R.A.B

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Then, in the haze of agony, Sirius saw young Regulus again. This time, his brother's ghost spoke to him, his voice soft yet firm, encouraging him to keep going.

"Master, you have to finish this," Kreacher whispered, his voice trembling as he handed Sirius a cup brimming with the vile potion.

With a shaking hand, Sirius took the cup from Kreacher, his eyes fluttering open. He stared into the green liquid, then, with a deep breath, raised the cup to his lips and drank.

"No one—" Sirius howled, his voice breaking, "I'm sorry, James. I'm not the one…"

The potion's torture drove Sirius to the brink, his words tumbling out in a frantic, disjointed apology to James, Lily, Regulus, and even Peter Pettigrew. His face grew ashen, his complexion paler than the corpses submerged in the lake below.

Dumbledore and Ethan watched with heavy hearts, their expressions grim as they observed Sirius's torment. Though Dumbledore had anticipated Voldemort's cruelty, witnessing the potion's effects was horrifying, deepening his understanding of how ruthless Tom Riddle had become.

Ethan, torn between his instinct to help and the fear of causing further harm, considered using hypnosis to ease Sirius's suffering. But he knew that the potion's effects were as much mental as physical, and any interference could backfire, potentially causing irreversible damage to Sirius's mind. Moreover, this was Sirius's choice, and Ethan respected that, letting him endure the ordeal on his terms.

Sirius continued to drink, each gulp more agonizing than the last. He wailed and pleaded, but with Kreacher's trembling assistance, he finally consumed the entire basin contents.

"You did it, Master! You did it!" Kreacher cried out, a mixture of relief and sorrow in his voice.

"Water…"

Sirius gasped, his breath coming in ragged, desperate bursts. His voice was hoarse, like the rasp of old bellows. His eyes were bloodshot, and his sweat-soaked body made him appear as though he had been doused with water. His chest bore deep, self-inflicted scratches, the result of his frantic attempts to relieve the unimaginable pain.

"Water…" Sirius begged again, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ethan, quick to act, rushed forward and handed Sirius a bottle of water he had prepared in advance. Sirius grabbed the bottle with trembling hands, eager to quench his burning thirst. But as he tilted the bottle to his lips, the water evaporated into a cloud of blue smoke before it could touch his tongue.

The sight of this pushed Sirius to the edge of madness. He roared in frustration, hurling the empty bottle to the ground and shattering it into pieces.

"Give me water!" he screamed, his voice raw and desperate.

Kreacher, watching his master's suffering, broke down in tears, covering his face with his hands. The sight of Sirius in such torment reminded him all too painfully of Regulus.

"There's a spell in this cave," Dumbledore said, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"You can only get water—"

"No," Ethan interrupted, cutting Dumbledore off. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of Swallow Potion, quickly uncorking it and handing it to Sirius.

"Try this."

Without hesitation, Sirius grabbed the bottle and poured the liquid into his mouth. His thirst had driven him to the brink of insanity, and he was beyond questioning what he was drinking—anything would do as long as it wasn't that accursed potion.

Fortunately, Voldemort's twisted enchantments didn't affect the Swallow Potion. As the liquid hit his tongue, Sirius felt momentary relief, the searing thirst finally beginning to subside.

As Sirius consumed the last potion, his complexion began to improve. The ashen blue-grey pallor of his face gradually gave way to a healthier hue, and a faint trace of blood returned to his cheeks. In all his cunning, even Voldemort could not have foreseen a potion from another world aiding Sirius in this dire situation.

The Potion worked its magic, steadily repairing the physical damage wrought by the deadly concoction. Sirius's breathing became less difficult, and the harsh, rasping sound that had accompanied each breath slowly faded away.

"Drink this as well," Ethan said, handing Sirius a bottle of White Honey, a potent detoxifying potion.

Trusting Ethan, Sirius downed the potion without hesitation. The combined effects of the two remedies accelerated his recovery, not only mending his body but also lifting the heavy fog of torment from his mind.

"Oh my God, that feeling…" Sirius murmured as he sat down, still catching his breath.

"Regulus suffered through all of that before he died."

For Sirius, drinking the potion was an act of atonement. He had long been guilty of misunderstanding and neglecting his younger brother, Regulus. These feelings of regret had driven him to endure the same agony. Despite being swayed into Voldemort's ranks, Regulus retained his innate kindness. Once he realized the true nature of Voldemort, he bravely stood against him, sacrificing his life to destroy one of Voldemort's Horcruxes.

With Kreacher's help, Sirius, now significantly recovered, slowly stood and approached the stone basin. He reached in and retrieved the gold locket concealed at the bottom. It was the last relic of his brother, Regulus.

As he examined the locket, Sirius discovered a tiny clasp. Carefully opening it, he found a tightly folded piece of parchment stuffed inside. Curious, he removed the parchment, unfolded it, and began to read.

There was only one sentence written on the paper:

"To the Dark Lord,

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B."

Sirius immediately recognized the handwriting—it was Regulus's. The signature, "R.A.B.," confirmed it as his brother's final act of defiance.

"This brave bastard," Sirius whispered, a bittersweet smile on his lips. As he read the words on the parchment, he felt a surge of pride mixed with sorrow. He quickly wiped away the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes before Dumbledore and Ethan could notice.

But they did notice, their curious gazes fixed on him. Sirius, composing himself, handed the parchment to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's eyes lowered as he read the words. After a moment, he looked up, his expression serious.

"Regulus was always a brave boy," he said softly.

"His righteous heart never wavered."

"When we return, I'll ensure he is honored at Hogwarts. Everyone will know of his bravery and his stand against Voldemort," Dumbledore continued.

"And I'll do the same at the Ministry of Magic," Ethan added.

"I'll make sure Regulus's name is cleared and he's remembered for his courage."

Overwhelmed with gratitude, Sirius bowed his head slightly—a rare gesture of thanks. "Thank you… thank you both," he murmured.

"Now," Sirius said, standing tall and gazing toward the dark, foreboding lake, "it's time to retrieve Regulus's body."