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"Hello, Mr. Black." Dracula approached the inferi with a chuckle, looking down at the face partially hidden beneath the black hair. "It's Mr. Black, right? I'm with you—I saw the Black family crest on your chest."
After Dracula's magical transformation, this Inferi looked completely different from its original state.
His black hair, soaked in blood, hung loosely over his face, covering half his cheeks. Yet, from the visible lower half, one could still see his handsomeness and pride.
Now, the skin on his body showed no signs of the swelling caused by long-term immersion. It was a little pale but remarkably smooth, resembling that of a wealthy young man who had never truly suffered.
Hearing Dracula's voice, he raised his head in confusion.
"Ahem… who are you, and why are you here?" he asked emotionally. "Where's Kreacher? Where is Kreacher?!"
"Calm down, Mr. Black." Dracula raised a finger, and a pair of demon wings appeared on the fingertip.
The young man, sitting in the bloody lake, seemed to have cold water poured on him—he immediately calmed.
"I suppose you need to know what year it is now." Dracula recalled waking from a hundred-year slumber and said, "It's 1992. I don't know if that matches your memory. Is the time different for you?"
"What?!" The black-haired young man's eyes widened. "You're joking! It's clearly 1979—thirteen years earlier than what you said!"
"It seems you lost your life thirteen years ago," Dracula smiled. "Look around, Mr. Black. This place is no longer where you died. I brought you back here."
Hearing Dracula's chilling words, the young man instinctively turned his head, staring blankly at his surroundings, confusion and disbelief flooding his eyes.
"I... I remember being in a very dark cave… dragged into the water by countless Inferi…" he murmured. "Yeah… I must really be dead… already…"
Seeing that some of the young man's memories remained, Dracula nodded approvingly.
He casually sat back as the blood-red lake surged and formed a ruby-clear seat beneath him.
"Mr. Black, tell us your story." Dracula sat comfortably, legs crossed, eyes focused.
"My name is Regulus Arcturus Black." The black-haired young man said calmly. "I can't recall much about the past. Only that I used to be a Death Eater."
For some reason, he felt no resistance toward the silver-haired man.
Dracula's eyes narrowed. "I'm more curious why a core Death Eater marked by the Dark Mark was killed by Voldemort and then cruelly turned into an Inferi?"
"I don't know if I was made into an Inferi, but I wasn't killed by the Dark Lord himself," Regulus replied expressionlessly. "I remember clearly—I volunteered to die."
"I discovered the secret to the Dark Lord's immortality, a secret no other Death Eater knew."
"Horcruxes, right?" Dracula said, intrigued.
Surprise flickered across Regulus's face as he looked at Dracula.
"Yes, Horcruxes. I learned about them from my family's dark magic collection," he said softly. "To prevent the Dark Lord's immortality, I willingly went through the traps he set and took his Horcrux."
"Wait a minute!" Serena appeared beside them, frowning. "You should be one of the Dark Lord's trusted followers—why would you want to destroy him? What about eternal life?"
As she spoke, Serena glanced at Dracula, pointed at his chair, then behind her.
Dracula laughed, waved a hand, and conjured a matching ruby chair for Serena.
"The Dark Lord... his methods are cruel. He cares for no one but himself!" Regulus closed his eyes in pain, recalling his time as a Death Eater. "At first, I hesitated—I didn't want to betray him."
"But one day, the Dark Lord asked me for a house elf to experiment on. I recommended Kreacher," Regulus said with bitter sadness. "I told Kreacher to obey the Dark Lord's orders and then return home."
"Kreacher clung to my instructions, willing to muster his last strength. Using the house elf's unique Disapparition, he was to break through the Dark Lord's counter-curse and return to the Black family home."
Regulus's eyes shed blood-red tears.
His body was still partly Inferi—he had no real tears. These were blood tears Dracula had used to repair his organs.
"I pushed Kreacher into the depths of pain and death with my own hands," Regulus said, tears streaming down his face. "Kreacher has been my best friend and family since birth, yet I condemned him to the flames."
"Calm yourself, Mr. Black. Control your emotions," Dracula interrupted, raising a hand. "If you get too upset, the organs I just repaired might break again. And I won't fix them twice."
"It's not that it can't be repaired—it's just I hate repetitive work."
"Thank you. I'll be careful," Regulus said, brushing away the bloody tears.
"Kreacher never told me what happened after he got home," Regulus continued. "But I saw the fear and weakness in his eyes. I asked him to tell me everything."
"After learning the Dark Lord's cruelty, I was furious. I told Kreacher to take me to the cave where the Dark Lord kept his Horcrux."
"That's when I finally understood the Dark Lord's plan for eternal life through Horcruxes." Regulus's tone turned resentful. "A man like him wouldn't even care about his closest followers. He doesn't deserve eternal life!"
"So I returned home and had someone make a locket almost identical to the Dark Lord's Horcrux. Then I asked Kreacher to lead me back to the cave."
"I drank the poison he set and stole the Horcrux myself."
Regulus fell silent, and the air grew heavy.
"So… you knew you were going to die from that moment?" Dracula asked after a pause.
"Yes. But I was willing." Regulus nodded. "Except for the Dark Lord, I was the only one who knew about Horcruxes, and it became my mission."
"If the Dark Lord ruled the world, happiness would vanish. Even the Black family would become his puppets. And if he found out his Horcrux was swapped, he'd come after me—and implicate my whole family."
"So I chose death. It was the best ending for me. My family knows nothing. As long as Voldemort doesn't expose the Horcrux secret, they'll be safe."
Silence returned.
Suddenly, a seat rose from the lake, lifting Regulus's soaked body.
It was the same ruby-like chair as Dracula's and Serena's.
"You're a hero, Mr. Black." Dracula stood, placing a hand on Regulus's shoulder with feeling. "I didn't expect a casually resurrected Inferi to hold such a... remarkable story."
At first, Dracula was interested in Regulus's Inferi because he was the only one who slipped through that war's net. It embarrassed Dracula and made him curious.
When he discovered the Black family crest and the Dark Mark on Regulus's left arm, he grew more intrigued—why would such a high-ranking Death Eater be killed by Voldemort and turned into an Inferi?
So Dracula "resurrected" Regulus, hoping to uncover the memories left behind.
However, he did not expect that such a humble Inferi would bring such a touching story.
Dracula, who had originally come for some fun, found himself unexpectedly moved, feeling a little embarrassed.
He turned his head and glanced at Serena secretly, only to see her burying her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling.
"Is little Serena moved to tears?" Dracula smirked, gently ruffling the place on her head where the black and white strands of hair met.
Comparing his own composed expression to Serena's, Dracula suddenly no longer felt ashamed.
"No!" Serena's muffled voice came from between her fingers.
She shook her head, trying to brush off Dracula's hand, but failed.
"Mr. Black, please stay here for a while." Dracula smoothed Serena's hair softly, then turned to Regulus. "You're no longer just a wizard — now you're a special Inferi, a kind of dark creature."
"The blood lake here has an incredible nourishing effect on dark beings. You should stay a few more days and try to restore the organs in your body that have long ceased functioning."
"Cherish this chance — few have the privilege of entering the blood lake!"
Pulling the tearful Serena gently aside, Dracula prepared to find something else to distract himself with. How could the indifferent Earl possibly be moved by a young man?
"Wait a moment!" Regulus called from behind, stopping Dracula as he took a few steps away.
Dracula turned and looked back at him.
"Sir, I don't even know your name yet." Regulus, now calmer, straightened his faded robe and stood from the ruby-like seat.
"You rescued me from the Inferi and helped me regain my memories. This is nothing short of a gift of reincarnation." He bowed deeply. "I will look for opportunities to repay your kindness."
"You can call me Dracula," he replied, meeting Regulus's serious gaze. "As for this 'gift of reincarnation,' don't mention it. I didn't save you out of kindness — I just wanted some fun."
"No matter your original intention, to me, it is kindness." Regulus's voice was solemn. "The Black family never forgets a kindness."
He hesitated, then added, "I have another, perhaps unkind, request."
"Tell me." Dracula's interest was piqued.
"I want to see Kreacher. I don't know if he followed my orders to find a way to destroy the Dark Lord's Horcrux," Regulus said softly. "It's been thirteen years since I left. I don't know if he has tried, or how my family is doing."
"I also want to know what the outside world is like now."
"I don't know if the Dark Lord was defeated by Dumbledore, or if he still rules the wizarding world. I lost my wand and can't sense magic, so I'm lost — I don't know how to escape here."
Dracula studied Regulus's earnest expression and nodded silently.
"Eleven years ago, the Dark Lord failed," he said. "But not at Dumbledore's hand — at a baby's."
Regulus's eyes widened in shock.
"Don't ask questions yet," Dracula warned, raising a hand. "You'll find out naturally once you're outside. Everyone in the magical world knows."
"As for finding your house elf…"
"No problem, I can take you there myself."
Dracula hadn't planned to bother with Regulus's requests — the Inferi's body was far from healed, and Dracula was too lazy to help restore it. But when Regulus mentioned Horcruxes, Dracula's curiosity flared.
Since Voldemort wasn't completely destroyed by his death curse eleven years ago, nor annihilated in Dracula's blood prison, it meant at least one Horcrux remained in the world.
And that meant Regulus's house elf probably hadn't succeeded in destroying it.
Dracula realized he had an opportunity to study such mysterious objects firsthand — something he'd long desired.
Without hesitation, he agreed to Regulus's request.
"Serena, stay here and look after the castle. Take good care of it!" He looked at her seriously. "I'm taking Mr. Black to his home."
Serena's expression was blank, still too overwhelmed to react.
She watched helplessly as Dracula asked about the Black family's location, then vanished with Regulus in a flash of dark moonlight.
Only then did she realize she'd been left behind again as the castle's housekeeper, while Dracula kept playing the aloof landlord.
"Ahhh — how can he be such a hateful vampire!" Serena stomped her feet in frustration, then spread her black-and-white wings and flew back to her room to sulk.
…
Borough of Islington, London, England.
A dark moon materialized suddenly in a small square. Dracula and Regulus stood on a deserted, overgrown patch of grass at its center.
The houses surrounding the square were eerie and desolate, looking abandoned for miles. Broken windows reflected the cold streetlights, paint peeled from doors, and garbage piled up on front steps.
"Is this the right place? The Black family lives here?" Dracula eyed Regulus suspiciously. "This place seems more fitting for vampires and Inferi."
"It is," Regulus replied bitterly. "But it looks like no one has cared for this neighborhood in a long time."
He stepped out of the grass, crossed the street, and approached the sidewalk, his eyes heavy with emotion as he studied the gloomy homes.
"Remember this address — 12 Grimmauld Place," Regulus told Dracula as he followed. "You know, the Fidelius spell."
Dracula chuckled. "I got it."
As he memorized the address, a shabby door suddenly appeared between numbers 11 and 13.
The grimy walls and windows looked like an unnatural expansion that pushed out everything beside it.
Seeing Dracula's curious look, Regulus smiled faintly, pride mingling with sorrow.
"Mr. Dracula, this way."
He reached toward the door, weathered black paint peeling and scratched, with a silver door knocker shaped like a coiled snake.
There was no keyhole; the door could only be opened by magic.
Taking a deep breath, Regulus summoned courage and pressed the doorbell...