In the Headmaster's office, Professor Dumbledore, dressed in a moon-white nightgown, was facing Draco Malfoy, who was wearing a long robe.
"Excuse my bluntness, Draco... whilst I look forward to seeing you again, I truly did not expect you to be so efficient. It has been less than twelve hours since we said goodbye, has it not?" Dumbledore asked sleepily.
He wore a simple grey flat-topped tassel cap and a pink bow on his beard, an outfit that made this greatest wizard of the century seem amiable no matter what he said.
"Believe me, sir, I would not have been so rude as to wake you at this hour unless it was an emergency." There was a hint of nervousness in Draco's voice.
"Cannot wait a moment longer?" Dumbledore yawned amiably, without any annoyance at being interrupted from his sleep by a student.
"I cannot wait," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement and anticipation.
It was the early hours of the morning, and Draco was both exhausted and excited.
He felt he might suddenly die at any moment by excitement. Although no respectable wizard should disturb someone so late at night... he should at least wait until dawn.
But he always felt something screaming inside his soul. This completely extinguished his patience.
This matter absolutely cannot wait until tomorrow. He thought to himself.
"That makes me even more curious. Tell me," Dumbledore said, perking up.
"I think I have probably found the location of a Horcrux," Draco said, composing himself and clenching his fists.
"What did you say? Where?" Those sleepy aged eyes suddenly sharpened.
"Before that, I need you to bring Sirius Black here... only he can do this," Draco said, his brow furrowed.
He originally did not want to have anything to do with this prodigal scion of the Black family, but now he had no choice but to ask him for a favour.
"You are good at keeping people in suspense." Dumbledore stared at him.
Draco remained silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, holding to his own position.
The old man woke Fawkes, who was dozing on a branch, and whispered a few words to him. The phoenix spread his wings and swept out of the Headmaster's office like a fiery red wind.
When Sirius, dressed in a hospital gown, was wheeled to the Headmaster's office by Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore was brewing a pot of hot tea.
"Ah... Poppy, you have come at the perfect time. Would you like a drink?"
"No, thank you! I think you had better give me an explanation!" Her angry voice echoed through the Headmaster's office, a stark contrast to her usual brisk demeanour. "At four in the morning, instead of letting the patient rest, you have him walking in the cold night air!"
"Oh, Poppy, I suppose a professional like yourself would have used a Warming Charm on him," Dumbledore said gently.
"Of course!" Madam Pomfrey said in a somewhat mollified tone, with a touch of pride. "It is what a qualified Healer should do."
"Thank you, Poppy. I will give you a reasonable explanation later. But for now, please give us some privacy," Dumbledore said in an unquestionable tone.
Madam Pomfrey glanced at Draco sitting opposite Dumbledore, looked at his severely sleep-deprived face, and hesitated before leaving the Headmaster's office.
Sirius leaned lazily in his wheelchair, one arm in a sling and a wound on the side of his face that was almost healed.
His hair was cut shorter, cleaner and neater, and his cheeks looked fuller. Perhaps because he had just been woken, his gaze seemed somewhat vacant.
"What is wrong?" He glanced nonchalantly at Draco and Dumbledore, whose faces were serious.
Although his face showed impatience, in reality, this strange combination in the early morning had aroused his suspicions.
"We need your house-elf, Kreacher," Draco said slowly, giving him a wary look.
This was the first time Sirius Black had shown a surprised expression after coming.
How could his own unpopular house-elf elicit such eager looks from a Malfoy?
He glanced questioningly at Dumbledore behind the table.
Dumbledore fiddled with his wand, briefly met his gaze, and nodded slightly.
"Wait a moment." He stood up from his wheelchair, limped a few steps, took some Floo Powder from Dumbledore's fireplace, and stepped straight into the bright green flames.
The Headmaster's office was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the slow ticking of the grandfather clock and the sliding of the celestial constellation models on the ceiling. A series of faint bubbling sounds emanated from the cabinet containing the Pensieve.
Dumbledore remained silent, looking thoughtful as he sipped his tea, glancing occasionally at the pale-faced boy sitting across from him.
Draco was also drinking tea. He was not looking at Dumbledore, but staring intently at a single upright tea stalk bobbing up and down in his teacup.
As he finished his tea, Sirius emerged from the fireplace, accompanied by Kreacher.
Kreacher was still the same as ever. Thin, barely half a person's height, with pale, wrinkled skin, bat-like ears filled with clumps of white hair, and dirty, tattered clothing that was utterly unattractive.
It clearly lacked respect for its current master. Although it followed Sirius and appeared subservient, Draco did not miss the undisguised contempt in its eyes when it occasionally looked up.
Sirius sat back in his wheelchair, looking disgusted. "Alright, I brought him. Stop being so mysterious... just say what you want."
"I need Kreacher to answer a few questions for me," Draco said, looking the house-elf up and down.
"That ill-mannered master who keeps people awake in the middle of the night," Kreacher ignored the boy in front of him and began to complain in a hoarse, bullfrog-like voice, "being with that blood-traitor who likes foreign male wizards(Dumbledore) and that thieving little brat who lives the pampered life of the respected Lady Narcissa(Draco)..."
"Be quiet, and do not swear," Sirius said angrily. "Draco Malfoy has a question for you, and I order you to answer him. Tell the truth. Understood?"
"Yes." Kreacher bowed and mumbled to his knees. His lips moved silently, undoubtedly uttering some insulting words.
"When you mentioned 'the master's belongings' when we last met, were you referring to the belongings of your old master Regulus?" Draco asked.
After a moment of silence, Kreacher straightened up and glared at Draco with hatred. He replied, "Yes."
"What is it?" Draco asked eagerly.
Kreacher's expression was grim, as if he harboured some deep-seated hatred for Draco. He clutched his own throat, staring intently, refusing to speak.
"Take your hand down and say it!" Sirius commanded him.
"A gold locket." Kreacher could bear it no longer and closed his eyes, as if uttering these words would be the greatest betrayal of his beloved master.
A locket! Just as I suspected! This is very likely Slytherin's Locket! Draco's heart pounded against his ribs.
Dumbledore, who had been sipping his second cup of hot tea, finally set it down. He put down his teacup, his deep blue eyes fixed on Kreacher through his spectacles.
"What gold locket?" Sirius finally became interested, his mind filled with doubt. "Where did it come from? What is Regulus's connection to it? Kreacher... tell us everything you know about this locket, and everything about Regulus and its connection to it!"
The little house-elf trembled and began to sway from side to side.
Draco could hear a quality of suppressed anguish in its deep voice, which was very clear in the quiet of the early morning.
"Young Master Regulus has always been very well-mannered. He knows what the Black family name and his own noble pure blood mean. For years, he has spoken of the Dark Lord, the one who made wizards no longer hide, but instead rule over Muggles and those of Muggle origin... At the age of sixteen, Young Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord's company. He served with such pride, such honour, such happiness... Then...
Then... one day, a year after he joined, Young Master Regulus came downstairs to the kitchen to see Kreacher, and he said the Dark Lord needed a house-elf. The young master has always been fond of Kreacher... Kreacher must do whatever the Dark Lord commands and then return home safely."
Kreacher swayed, his gasps turning into sobs. Sirius frowned and said, "Go on."
"Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord took Kreacher to a cave by the sea. Deep inside the cave was a great black lake, a boat, and on an island in the middle was a stone basin filled with potion. The Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it." The house-elf trembled from head to toe.
Dumbledore stroked his grey beard, seemingly lost in thought.
"Kreacher drank it, and whilst he was drinking, he saw terrible things. It felt as if his body was on fire. Kreacher drank all the potion, and the Dark Lord placed a locket in the empty basin. He filled it with more potion. Then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher alone on the island..." The little house-elf shuddered, lost in his terrible memories.