A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 201 The Story of RAB

"...When young master Regulus was sixteen, he joined the Dark Lord's organization, and he was very proud to serve the Dark Lord."

"He was so happy to be able to devote himself to the great cause of the Dark Lord, so that wizards would no longer have to hide, but could come out and rule over Muggles and their descendants."

Sirius Black scoffed, "Only an idiot would believe such nonsense."

Kreacher stared intently at him with bloodshot eyes: "Young Master Regulus has pride. He knows what the Black name and his pure bloodline mean, something that unruly brat Sirius will never understand..."

"Then why is he thinking of escaping from his Dark Lord? Is that his pride?" Sirius scoffed.

Kreacher didn't speak, but stared at him with hatred, as if he wanted to pounce on him and bite him.

"Alright, Sirius..." Harry tugged at Sirius's robes, hoping he would listen quietly. At the same time, he couldn't help but think of events from the history of magic, the war ignited by Grindelwald and Voldemort...

He actually thought the wizarding world was pretty good right now and hoped it would continue to be peaceful. However, under Dumbledore's guidance, he read a lot of books about modern magical history and gained a more hazy but heartfelt understanding of history.

Through the subtle influence and edification of his friends, Harry had to admit that the Wizarding Secrets Act had indeed caused a great deal of discontent in modern times, becoming a trigger for many conflicts, and perhaps it really was outdated. But he felt completely lost about how to solve this problem.

He didn't think wizards were any more noble than Muggles, nor did he think it was good for wizards to rule over Muggles; he preferred that wizards and Muggles could coexist peacefully. But this seemingly simple matter turned out to be so complicated that it cast the shadow of two wars over the wizarding world, which made Harry feel inexplicably frustrated.

Harry knew he wasn't suited to thinking about these things; it was better to leave such problems to Owen or Hermione. Harry shook his head, clearing the jumbled thoughts from his mind.

Just then, he heard Owen's voice drift over: "Because Regulus saw through the Dark Lord's ruthless nature. The so-called maintenance of the purity of the wizarding bloodline and making wizards the masters of Muggles is nothing but a slogan shouted by the Dark Lord to seize power."

Owen, resting his chin on his hand, uttered a cold, knowing smile: "He realized that the Dark Lord only cares about himself and will stop at nothing to gain more power and authority, which is why he wants to withdraw..."

Sirius opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he only twitched the corner of his mouth and turned his head away looking somewhat angry.

"Young Master Regulus has no intention of withdrawing!" Kreacher shouted, his withered body swaying slightly as he continued his narration: "A year later, one day, Young Master Regulus came to visit Kreacher. He had always liked Kreacher. Young Master Regulus said... he said... he said the Dark Lord wanted a little elf."

The aged elf swayed even more violently, his face contorted in pain, his ugly features scrunched up: "Young Master Regulus offered Kreacher. He said it was an honor, and Kreacher must do everything the Dark Lord wants him to do..."

"Ah, offering you to Voldemort, he must really like you." Sirius couldn't help but chuckle softly upon hearing this.

Kreacher, ignoring his words, began to sob: "...The Dark Lord took Kreacher to a cave by the sea, where there was a large black lake...and a boat..."

Harry was startled. He remembered the cave Dumbledore had taken him to that day. A boat, a wizard and a victim, an island in the middle of the lake, the infernal corpse in the lake, and that potion that brought extreme pain and thirst…

"The Dark Lord took Kreacher to the island by boat. On the island was a stone... a stone basin filled with potions... The Dark Lord made Kreacher drink them..." The little elf trembled.

As Klee recounted the events in fits and starts, a scene from the past gradually came to light.

The Dark Lord ignored the elf's agonizing cries, forced him to drink the potion from the stone basin, tossed a locket into the empty basin, and then refilled it with more potion. He then boarded his boat and sailed away alone, leaving the elf writhing in agony from the burning potion on the island.

The extremely thirsty sprite crawled to the edge of the island to drink from the black lake. From the bottom of the lake, the undead stretched out deathly pale hands and dragged the sprite into the icy water…

"Then, Kreacher heard that Master Regulus wanted him to go home, so he went home..." Kreacher blew his nose and said in a hoarse voice.

Sirius listened intently and pressed for an answer: "And then?"

"Master Regulus was very worried. He told Kreacher to hide and not to leave the house... After a while, Master Regulus came and found Kreacher, asking him to take him to the cave..." Kreacher suddenly let out a wail.

"Kreacher led Master Regulus to the island in the middle of the lake. Kreacher remembered how to get there..." The little elf gasped for breath, tears streaming from his sunken eyes and running down his long nose. "Master Regulus took out a locket and told Kreacher to hold it and switch the locket with the stone basin once it dried..."

Kreacher wept bitterly, his voice suddenly turning shrill and piercing: "He ordered Kreacher to leave, to ignore him... He told Kreacher to go home and not to tell the mistress what he had done... He made Kreacher destroy... destroy the first locket... and then he drank... drank the potion dry..."

Harry's mouth dropped open; it reminded him of Dumbledore. Dumbledore had drunk the potion for him, and Regulus had chosen to do the same, even though the other was a house-elf.

"No one is a victim," Harry thought, feeling a mix of sadness and warmth. "We are no different."

Sirius paced anxiously, demanding sternly, "Did Regulus drink the potion himself?"

"Yes...yes...Kreacher couldn't disobey Master Regulus's orders...Kreacher switched the locket and watched helplessly as...Master Regulus...was dragged underwater...and then..." Kreacher swayed and knelt on the ground, trembling and sobbing as he curled up into a ball.

"Kreacher failed to carry out the order... Kreacher tried everything, but he couldn't destroy the locket! The mistress is going mad with grief because Master Regulus has disappeared, and Kreacher can't tell her what happened, he can't, because Master Regulus forbade him to tell the mistress..."

The little elf's eyes were red and bloodshot, and it had tears in its eyes. Bright green snot hung from its nose, and it began to mutter some incoherent words.

Harry reluctantly pulled Kreacher to sit up, feeling he should be kinder to the rather unpleasant house-elf from now on. The story of the Rabbids weighed heavily on his mind, his chest feeling like it was stuffed with a wad of water-soaked cotton.

Owen, who already knew the story, merely sighed inwardly before setting the lament aside and beginning to ponder the magic of house-elves. House-elves possessed very special magic, especially their ability to Apparate in places like Hogwarts and Voldemort's cave, which proved quite useful.

If we can figure out the underlying principles, we might be able to create a sprite-like version of the Apparition spell, which could be extremely useful in many situations.

Hmm, another interesting research topic.

"Regulus is a coward! A complete idiot!" Sirius Black shouted suddenly as he paced back and forth, looking like a volcano about to erupt.

Harry stared blankly at Sirius Black, who had suddenly erupted in anger, unsure of how to react.

Kreacher forcefully pulled his hand away from Harry's and shouted in a rough, shrill voice, "Master Regulus is no coward! He is the noblest, bravest, and smartest man Kreacher has ever met!"

"If he were truly brave and intelligent, he wouldn't have let himself die such a pathetic death in a place!" Sirius retorted sharply, his cheeks and neck flushed red.

He gasped for breath, then continued angrily, "He had countless ways to walk out unscathed! He wanted to die!"

Harry opened his mouth. Is that so? He instinctively glanced at Owen, who seemed to be lost in thought.

Owen blinked at him and shrugged slightly. He was more inclined to believe that Regulus had voluntarily chosen death because of a collapse of faith and despair, perhaps also seeking some kind of liberation and atonement. But only the person involved truly knew, and for the living, this question was not important.

Sirius was still venting his emotions: "...It's good that he's dead. That's the end of it all. He's always been the same, retreating into his shell at the slightest setback, leaving behind a mess..."

"Sirius has no right to say that, abandoning his family and running away alone!" Kreacher's bullfrog-like croaking boomed. "Sirius broke the mistress's heart... He's the real scoundrel, the ungrateful coward!"

Sirius Black suddenly froze, staring intently at the house-elf sitting on the ground, looking as if he were about to attack. Just as Harry was about to stop him, Sirius slumped into a chair beside him, looking utterly dejected, his brows furrowed tightly.

The magnificent, spacious living room suddenly fell silent, the crackling of the fireplace clearly audible. Sirius and Kreacher were both panting heavily, like two punctured balloons.

Harry looked left and right, wanting to say something but unsure how. He scratched his head, slowly moved to Sirius's side, and silently leaned against the wall.

Irving glanced at him, deftly toying with a colorful ball in his hand.

It took a while for the person involved to calm down. Kreacher got up from the ground, bowed deeply, his long nose flattened on the thick carpet, and then dragged himself out the door.

"Wait, give me that locket." Sirius's voice was terribly hoarse.

"That belongs to young master Regulus!" Kreacher said, his neck stiff and full of reluctance.

"You said you couldn't destroy it?" Sirius's expression and tone were unexpectedly calm, like a swamp where danger lurked. "I can give it a try."

Kreacher blinked his large, red, bloodshot eyes, bowed deeply again, and walked out with his back hunched.

"Sirius, you..." Harry said cautiously.

"I'm fine, Harry, don't worry about me." Sirius shook his head. He raised his hand to brush the hair from his forehead and gave a wry smile. "I have to thank you, otherwise I probably wouldn't have known this until I died."

"Hmm, that locket..." Harry wondered how to put it.

Ring ring—

A series of ringing doorbell sounds came from downstairs, followed by Mrs. Blake's deafening, shrill screams echoing throughout the house once more: "Disgrace to the family, filthy bastard, get out of my ancestral home!"

"Don't let me find out who it is..." Sirius stood up angrily, rushed out of the living room, and ran downstairs with heavy steps.

Harry shrugged at Owen. "See, that's why Sirius doesn't want to live here. There's always someone bothering him."

"Who would come to visit in the middle of the night?" Owen raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, right, that's right, this time is indeed..." Harry stopped mid-sentence.

He heard the portrait's piercing scream turn into a chilling laugh.

(End of this chapter)