I Can Only Die in This Jar... Live in This Jar?

There was no pull from the pitch-black vortex. The faint glow drifted toward Wizet at tremendous speed and merged into Regulus Black's locket.

The ring of fire once more encircled the island at the lake's center. The Inferi stirring restlessly beneath the lakebed fell silent again.

Click!

Wizet closed the locket, quickly walked over to the crystal jar, and placed it inside.

Kreacher hurriedly screwed the lid shut and asked uncertainly, "Great Mr. Lovegood, is that... enough?"

"That's enough... Everything went very smoothly," Wizet replied. "But I'm afraid it will still take some time for Mr. Regulus Black to wake up."

He looked toward Dumbledore. Dumbledore's forehead was covered in sweat, his eyelids drooped, his lips were pale, and his face was full of exhaustion. "Headmaster Dumbledore, you..."

"It was a little more exhausting than I imagined," Dumbledore said, his usual gentle smile appearing on his face. "But being able to save a soul is worthwhile no matter what."

"It was merely a vortex representing death. It truly was not as difficult to deal with as I had imagined." Seeing the concern on Wizet's face, he continued, "At most, I just won't stay up tonight..."

"Headmaster Dumbledore, do you need some Soul-Soothing Potion?" Wizet asked. "I'll prepare some to carry with me..."

"That would be wonderful!" Dumbledore said. "Severus's Soul-Soothing Potion... always tastes particularly bitter."

"I drank Soul-Soothing Potion brewed by Horace before, and it wasn't bitter at all. I don't think that's normal."

Accompanied by a splashing sound, Sirius and the others struggled ashore and lay flat on their backs at the edge of the island in the lake's center.

Regulus Black's body was brought back to the lakeshore. He had a face very similar to Sirius's, along with the same black hair, though his features looked gentler.