Missing Mrs Black

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Ethan turned his head to see Sirius and Kreacher surrounded by Inferi.

In his attempt to protect Sirius, Kreacher had been knocked to the ground. Now, two of the corpses were clutching his arms, trying to drag him into the lake.

Meanwhile, without Kreacher's protection, Sirius was also trapped. One Inferi viciously bit down on the wrist that held his wand, and with a sharp cry of pain, the wand slipped from his grasp.

Surrounded by the undead, Sirius could hardly move. Two of them, taking the form of children, clung to his legs, gnawing and preventing him from escaping. The rest pushed and shoved, attempting to force him into the lake's dark waters.

Reacting quickly, Ethan pulled out his crossbow and fired at the Inferi gripping Kreacher's legs. His bolts struck true, eliminating the threat and freeing Kreacher. The house-elf sprang to his feet, flames erupting from his hands as he incinerated the corpses besieging Sirius.

Sirius staggered back, dangerously close to the edge of the lake. He spotted his wand on the ground and hastily retrieved it with his uninjured hand. Blood poured from deep gashes in his wrist, dripping onto the ground as he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Damn thing bit to the bone!" Sirius cursed, his voice trembling.

Being swarmed by the undead would haunt him for the rest of his days.

"Heal quickly!" Kreacher hurried over, pressing his hand over Sirius's wound. A green light flashed, and a faint click appeared as bones realigned. When Kreacher removed his hand, Sirius's wrist was nearly healed—the blood had stopped flowing, and new flesh had already begun to grow.

Meanwhile, Ethan swung his sword in a swift arc, cleaving through an Inferi that had tried to attack him from behind. The creature's rotting entrails spilled from its abdomen, releasing a nauseating stench.

With the last of the Inferi dealt with, the lake was finally clear. Voldemort's trap had failed.

It was a clever arrangement—any wizard caught alone would have stood no chance against the relentless horde of Inferi. Weakened by blood loss and the potion's debilitating effects, they would be dragged beneath the water, joining the ranks of the undead.

Even Dumbledore, the greatest white wizard alive, had barely escaped the same fate when facing them.

But Voldemort's arrogance was his undoing. He had let Kreacher go, and Kreacher had brought Dumbledore, Ethan, and Sirius here. Yet even with their combined might, without Ethan's help, Sirius and Kreacher might have fallen to the Inferi, dragged into the depths.

Unfortunately for Voldemort, Ethan—a witcher skilled in close combat—was here. He dispatched the Inferi with ease, his skill and strength turning the tide of battle and rendering Voldemort's plan a failure.

"Found it!" Dumbledore exclaimed suddenly, waving his wand.

Glowing tentacles emerged, gathering and lifting an emaciated corpse from the depths of the lake.

The luminous tendrils floated the body toward the shore, gently laying it on the ground. Sirius rushed over, and upon seeing the corpse, he collapsed to his knees.

Ethan stepped closer, observing the body. It was unmistakably Regulus.

He looked exactly like he did on the tapestry in the Black family home—black, messy hair, thin and small, bearing a strong resemblance to Sirius.

Regulus's skin was pale as paper, and he lay there quietly, his expression peaceful, as if merely asleep.

Sirius stared at his brother's body, words failing him. Kreacher, the house-elf, gazed at Regulus and began to sob, his toad-like voice filled with grief.

Finally, Sirius took a deep breath and stood up.

"Alright, brother," he whispered into Regulus's ear, "I'll take you home."

He gently lifted Regulus, cradling him as if he were afraid to wake him.

Sirius's thoughts drifted back to an afternoon when they were just boys. At ten years old, he had convinced Regulus to sneak out of the house with him. They ventured into the wild and climbed a tree to observe a pack of wild moonbeasts.

On the way down, Sirius slipped and hurt his leg. Regulus, always the more responsible one, had carried him back home, humming quietly. When their mother asked about it later, Regulus lied to protect Sirius, claiming they'd fallen during a fight.

Sirius escaped punishment due to his injury, but Regulus was made to stand all night as punishment.

"We can go back now," Sirius said to Ethan and Dumbledore, his voice hoarse with grief.

Ethan and Dumbledore remained silent, unsure of what to say. Without another word, they all used their Apparation spells to return to the Black home.

As soon as they arrived, Kreacher ran to the portrait of Mrs. Black, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Mistress! Mistress! The young master has brought the young master back!"

But moments later, Kreacher returned, looking bewildered.

"Little Master, Mistress is gone," he said, trembling.

"She's probably off at some gathering again," Sirius replied impatiently, his thoughts still consumed by Regulus. He had little time for his mother's antics.

But Kreacher persisted, his voice quivering. "Something's wrong, Little Master! Can you come and take a look?"

Given how Kreacher had risked his life to protect him in the cave, Sirius couldn't ignore him. He gently laid Regulus's body on a single bed in his room and then walked toward Mrs. Black's portrait.

Ethan and Dumbledore followed, a sense of foreboding gnawing at them.

When they reached the portrait, the reason for Kreacher's panic became clear. Mrs. Black wasn't just gone—the entire portrait was gone. The background, the frame, everything. In its place was a blank, blank canvas devoid of any trace of the original painting.