Chapter 12: The Evolution of the Dead

Máximus continued his relentless training, drinking the potion every time the magical bowl refilled. The effect on his being, both physically and mentally, was undeniable. With each dose, he felt his ability to inscribe runes increase, making them more powerful and precise. He wasn't just growing stronger but also mastering the art of that ancient and forgotten magic.

As he experienced the potion's effects on his body, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. What if he gave the potion to one of the Inferi that had been resurrected in the cave? Perhaps, if they too shared the benefits of the potion, they could become more useful, more conscious, more powerful.

Wasting no time, he called Rachel, one of the first Inferi to fully awaken and with whom he had the strongest connection. Though not human, she had remained close to him since the beginning.

"Rachel… come here," he ordered quietly.

Rachel approached without hesitation, her movements stiff and heavy, yet obedient. Máximus observed her for a moment, wondering if he should explain what he was about to do. After all, she wouldn't complain, but the pain she would suffer from drinking the potion might be unbearable for someone who had already died.

"You've seen me take the potion. You know it makes me stronger each time I drink it. Are you willing to do the same?" he asked, knowing deep down that the answer would be yes. However, he wanted to hear those words. Not just for validation but to give Rachel a moment of control over her own fate, even if it was illusory.

"Yes," Rachel responded with difficulty, her voice dry and raspy. However, there was less effort in her response than the first time Máximus had asked her a similar question. It seemed that, little by little, she was regaining more than just obedience.

Máximus didn't hesitate any longer. He took the bowl and brought it to Rachel's parched lips. She drank slowly, and almost instantly, her expression changed. Her face shifted from empty neutrality to a grimace of excruciating pain. Although she didn't make a sound, she opened her mouth as if screaming silently. Her muscles tensed, and her body trembled, but she didn't collapse. She endured the suffering with a resilience that almost surprised Máximus.

"I'm going to continue," he announced, and this time, he saw a spark of fear in Rachel's eyes—a reflection he hadn't seen before. Though she feared what was to come, she didn't resist. Something inside her told her that this was necessary, even if it meant enduring that agonizing pain.

Thus, the cycle repeated for days. Máximus administered doses of the potion to Rachel, carefully monitoring the effects. During the breaks, he watched the cave's entrance cautiously, always on guard. He didn't know when Regulus would arrive, but he had to be prepared at all times.

One day, while preparing another dose for Rachel, something caught his attention. The bowl… something had changed, something he hadn't noticed before.

"The potion…" he murmured to himself, closely examining the vessel. It was almost imperceptible, but each time the bowl took longer to refill, and the amount of potion inside was less than before. It was nearly a finger-width short of liquid.

"What's happening? Is the magic of the cave weakening?" he wondered, as a sense of urgency crept over him. Something in his subconscious told him that was the answer. The magic that kept the bowl full wasn't infinite, and eventually, the potion would stop regenerating. He didn't have much time.

If that resource was limited, he would have to make the most of it for himself and for the Inferi closest to him. Rachel was recovering the fastest. Now, she could not only speak more fluently, but she was also starting to ask questions and hold longer conversations. It was a relief for Máximus to have someone to talk to after so much time in isolation. He decided that, although he would share small doses with the other six main Inferi he had resurrected, his focus would be on Rachel and himself.

He needed someone he could trust, someone to whom he could delegate tasks and who was smarter than the others. He couldn't lead everyone, especially if he intended to leave the cave and command an army of Inferi. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of corpses in the lake, and although the potential to resurrect each one was tempting, it would be a monumental task.

The training continued indefinitely. The effects of the potion were clear: while it restored their mental capacities, it didn't return their memories. The Inferi didn't know who they had been in life, and Máximus considered that a positive thing. They were free from the emotional baggage of their former existences, focused solely on their current purpose.

In talking to them, Máximus discovered something interesting: all of them shared fragments of Voldemort's memories. Though scattered and confusing, some of them recalled spells, others scenes from books they had seen, and some even spoke of dreams they had had. The fragments were disjointed and chaotic, but by sharing them, they were creating a kind of collective knowledge. What one remembered, they passed on to the group, slowly forming a network of magical wisdom that none of them would have possessed individually.

Máximus realized something crucial: none of the Inferi had been wizards in life. They had acquired their magic by consuming fragments of Voldemort's soul. That revelation filled him with a new ambition.

"Does that mean we can acquire magic?" he whispered, his eyes lighting up at the possibility. "Then we can grow stronger… We can seek revenge." The desire for vengeance burned in his chest like a growing flame, though for the moment, he decided to set those feelings aside. There were too many Inferi to help, and his priority remained escaping the cave.

Those who weren't lucid enough would have to be left behind. He couldn't risk being discovered. Those who weren't ready would be a burden. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he heard a distant noise. The cavern, usually engulfed in sepulchral silence, now echoed with a familiar sound. It was a rumbling—the same one he had heard the first time Voldemort entered the cave.

"It's time!" he thought, adrenaline rushing through his body. Before he could do anything else, he turned to the Inferi on the island.

"ALL OF YOU!" he shouted. "Get ready! Submerge and take your positions. Our moment has come."

The Inferi, like a silent tide, began to move into their assigned positions under the water, waiting for the moment to strike. Máximus knew there was no room for mistakes. Regulus was coming.