore took a step forward: "Bella, the key is on you. In your flesh, isn't it? You sewed it into the inside of your arm or leg. You've done similar things before, hiding things in the hardest place on your body."

Bellatrix's expression changed for a fleeting moment, brief but noticeable.

Kane saw it.

"Left arm. Inner side. Right?"

"...Guess," she said.

"I don't need to guess." Kane took a small knife from his pocket, the blade flashing in the firelight.

"Would you like to get it yourself, or should I do it?"

Bellatrix looked at him, as if trying to determine whether he would actually do it.

"That's something my master asked me to keep safe," she finally said. "You can't take it away."

"We can take it," Kane said. "Otherwise, wouldn't we have come for nothing?"

Bellatrix looked at him, her pupils suddenly contracting.

In that instant, her gaze tightened as if pulled back from the depths of a dream.

The truth serum was still working, but something deep inside her was awakening even faster than the drug.

"...You...are too late..."

Her voice began to tremble, not with fear, but with anger—the kind of anger that had been suppressed for too long and finally found an outlet. "Master... has woken up. He already knows you're here."

Kane didn't respond, but simply squatted down in front of her, placing the knife on his knees, blade up, a flash of fire on the surface. Bellatrix stared at the knife, then smiled.

"You won't get the key," she said. "It's in my flesh. You'll have to cut my arm to get it. Do you dare, you Malfoy brat? Have you ever held a knife? Have you ever seen blood? Do you know what it sounds like to cut skin?"

She spoke faster and faster, as if she were using all her strength to speak. "Your father didn't even dare to kill a chicken at first. You're a little stronger than him. But you're just a little wizard. Do you dare?"

"You talk too much."