The ring rolled out from beneath the cupboard.

Dumbledore watched it closely, recognising it as one of the items he’d longed to hold in his hands – a ring rumoured to hold the power to summon loved ones back from death.

Of course, having read Scarlet’s detailed proposal, he now understood the truth: the stone didn’t truly bring loved ones back to life. Rather, it dragged souls that were meant to rest in peace back to a world where they no longer belonged. It didn’t resurrect them; it conjured only a shadow, a ghost, an existence as real as a dream and as insidious as the Mirror of Erised.

He knew all of this. He was well aware. But as his gaze fell upon the stone set in the ring, he found himself unable to look away...

A sharp, hurried flap echoed through the ruins, and suddenly, his line of sight was blocked by a red circle on a white background. It’s a paper fan, delicately crafted, with folds extending to thin wooden sticks joined at one end. Meiko held in aloft, directly in front of his eyes.

“Be mindful, wizard; you were nearly ensnared,” she said, looking at him with unmistakable disapproval. She kept her fan raised. “I’ll withdraw it slowly, and I suggest you hold yourself steady – or I’ll have to act.”

Dumbledore nodded, his expression sombre. Though he believed himself steeled for this encounter, the pull was more insidious than anticipated. What a dangerous dark enchantment Voldemort had left upon this ring.

“O Great Guardian of the Shadowy Land, Queen who mark the boundary between life and death, your humble follower summons your guidance, as a fractured soul seeks to cowardly escape the call of death --”

Meiko gradually lowered her fan, and the air shifted as Scarlet began to chant. Her voice summoned a presence both commanding and gentle. Dumbledore, listening, found himself entranced by the chant’s simple elegance, as though it were an appeal to a beloved elder.

Slowly, he sensed a divine gaze - fleetingly lingering upon him before turning to Her follower.

“-- In the name of Scáthach, let the fragment of this soul, destined for death, now perish! Gáe Scáil!”

Scarlet struck the ring with her spear, its tip glowing faintly as it drove into the stone, shattering the ring into pieces. As with the diadem, a thin stream of blood-red liquid seeped from it, and a wisp of dark smoke with glaring eyes evaporated into the air, along with the soft weight of the deity’s gaze. This time, Scarlet clearly heard a faint scream as the soul fragment vanished.

The lure had held Dumbledore captive dissipated the moment Scarlet destroyed the ring, though he could still sense remnants of dark magic clinging to the broken pieces. Meiko confirmed his suspicions.

“Milady, I believe the harmful magic is still lingering, yes?”

“Indeed, because I can’t remove it,” Scarlet replied with a shrug. “Remember? My magic deals with death and souls, not healing and purification.”

“And if I weren’t here, what would you do then?”

“Wrap it up and hand it to Professor Dumbledore, or let our dear Headmaster collect it himself if he prefers,” Scarlet said, pulling out a cloth embroidered with a pentacle – the same one she used to wrap the remnants of the diadem before sending it to Dumbledore. “See? I came prepared.”

“Better,” Meiko huffed, eyeing the remnants that radiated an unpleasant aura. “Shall I chase away the darkness with the power of the Sun?”

Scarlet looked to the old wizard. “Professor, would you like to keep it for study? Or should we clear away any dark magic on it here? It’s your call.”

Dumbledore considered for a moment before sighing. “If you wouldn’t mind passing me that embroidered cloth, Scarlet. A good suggestion; I may need to study it further before removing the dark magic entirely. Apart from the Horcruxes, we don’t know what traps he might have set with his twisted ingenuity.”

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Scarlet watched as the old wizard used a swift flick of his wand to collect all the remnants. He wrapped them carefully in the cloth before tucking it into his pocket.

They stepped out of the ruins and into the sunlight; it was still early, as they’d only spent about half an hour inside.

Just as Dumbledore prepared to Apparate with his two companions, Scarlet tugged at his sleeve, looking up with pleading eyes and making a bold suggestion. “Professor, since you’re here and it’s still early, why don’t we head to Mr. Black’s house and find the house-elf?”

Dumbledore paused in surprise as Scarlet continued, “It would only take a little time for me destroy the locket. And if we still have time, we could even check the hidden cave to get a sense of the situation, so I can better plan for when I deal with the Inferi.”

This hadn’t been in the original proposal; she’d planned to reach out to Black or Harry by owl first before visiting Grimmauld Place, then make a proper visit to request the house-elf's help. Still, Dumbledore didn’t find the idea of visiting the House of Black inappropriate, especially since this trip had ended sooner than expected. He’d assumed they spend most of the day here, searching for and destroying the ring.

He nodded, “An unexpectedly practical suggestion, Scarlet. Very well, hold on tightly now.”

With a soft “pop”, the three of them landed in a shady, gloomy, and old-fashioned street.

Scarlet patted her chest to ease the feeling of nausea, glancing around with a frown. Meiko, too, wore a similar expression.

Dumbledore looked at them curiously. “Is there anything this old man can help with? You both look...unsettled.”

“It’s nothing,” Scarlet replied, “just...the Feng Shui of this place feels wrong. Living here would be a struggle, or at the very least, one might feel dissatisfied with life.” She hesitated, glancing around. “But I haven’t studied Feng Shui deeply, and East Asian principles might not entirely apply here, so it’s just an impression, Professor. Don’t take it too seriously.”

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully but said nothing more, leading the way to No. 11...where Scarlet noticed that No. 12 was missing, the numbers skipped directly to No. 13.

Just as Scarlet grew curious, No. 12 began to reveal itself, pushing No. 11 and No. 13 aside to make room.

The door of No. 12 was a heavy, black, unpolished wood with a silver serpent-shaped knocker. Dumbledore took it and knocked.

The door soon opened, and Sirius Black stood there, looking surprised. “Dumbledore! And Scarlet! Good morning. Harry’s not here, but come in.”

“He’s with his aunt for the summer break, isn’t he?” Scarlet said, following Dumbledore into the house. “How’s he doing?”

“Not thrilled, but he’s managing.” Black replied, closing the door and leading them to the living room. Though the room still had an old and dusty feel, it was in better shape than Scarlet had expected.

“Have you met his aunt and uncle and had that discussion, as I suggested?” Scarlet asked, settling down.

“Oh, yes, indeed!” Black grinned, “Thanks to William, they’ll treat him nicely - if they still want my money, that is. But what brings you here? And why are you with Dumbledore...and your Head Housekeeper?”

Dumbledore replied with an amused tone, “Today, I’m but an observer – here to witness and recover that remains. Scarlet is the one leading this venture.”

“And I’m here to make things easier for milady,” Meiko added.

Black was puzzled. “What are you all on about? Does this have anything to do with Harry?”

“No,” Scarlet replied, catching the disappointment on his face, “but it does concern your brother, Regulus Black.” She watched Black’s expression change and continued, “You’d best call Kreacher upon. He’ll tell you how brave your brother truly was - and why he deserves your pride.”

Black looked at her, confused. He turned to Dumbledore, who nodded. With little patience, he called out, “Kreacher! come here!”

With a loud crack, Kreacher, the old, wrinkled house-elf, appeared, hunched over and muttering, “Kreacher lives to serve the noble House of Black—poor Master Sirius, what a shame…”

“Shut up!” Black snapped, then composed himself when he noticed Scarlet’s disapproving look. He sighed and said, “He’s here, so...now what?”

“Ask him how his Master Regulus died,” Scarlet said, watching the house-elf jolt at her words. “Ask him about Regulus’s death in the hidden cave, where he left a locket in a basin – a final act of defiance against the dark wizard. Ask him to tell the truth.”

Black was stunned. “What do you mean, Regulus’s last act of defiance? Isn’t he at loose?”

“In his final moments, he did something quite Gryffindor,” Scarlet said, gesturing for him to press Kreacher. “Kreacher knows, but you’ll have to force him to speak, because if I’m not mistaken, Regulus ordered him to keep it secret.”

Black looked at the old house-elf in disbelief, then spoke in a threatening tone. “Kreacher, I order you to tell me everything. EVERYTHING about Regulus’s last moments, what he did, and what you did!”

Kreacher curled into a ball, his tear-streaked face hidden between his knees. In a muffled voice, he slowly began to recount the story of his beloved Master Regulus...