Farewell

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After Dumbledore finished his eulogy, another sob broke the silence.

The ever-sentimental Professor McGonagall wept once more.

"Poor... poor child," she murmured repeatedly, her voice quivering with sorrow.

Behind her, Amelia Bones sounded her horn-like sniffle again.

"This is just so—" Hermione's eyes glistened with tears. She couldn't even finish her sentence.

"What a tragedy," Amelia Bones said as she stepped forward, her voice thick with emotion.

She walked over to Sirius, who stood apart from the others, his gaze fixed on his brother's velvet-draped body.

"On behalf of Minister Fudge and the Ministry of Magic, I extend my deepest condolences to you, Mr. Black," Amelia said sincerely, her tone formal yet heartfelt.

Sirius nodded politely, acknowledging her words, though his eyes never left Regulus's still form.

One by one, people approached to offer their condolences to Sirius, the last of the Black family. Harry, Ron, and Hermione took turns wrapping him in a comforting embrace.

Then Hagrid stepped forward. With immense strength, he lifted Sirius off the ground in a crushing hug. Harry, standing nearby, winced as he heard the faint crack of Sirius's bones.

With a pale face and a weak smile, Sirius patted Hagrid's shoulder, signaling him to set him down.

"Sirius! You must be heartbroken! Poor Regulus!"

Hagrid said mournfully, though Harry couldn't help but think that Hagrid looked even more devastated than Sirius.

Hagrid's eyes were swollen, nearly shut from his excessive crying. It was a wonder he could see the ground beneath his feet.

Finally, when everyone had expressed their grief, the funeral moved on to its next stage.

Sirius drew his wand and tapped Regulus's velvet-covered body. Slowly, it began to float, suspended in midair.

Regulus looked unusually peaceful, as if merely asleep. Thanks to Dumbledore's magic, all traces of the dark curses Voldemort had inflicted on him were gone.

The coffin, black as night and adorned with simple silver designs, bore the Black family crest engraved on its lid. Sirius's eyes reddened as Regulus's body floated gently into it, and his lips trembled. The weight of finality pressed down on him—closing that coffin would mean saying goodbye to Regulus forever.

"Wait, Sirius," Dumbledore said gently, stepping forward. From his pocket, he drew a locket—the Slytherin locket. It was different from the one Ethan had given him earlier, with a clear, deep crack running through it as if it had been shattered.

Standing nearby, Ethan could sense that the dark magic and fractured soul that once clung to the locket had vanished entirely.

"Dumbledore, is this...?" Sirius looked at him in disbelief.

"This is what Regulus always wanted," Dumbledore whispered.

"To destroy Voldemort's Horcrux."

"You mean—" Sirius stared at Dumbledore, his voice trembling.

"You mean... the Horcrux is destroyed?"

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"I destroyed it a day ago. Regulus's last wish has been fulfilled."

Tears welled up in Sirius's eyes. He could no longer hold back his emotions, and they spilled down his cheeks.

"Thank you, Dumbledore," he choked out.

"I think it's only fitting that we bury this locket with Regulus," Dumbledore said softly.

His voice filled with gratitude, Sirius replied, "Thank you, Dumbledore. Regulus would be happy."

With trembling hands, Sirius took the locket from Dumbledore and gently placed it on Regulus's chest.

Finally, under Sirius's reluctant gaze, the coffin lid closed slowly, sealing away his brother forever.

With a heavy heart, Sirius levitated the coffin, guiding it gently into the pit that had been dug long ago.

Suddenly, a loud croak-like sound echoed behind the gathered mourners, startling everyone—Hagrid included.

All eyes turned to the source of the noise, and they saw a hunched, frail house-elf stumbling toward the grave. Kreacher, the old and oddly shaped elf, was making his way through the crowd.

"Master! Poor Master Regulus!" Kreacher wailed as he reached the grave. Without hesitation, he leaped into the pit, clutching the coffin and sobbing uncontrollably.

Sirius sighed deeply but didn't stop him. Kreacher, more than anyone, had been devoted to Regulus. Kreacher had always cared deeply for Regulus. Regulus, in turn, had treated Kreacher kindly, never seeing him as just a servant.

It was no wonder Kreacher had initially refused to attend the funeral, unable to bear the finality of it. But now, here he was, drawn by some deep bond.

After a long about of tears, Kreacher finally emerged from the grave, trembling and exhausted.

"Kreacher," Sirius said softly, "let's seal Regulus's grave together."

The grief-stricken elf looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. "But Kreacher is just a house-elf! Kreacher mustn't—"

"Regulus never treated you as a servant," Sirius interrupted gently.

"He saw you as family."

Kreacher hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Kreacher is honored," he whispered, his voice shaking.

Sirius and Kreacher raised their hands together—Sirius with his wand and Kreacher with his tiny, trembling fingers. The earth beside the grave began to move, floating up and gently covering the coffin. In a short time, the grave was filled.

The burial followed British tradition. Regulus's head was laid to rest facing east, symbolizing the hope of resurrection with the sunrise.

A black marble tombstone stood at the head of the grave, engraved with golden letters:

"Here lies Regulus Arcturus Black. To those who admire this beauty, pause and thank this brave warrior who remained true to his heart. He fought against evil, even after death."

The funeral ended in solemn silence, and the mourners began to leave one by one. Only Kreacher lingered, clinging to the tombstone and weeping quietly.

Sirius, though still grieving, seemed stronger now. He even began conversing with Harry, ready to face the world again.