Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 515 516: The One Who Cannot Be Tempted

"Stop... stop..."

The voice hissed inside Sean's mind, but the moment he knit his brow in a faint

frown, it vanished, suppressed by his sheer mental discipline.

"I see your heart... it belongs to me..."

The voice returned, weaving through the air like a snake. It circled Sean's

ears, whispering words designed to find a crack in his soul. "I see your dreams.

I see your hunger. And of course... ha-ha... I see your fear..."

"Fear?" Sean paused for a heartbeat, looking mildly puzzled.

"You fear me. You fear your own powerlessness. Admit it... you fear the future

you have foreseen..."

The voice continued its oily chant, but Sean simply focused his mind, and the

illusion shattered. He remained as he always was: calm, steady, his emerald eyes

reflecting a depth of soul that the fragment of Riddle could not penetrate.

Fear of tomorrow? Sean thought. The one thing I don't fear is the future.

"Why...?"

The voice in the locket seemed to ripple with genuine confusion. But, finding no

purchase in Sean, it quickly turned its malice toward Sirius and the others.

"You murdered your brother," it hissed at Sirius. "You let the couple who loved

you as a son lose everything because of your arrogance."

"You killed your master, you miserable thing," it whispered into Kreacher's ear.

"You failed his final wish. You are nothing."

Sirius's breathing became ragged and shallow. Kreacher's eyes rolled back, and

he looked ready to smash his own head against the stone wall.

"And you... you are a disgrace to your kind, Pukwudgie," the voice crooned in

Will's ear. "You are unworthy of your status. You could never be his equal. You

are a tool. A useful pet, nothing more."

"Did Mr. Green say that?" Will the Pukwudgie asked, looking genuinely confused.

"You fool," the voice laughed. "You low-born relative of a goblin... how could

you ever compare to a wizard? He only keeps you because you're convenient..."

"Did Mr. Green say that?" Will repeated, his voice flat.

"Of course! He has always thought so..." the voice sneered.

"I don't believe you," Will said, jutting out his chin stubbornly. "You're the

thick one, wizard. Mr. Green said I am the most intelligent butler in the

world."

The voice in the locket faltered, seemingly stunned that there was a creature in

this world so single-mindedly loyal—or perhaps just so thick-headed—that it

couldn't be manipulated.

Tom Riddle's fragment had failed twice in one night: first, it couldn't

comprehend the young wizard's heart, and second, it had encountered a butler

whose head was apparently made of granite.

At that moment, a flash of silver light cut through the gloom. The Sword of

Gryffindor descended. There was a sharp metallic CLANG, followed by a long,

agonizing shriek that echoed through the rafters.

Sean had pierced the glass windows. Riddle's eyes vanished, and a plume of

thick, acrid smoke erupted from the colorful silk lining of the locket. The

thing that lived within the Horcrux was gone. Its final act of spite had been

the failed attempt to break them.

"Phew..."

Sirius was drenched in sweat. He let out a long, shuddering breath, his eyes

falling on Kreacher, who had been charging toward a wall but had stopped

mid-stride as the curse broke.

"You did it." Sirius looked at the mangled remains of the locket and the fading

black smoke. He felt a wave of relief so profound it was almost physical.

A piece of You-Know-Who had been destroyed. They had won a battle in a war most

people didn't even know had started. If they kept this up...

Sirius's eyes brightened. A seed of hope, long dormant in the dark cells of

Azkaban, finally took root in his heart.

"Master Regulus—!"

Kreacher let out a heart-wrenching wail. He stared at the destroyed locket, his

tears soaking into his filthy rags.

"Why are you so upset?" Sirius asked, his tone confused.

Sean watched them. He knew that Sirius, like many wizards of his generation,

didn't yet understand that house-elves possessed emotions just as complex and

sensitive as those of wizards.

"Mr. Kreacher," Sean said, kneeling down to the elf's level. He pulled a clean

linen handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the elf. He knew Kreacher

wasn't crying from grief, but from the overwhelming weight of a decade's worth

of joy and relief finally being released.

"This belongs to you," Sean said, placing the fragments of the locket into

Kreacher's gnarled hands. "You inherited Mr. Regulus's final wish, and so his

legacy should stay with you."

It took nearly half an hour to calm Kreacher down. He, a lowly elf, had been

given a true heirloom of the House of Black—the very proof of Master Regulus's

heroism.

The elf's knees were so weak with emotion that he could barely stand. When he

finally regained his footing, they accompanied him to his cupboard. They watched

as he tucked the fragments away, wrapping them in a clean corner of his blanket.

He looked at Sean and promised, with a solemnity that was almost frightening,

that he would protect the relic with his life.

The elf bowed so low to Sean that his nose touched the floor, and he even gave

Will the Pukwudgie a clumsy, twitching nod—his version of a respectful salute

between peers.

"Master Regulus... do you see?" Kreacher whispered, his lips trembling. "It was

not in vain. Kreacher has seen it. Someone came... not a man, perhaps an

angel...

"But it is not over. Kreacher must still fight! Fight for my Master, the

defender of house-elves! In the name of the brave Regulus, we shall defy the

Dark Lord! We shall fight!"

Kreacher cast one final, lingering look at the young wizard standing in the

moonlight. He clutched the white handkerchief Sean had given him.

He realized that he wasn't the only one carrying Regulus's legacy. Fate—or

perhaps heaven itself—had been moved by Regulus's sacrifice, and had sent this

boy to finish the work.

To Kreacher, his Master was no longer the ghost of Regulus, nor was it the

fugitive Sirius. It was Green. He would support the "Great Green" forever,

fighting for the courage and faith that Sean and Regulus shared.

"You're leaving already?" Sirius asked, his voice low.

They were back in Sirius's bedroom. It was a spacious room that must have been

magnificent once. It held a large bed with a carved headboard, tall windows

draped in velvet, and a chandelier thick with dust and tallow drippings that

hung like icicles.

"Yes, Mr. Black. Please do not forget the matter we discussed," Sean said as he

prepared to depart.

"I won't forget. Not in a thousand years," Sirius said seriously.

Sean had asked him to begin a discreet search for a woman—or rather, a

Maledictus—he had once heard of: Nagini.

"Then I leave it in your hands."

Sean nodded to Will, and the two of them vanished into the night.

The stars above were exceptionally bright tonight. Hogwarts Castle sat in its

usual, ancient silence. A thick mist had begun to roll in from the Great Lake,

obscuring the moon and blurring the horizon. It was a common occurrence in the

Scottish Highlands, but tonight, it felt heavy with intent.

Down in the cold, dark dungeons, a wizard lay in a modest bed. His face was

pale, his brow knit in a troubled expression. He had slipped once more into the

labyrinth of his own dreams.

The broken and the lonely always find solace in sleep.

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