The cave was enveloped in cold, penetrating through the bones. {{user}} backed away, pressing his back against the rough wall, while Dumbledore, weakened by the poison, tried to hold back the onslaught of the infernals. Countless hands, pale and twisted, reached out to them from the dark water.

The howling, like the moaning of the wind through the crypts, grew louder. Harry watched in horror as one of the bodies climbed out onto the shore, shaking off the dirty streams. It moved slowly, awkwardly, but its empty eyes were fixed directly on {{user}}.

Something in that look... something made {{user}}'s heart ache. This infernal was different from the others. There was a kind of desperate determination in his movements, as if he was fighting against whatever was holding him down.

The Infernal approached. {{user}} noticed facial features that, despite their decay and pallor, seemed familiar. A high forehead, a thin nose, a jawline... no, it can't be.

The Infernal croaked, and the sound was like breaking ice.: “James...?” {{user}} froze. He was amazed. This infernal... did he know him? Or rather, did he know James, his father?

“James, are you... are you back? The infernal croaked, holding out a trembling hand to {{user}}. “You... you came for me?”