Professor Flitwick craned his neck, squinting up at the inscription beneath the statue set into the cavern wall.
"Regulus Arcturus Black? I remember—he was Sirius's younger brother. A clever student, as I recall. What a loss…"
Professor Sprout nodded, her eyes misty with memory. "A rather special Slytherin—one of the rare few who could coax pansies to bloom in brilliant colors. Even the Mandrakes never recoiled from him. 'In darkness, he sought the light; in justice, he gave selflessly.'"
(Pansies: Their blooms shift color with a person's emotions and character. It's said that a kind heart brings forth vibrant flowers, while malice leaves them dull and lifeless. Mandrakes: Beyond their usual properties, they're believed to sense good and evil—repelling those with impure souls.)
Professor McGonagall read the words, sorrow flickering across her face. She remembered the old Order of the Phoenix intelligence reports from the war: when news of Regulus's death arrived, Sirius had stormed out to hunt down two Death Eaters, heedless of anyone trying to stop him.
"Albus," she asked softly, "the word we got then was that he was killed by Voldemort, wasn't it? Was it because he discovered one of Voldemort's Horcruxes? Did Sirius ever know? And… what exactly is a Horcrux? It sounds utterly wicked."
Douglas noticed Snape's expression had gone so cold it could have frozen dew—whether from hearing Sirius's name or the Black surname, he couldn't tell.
Snape all but spat his words through clenched teeth. "Horcrux? Albus, how many secrets are you still keeping from me? The Dark Lord's return hinges on Horcruxes—why wasn't I told?"
Though his words were for Dumbledore, his eyes bored into Douglas.
The Heads of House were all masters in their own right, but not everyone knew of such abominations. It was clear that Snape did.
The others caught the implication at once.
"Horcruxes are the key to You-Know-Who's resurrection?"
"But the inscription says he tried to destroy it—so that evil thing is still out there?"
Douglas offered a calm reassurance. "He gave his life to steal Voldemort's Horcrux from this very place. I have it now, and rest assured—it'll be destroyed soon. Actually, this isn't the first Horcrux we've found. Please, trust me—I'm something of a professional when it comes to dealing with them."
Snape frowned, suspicion hardening his voice. "Not the first? Are you saying the Dark Lord made more than one?"
He couldn't help but recall how different the Dark Lord had seemed in recent years—less the prodigy Lucius described, more a fractured shadow. Not in magical power, but in mind and soul.
(For reference: Lucius Malfoy's father, Abraxas Malfoy, had been a classmate of Voldemort's, and one of his earliest supporters.)
Dumbledore didn't answer directly. Instead, he drew a locket from his robes. If not for the vivid crimson phoenix emblazoned on its surface, Douglas might have mistaken it for the infamous Slytherin Locket.
With a flick, Dumbledore opened the locket. A flash of red light—and a series of finely crafted busts floated down, settling gently upon the cavern floor.
Raising his wand, Dumbledore conjured a ring of shallow alcoves around Regulus's statue. One by one, the stone figures drifted into place, each perfectly positioned to be seen by those below.
As the last statue settled, Dumbledore's eyes glistened with tears. A faint, stifled sob echoed in the hush.
Professor McGonagall looked up at the faces above, her own eyes shimmering.
"That's Marlene McKinnon. She and her family… they were all killed."
"Edgar Bones—brother to Amelia Bones, the current Head of Magical Law Enforcement. He, his wife, and children—all murdered by Death Eaters."
"Benjy Fenwick—he was torn apart by Death Eaters. They only ever found parts of him."
"Fabian and Gideon Prewett—Molly's brothers. It took five Death Eaters to bring them down. They fought with such courage… retreating, fighting, retreating, fighting…"
"Caradoc Dearborn—killed by Death Eaters. His body was never found."
"Dorcas Meadowes—Tom killed her himself."
"Frank and Alice Longbottom—Neville's parents. Brave, respected Aurors. Tortured by Death Eaters, forced to give up Voldemort's whereabouts after his fall. They lost their minds, and now live in St Mungo's. If they could see how far Neville has come, they'd be so proud."
"James Potter and Lily Potter…"
Dumbledore's voice was ragged with grief.
Except for Snape, the other Heads of House were openly weeping, choked by the memories.
"I had planned to move their graves here, since some left no family behind—so that the young witches and wizards of Hogwarts might pay their respects.
But in the end, I realized: the soul's legacy endures far longer than any stone or earth."
Douglas produced a small round table from his pocket, then a bottle of wine, pouring a glass for each of them.
Dumbledore raised his glass high.
"My dear friends, today we gather to honor the brave souls who gave their lives fighting against the darkness of Voldemort.
To defend our home, to uphold justice and peace—they flung themselves into the fray without hesitation, composing with their lives a hymn of heroes.
Their courage and resolve inspire us to keep moving forward, to seek a brighter future.
It is our choices, far more than our abilities, that show who we truly are."
Upon the stone, the deeds of these heroes were immortalized—their battles against Death Eaters, their ultimate sacrifice to protect the wizarding world. Their valor was forever carved into the heart of this cavern.
A hush fell, heavy and sacred. It was as if, in that moment, the walls themselves echoed with the distant clamor of battle—heroes and Death Eaters locked forever in struggle.
As Douglas whispered a spell, ancient runes shimmered into being across the vast stone wall, a luminous tribute to the fallen.
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