Dumbledore’s words carried weight, and Harry, at the very least, found himself nodding in agreent.
He could understand Sirius’s urgency to search for Regulus, but he didn’t approve. As everyone knew, Voldemort was cunning to the core and wicked beyond asure. Who could say what unspeakable horrors or dangerous dark curses he might have left in that cave?
Make no mistake—such a thing was entirely within Voldemort’s capabilities.
After hearing Harry voice his concerns, Sirius let out a heavy sigh and sank down beside Kreacher.
"Of course I know the cave is dangerous," Sirius said, his voice heavy, "but I have to do sothing..."
Even when Sirius had believed Regulus was nothing more than a devoted Death Eater blindly following the sociopathic Dark Lord, he had never given up trying to bring his younger brother back to the light. Now, knowing Regulus had been a hero who defied Voldemort, how could Sirius, bound by brotherly love, remain unmoved upon learning the last place Regulus had been seen?
"I still don’t think you should just charge in," Lupin said, settling beside Sirius and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We all know how cunning Voldemort is. Since he discovered Regulus’s betrayal, he wouldn’t have sat idly by. Think about it—how many dark curses has he placed on Grimmauld Place this past year alone? That cave is bound to be worse. I’m certain he’s set a trap, just waiting for you to stumble into it."
"So we’re supposed to just stand by and do nothing?" Sirius snapped, slamming his fist against the bedfra, causing Kreacher to jolt into the air.
"For now, that’s all we can do," Lupin replied with a sigh.
Sirius ran a frustrated hand through his hair, knowing Lupin was right.
To put it bluntly, this wasn’t about rescuing soone—it was about recovering a body. There was no need to rush headlong into danger. If Voldemort had indeed left a trap in the cave, they’d be walking straight into disaster.
"It seems our suspicions were correct," Dumbledore said softly. "Voldemort has indeed been collecting relics of the four founders to create Horcruxes. Besides the Slytherin locket he entrusted to Regulus, he also turned Hufflepuff’s cup into a Horcrux, which was hidden in the Lestrange family vault at Gringotts."
"Did you retrieve it?" Sirius asked, his voice laced with concern.
"We did," Dumbledore replied. "But we’re not in a hurry to destroy it. After all, it’s Helga’s relic. We’re searching for a way to destroy the Horcrux without damaging the vessel."
"That’s quite the challenge," Snape interjected, his tone dripping with cold sarcasm.
"So, I suspect Voldemort may have also acquired Ravenclaw’s diadem and turned it into a Horcrux," Dumbledore continued, his gaze sweeping the room. "But we don’t know where he’s hidden it. It could be entrusted to a loyal Death Eater, or, like the locket, concealed in so secret location."
Sirius pondered for a mont before turning to Kreacher. "Kreacher, besides the locket, did Voldemort give Regulus anything else? I need you to tell everything—don’t hold back."
"Besides the locket, I rember he gave Master Regulus a portrait," Kreacher squeaked. "The portrait was placed under Master Regulus’s bed. Kreacher put it there himself—I don’t know if the Dark Lord took it when he controlled Kreacher."
"A portrait?"
The room fell silent, everyone exchanging puzzled glances.
Voldemort, who cared for no one, had a portrait?
"Let’s take a look," Sirius said after a mont’s thought. "Perhaps that portrait holds so secret—sothing about Voldemort’s hidden truths."
They followed Kreacher upstairs and entered Regulus’s room. Kreacher shuffled to the bed, lifted the silver-and-green bedspread, and rummaged beneath it for so ti before pulling out a small chest.
He placed it on the floor.
"This is it," Kreacher said. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to keep it safe."
Sirius stepped forward to open the chest, but Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him.
"Not so fast, Sirius," Dumbledore cautioned. "I suggest we examine it first."
Dumbledore glanced at Snape, who nodded and stepped forward. With a flick of his wand, Snape cast a spell on the chest. A wisp of black smoke curled upward, and monts later, the chest slowly creaked open.
"Your instincts were right, Dumbledore," Snape said, his lips curling into a sneer. "If Black had opened it himself, we might all be dining on dog-at stew tonight."
Sirius shot Snape a withering glance but said nothing.
"Let’s see whose portrait this is," Harry said, using a spell to carefully lift the portrait from the chest.
The portrait was exquisite, encased in an ornate fra. Harry peered closely and saw a black-haired man in a Slytherin uniform, peacefully asleep within the fra.
"Ominis?"
Harry glanced back at Veratia and Cassandra, startled, but he held back from saying the na aloud.
Dumbledore caught Harry’s expression and imdiately understood.
As a wizard who’d lived over a century, Dumbledore was exceptionally skilled at reading people.
"Perhaps this is a portrait of Ominis Gaunt," Dumbledore confird. "When Harry and I visited the Gaunt family ho, we saw Marvolo Gaunt... Voldemort’s grandfather..."
"Gaunt? Marvolo Gaunt was Voldemort’s grandfather?" Sirius asked, stunned. "You an that Gaunt—the madman? I’ve heard of Morfin Gaunt too. They say the whole family was unhinged..."
"Your family isn’t exactly a shining example either," Lupin muttered under his breath, though the ever-tactful Professor Lupin kept his voice low.
No one could bla friendships for crumbling so easily—not when the wizarding world was all too familiar with Walburga Black’s infamous deeds.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a slight nod. "Voldemort’s mother, rope Gaunt, was Marvolo’s daughter. His middle na, Marvolo, cos from his grandfather. After graduating, Voldemort returned to the Gaunt family ho, murdered his Muggle father and his family, frad his uncle Morfin for the cri, and stole the Gaunt family ring from Morfin’s finger."
"So that’s the connection..." Sirius said, piecing it together. "But why would Voldemort take Ominis Gaunt’s portrait?"
"In terms of lineage, Ominis Gaunt would be Marvolo’s brother," Dumbledore explained. "And you may not know this, but Ominis Gaunt was my senior at Hogwarts, enrolling six years before . He was quite renowned in his ti, particularly for his exceptional skill in charms and dueling, despite being blind."
"No wonder Voldemort took his portrait," Sirius said, realization dawning. "If Ominis Gaunt was that remarkable, it makes sense... But what could he know?"
"Oh, plenty," Dumbledore said with a mysterious twinkle in his eye. "He likely knows so of Voldemort’s secrets—things even Voldemort might not want revealed. Why else would he entrust Regulus with this portrait?"
At that mont, Kreacher mumbled, "You’re wrong, Headmaster Longbeard. Master Regulus was ordered to destroy this portrait, but he defied the Dark Lord’s command..."
"Destroy it?" Harry asked, astonished. "Why would Voldemort want to destroy Ominis Gaunt’s portrait? And... if he wanted it destroyed, wouldn’t he have done it himself?"
"You see, Harry," Sirius said, his brow furrowing, "this might be part of Voldemort’s plan. I’ve always assud the worst of his intentions. Perhaps the dark curse on this chest was ant for Regulus, who knew his secrets and guarded the Slytherin locket. If Regulus had followed Voldemort’s orders, he’d have been struck by the curse. But, by so twist of fate, Voldemort didn’t realize Regulus betrayed him in the cave and assud his death was the result of carrying out his orders."
Ron scratched his head, glancing from Sirius to Hermione. His brain felt like it was overheating. What was all this? How could Voldemort be so devious? By rlin’s fattest underpants, how could anyone be this wicked?
"Is that so?" Dumbledore asked, turning to Snape.
"Undoubtedly," Snape replied coldly. "It fits the Dark Lord’s thods perfectly. He trusts no one."
"If soone lives like that, trusting no one, what’s the point of living?" Sirius said with a sigh.
To everyone’s surprise, Snape’s eyes narrowed at those words.
"Better than so fool with a fat head who trusts everyone," Snape sneered, his voice oily and deliberate. "It’s because of his stupidity, arrogance, and pride that people died who shouldn’t have."
Harry expected Sirius to fire back, but instead, Sirius sat silently on the edge of the bed.
After a long pause, he said hoarsely, "You’re right. Jas and I trusted the wrong person. If we’d seen through that traitor sooner, maybe Harry wouldn’t have lost his parents..."
"That’s fate," Veratia murmured, resting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "Unpredictable fate."
Harry touched Veratia’s hand lightly, his mind not on why Sirius and his father had trusted Peter, but on what traps Voldemort might have left in the cave.
Going to the cave wasn’t urgent. After all these years, Regulus, trapped there, was likely an Inferius by now. And if he was an Inferius, there was no rush to retrieve him—early or late, it made no difference. No spell in the world could bring back an Inferius as Regulus.
Dumbledore didn’t call out Snape, though he knew Snape had leaked the prophecy to Voldemort. If Jas had taken Dumbledore’s advice and let him be the Secret-Keeper, Voldemort could have searched to the ends of the earth and never found the Potters.
A strange thought struck Dumbledore. Why had Jas written to him, asking to borrow the Invisibility Cloak and et in Godric’s Hollow?
Of course, the Invisibility Cloak was a Deathly Hallow, but for wizards of Voldemort’s or Dumbledore’s caliber, it made little difference. Back when Jas and his mischievous friends road Hogwarts under the cloak, causing trouble, Dumbledore could have disciplined them if he’d wanted. But to him, a bit of Gryffindor mischief was harmless, so he’d turned a blind eye to their nightti escapades.
"Let’s ask Mr. Gaunt, then," Lupin said, deftly changing the subject. "Perhaps he knows so of Voldemort’s secrets—like how many Horcruxes he has and what they are. What do you think, Dumbledore?"
"An excellent suggestion," Dumbledore said, tapping the portrait’s fra with his wand.
Ominis, who had been sleeping soundly in the portrait, stirred and opened his bleary eyes. He looked at Dumbledore, then glanced at the world outside the fra.
"It seems I’m out of that chest at last, aren’t I?" Ominis said lightly, stretching his arms with a wide yawn. "You’re not my deranged descendant. Might I know who you are?"
"Albus Dumbledore," Dumbledore replied.
"I’ve heard of you," Ominis said softly. "You’re the one he fears most. Oh, apologies—I’ve been locked away so long, I’m a bit chatty. Allow to introduce myself: Ominis Gaunt."
"I’ve heard of you too, Mr. Gaunt," Dumbledore said. "I started at Hogwarts in 1892, so I suppose I’m your junior."
"I see," Ominis said, a spark of recognition in his voice.
A mont later, he continued, "Tell , Headmaster Dumbledore, have you ever t Harry Potter?"
At the ntion of Harry’s na, the room froze. Everyone turned to Harry, baffled. How could a Hogwarts student from a century ago know him?
--
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