Chapter 180: The Contract
Although Sirius had hesitated, in the end—largely for Russell's sake—he handed over all those dark magic specimens to Wednesday.
That included even the grotesque construct inhabited by his uncle.
Wednesday accepted everything with quiet delight, then obediently returned to Russell's side, saying nothing more.
Though there were still many items in the basement that caught her interest, she knew when to stop. After all, it was only a personal fascination—not worth pushing too far.
And having received such "gifts," she worked even more diligently at cleaning.
When they reached the northeast corner, Harry noticed that an entire wall was covered in dark red velvet.
On closer inspection—
It wasn't velvet at all.
It was layers upon layers of tightly packed magical scrolls.
Russell frowned. Something about them felt… wrong.
Carefully, he used a Levitation Charm to lift a corner.
The moment it peeled back—
A drowning, gasping sound echoed from within the wall.
Vein-like patterns spread across the scrolls, pulsing faintly in rhythm with that eerie "breathing."
"What… are these?" Russell asked, immediately casting a Shield Charm as a precaution.
Sirius's voice turned cold.
"That's a wall of dark contracts."
"You mean… all of these are dark magic contracts?" Harry asked, confused.
But Wednesday's expression sharpened slightly.
Unlike ordinary agreements, these contracts were brutally binding—comparable to an Unbreakable Vow. Some even enforced one-sided obligations.
She knew this well—an ancestor of hers had once signed such a contract, barely escaping its consequences.
"That's right," Sirius said grimly. "Every single one is written in house-elf blood."
"My mother once forced Regulus to swear here—never to betray pure-blood ideology."
A flash of red light burst from his wand.
The entire wall ignited in blue flames.
"I was meant to do the same," he added quietly. "But I never swore that oath."
As the scrolls burned, the air filled with a charred stench—
And the flames carried the sound of infant-like wailing.
Suddenly—
A blackened hand burst out from the fire, lunging toward Wednesday.
Russell reacted instantly.
With a flick of his wand, the hand was sliced apart midair, crumbling into ash as it hit the ground.
"…I meant to ask earlier," Sirius said, eyeing Russell with curiosity. "That spell—did Snivellus teach it to you?"
"You mean Severus Snape? More or less," Russell nodded. "It's a very practical spell."
Sirius hesitated for a moment.
"…Are you close with him?"
There was a hint of concern in his voice.
If Russell and Snape were on good terms… and Sirius himself had always been at odds with Snape, would that put Russell in an awkward position?
Years in Azkaban had clearly changed him—once, he wouldn't have even considered such a thing.
"We get along quite well," Russell replied.
"But there's no need for you to change how you deal with him."
"Even if you forced yourself to… Professor Snape certainly wouldn't."
Russell shrugged, unconcerned.
"You're right," Sirius nodded. The hesitation he'd felt moments ago vanished completely.
"There's a hidden compartment here!"
Harry brushed away the cobwebs beneath a shelf, revealing a bronze indentation.
"Let me see."
Sirius stepped forward, rummaged briefly through his belongings, then pressed a token engraved with the Black family crest into the slot.
With a deep, grinding rumble of turning gears, the mechanism activated.
A concealed compartment slid open before them.
Inside lay a notebook wrapped in snakeskin, its cover embroidered in emerald thread with the initials:
R.A.B
When Sirius flipped it open, neat handwriting appeared—Regulus Black's script.
But much of it had been smeared with blood, making it difficult to read.
"…Dark Lord… locket… room… Inferi… second basement…"
Sirius squinted, frowning. Even after a long moment, he couldn't piece together the full meaning.
"Do you think he's saying there's something in the second level of the basement?" Russell suggested.
"…That's possible," Sirius admitted.
Though he spoke of his brother with disdain, he still slipped the notebook into his pocket.
"There's a second basement?" Harry asked, surprised.
He'd never even been allowed near a basement at the Dursleys'.
Come to think of it… maybe they weren't that bad, he thought absently.
The moment they forced open the iron door to the lower level with Alohomora—
A wave of stale, rotting dampness surged out, carrying a chilling cold.
Russell raised his wand, the light of Lumos sweeping across piles of tarnished silverware. The Black family crests etched into them had long been corroded by mold—twisted shapes that looked disturbingly like screaming faces.
"Merlin's beard…"
Harry stumbled back, his eyes wide.
In the depths of the cellar—
A pale hand stretched out from behind iron bars.
Black sludge, like lakebed silt, was caked beneath its fingernails.
Is that… a person?
He swallowed hard.
Sirius took a deep breath and blasted the rusted lock apart.
What lay beyond made them all freeze.
A corpse.
Bound to a stone pillar by seven rune-etched chains.
Its skin was cracked and dry like parched earth—
Yet its face remained eerily intact.
Beneath dark curls, the features were unmistakable.
It looked exactly like Regulus.
Its lips moved slowly.
"—locket… light… tides… I retrieved—"
A hollow, wind-like sound rasped from its throat.
"…Regulus…"
Sirius's voice caught.
He was certain.
This was his brother.
But how…? Why was he here?
And why had he become—
An Inferius.
An Inferius was a corpse reanimated by dark magic—a puppet controlled by a dark wizard.
It had no will, no soul.
Only obedience.
Its appearance was chilling—preserving a distorted echo of life. Pale, waterlogged flesh. Empty or faintly glowing eyes.
But—
"This isn't a normal Inferius."
Wednesday crouched down, using her wand to lift a strip of decayed cloth from its collarbone.
"Look at its eyes."
The Addams family had dealt with many such creations.
She knew the difference.
Harry leaned closer—
—and nearly cried out.
The eye sockets were not empty.
Inside them were actual human eyeballs, clouded over with a frosty white film—like cursed mirrors.
"…Kreacher," Russell said quietly.
"He must know what this is."
"And he's probably the only one who does."