In the hallway of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Regulus had barely found his footing when Walburga hurried forward to meet him.
She wore dark green robes embroidered with the House of Black crest. A black diamond Sirius brooch glittered at her collar under the firelight. Her lips were curved in a visible smile, and the fine lines at the corners of her eyes had softened considerably.
"My Regulus!" She reached out and firmly grasped her son's arm. "You're finally back. Look at you, you've grown so much taller, and your complexion is wonderful."
Her gaze swept over Regulus's neat robes and tidy curls, finally landing on the family brooch on his chest. The pride in her eyes was almost overflowing.
"I've read all the letters from Hogwarts—Slytherin House Chief, straight O's in every subject, and you let those blind fools know the power of the Blacks. Well done!"
Orion stood by the fireplace, his face still devoid of much expression, but his gaze toward Regulus was full of gratification.
He stepped forward and raised a hand to pat Regulus's shoulder, the weight of his palm heavy. "It's good to have you back."
Walburga pulled Regulus toward the living room, chattering incessantly. "Kreacher finished tidying your room long ago. I had the vines outside the window kept; you used to stare at them all the time when you were little."
She paused for a moment, her tone shifting naturally. "Where is Sirius? Didn't he come back with you?"
The cheerful atmosphere instantly froze. The portraits on the walls exchanged glances, and a Victorian-era female ancestor let out a soft sigh.
Regulus's expression remained calm, without a ripple of emotion. "He's not coming back."
"Not coming back?" Walburga's voice rose sharply. The smile on her face vanished instantly, replaced by anger and disappointment.
"That rebellious son! I knew it! Corrupted by those Gryffindor idiots, not coming home for Christmas!"
She clenched her fists. "One day, he will pay the price for his defiance!"
Orion frowned but didn't argue. He merely gave Regulus a look, signaling that he needn't mind.
Regulus truly didn't mind; he had expected this outcome long ago.
Walburga's anger came and went quickly. After cursing Sirius for a few moments, she soon turned her attention back to Regulus, her tone becoming fervent again.
"Forget that rebellious son, let's not speak of him. Quick, tell me, what exactly did you do at school?
Professor Slughorn said your Potions are better than a fifth-year student's. Is that true?
And that Travers—I heard he provoked you and you taught him a proper lesson?"
She had clearly already found out every detail through various channels, yet she insisted on hearing it from Regulus's own mouth.
Regulus followed her lead, simply describing the situation in Potions class and the conflict with Travers. He didn't embellish, providing only an objective account.
Walburga listened with delight, occasionally exclaiming in admiration, "That's how it should be! A member of the House of Black should not suffer the slightest slight! Those who don't know their place should be taught a lesson!"
Dinner was set in the dining room. The long table was covered with a deep red velvet tablecloth, and the silver cutlery glinted coldly in the firelight.
Kreacher brought out exquisite dishes one by one: roast turkey, lamb chops, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie—all the things Regulus loved as a child.
Oh, not the turkey. Turkey was dry, and Regulus didn't enjoy eating it.
It was a dinner for only three people, yet the table was still packed full, as if trying to fill the void left by Sirius's absence.
While serving Regulus food, Walburga rambled on: "The glory of the pure-blood families must ultimately rest on your shoulders.
Look at the Malfoy family; Lucius is decent, but he's far behind you.
As for the Lestrange family, only Bella is somewhat presentable; Rodolphus is far too lacking."
Regulus had long realized that her fanaticism was completely different from Bella's.
In Bella's eyes, there was only worship for Lord Voldemort himself, viewing him as a god-like existence and willing to sacrifice everything for him.
But Walburga's fanaticism always revolved around the pure-blood glory of the House of Black. Lord Voldemort's emergence was merely a timely aid that could help the House of Black return to its peak.
Regulus listened silently, suddenly feeling a bit sentimental.
He remembered when he was a child, his magic awakening at ten months old, and the way Walburga had held him in wild joy.
He remembered her sitting before the family tapestry, recounting the ancestors' great achievements over and over with such devotion.
He remembered that although she was bigoted, she would quietly tuck him into bed on cold nights while he was fast asleep.
If there were another path that could allow the glory of the House of Black to continue or even rise without needing to depend on Lord Voldemort, Walburga might not necessarily be an obstacle.
But the prerequisite was that he could achieve it and let her see it with her own eyes.
"What do you think of your classmates at school?" Walburga suddenly asked, her eyes filled with expectation, though she seemed to have already determined the answer.
Regulus set down his knife and fork, his tone deliberately tinged with a faint pride: "They're just so-so."
Orion looked up at him.
"Talent is uneven, and most are short-sighted," Regulus continued. "They focus on classroom content and indulge in house rivalries, unable to see further than that."
His gaze never lingered on his peers; in this era, no one's talent could surpass his.
Walburga listened with a face full of agreement. "Well said! Not to mention those half-bloods and Muggle-borns, even some pure-bloods only know how to live off their heritage. They can't compare to you at all!
Our Regulus is the most outstanding heir of the House of Black!"
Orion set down his wine glass and spoke slowly, "At school, there's no need to be too flashy."
His tone was calm, without reproach, more of a reminder. "But your performance has indeed not disappointed us."
He turned his gaze out the window, his voice lowering slightly. "Keep an eye on Sirius's side. If there's a chance… let him know the family still thinks of him."
Walburga's brow furrowed, wanting to say something, but she ultimately didn't speak. She just viciously cut a piece of turkey as if venting her dissatisfaction with Sirius.
Dinner ended amidst Walburga's chattering and Orion's occasional interjections.
As Kreacher cleared the dishes, Orion said to Regulus, "Go and freshen up first, then come to my study."
Regulus nodded. He knew this would be the real family talk.
Walburga was suitable for discussing superficial things like family glory and school performance; she was not a suitable conversational partner for deep topics.
She was even less so than Narcissa; at least Narcissa could provide valuable information and advice, possessing enough rationality and wisdom.
Half an hour later, Regulus knocked on the door of Orion's study.
"Come in."
The study was filled with the scent of ink and old books. Behind a massive mahogany desk, Orion sat in a chair, holding an open copy of the *Wizengamot Collection of Magical Law*.
Seeing Regulus walk in, he closed the book, leaned forward slightly, and scrutinized him carefully.
"Only half a year, and the change is significant," Orion's voice carried a hint of sentiment.
"Your stature is upright, and your temperament has settled. You don't look like an eleven-year-old child, but rather like a wizard who can stand on his own."
Regulus stood still before the desk and didn't speak, waiting for his father to continue.
Orion's fingertips tapped lightly on the desk. "I reminded you long ago to be mindful of your conduct at school and not to over-display yourself.
In my later letters, I also told you that hiding one's brilliance is sometimes more important than being flashy."
His eyes held only confusion. "I always thought you were a mature person with whom I could communicate as an equal, but your performance at school clearly shows you didn't listen to me."
Regulus was silent for a moment, his mind thinking rapidly.
He understood Orion's meaning and had kept it in mind.
He had indeed restrained himself. What he displayed was merely the level of magic control and proficiency that a regular wizard might achieve through hard training.
For instance, precise Transfiguration, non-verbal and wandless magic, and strong defensive capabilities—while these were dazzling, they ultimately fell within the scope of what a wizard should be capable of.
He had never shown the true power of Star-track Guided Meditation, never exposed his exploration of micro-Transfiguration, and certainly never revealed the advanced knowledge brought by a transmigrator's soul.
Yet even so, these restrained performances had still exceeded everyone's expectations.
"I have already restrained myself." Regulus looked up, meeting Orion's gaze, his tone calm yet firm. "What I displayed is only what I consider to be a normal level of ability."
Orion raised an eyebrow, clearly somewhat skeptical.
"In the wizarding world, once personal power reaches a certain level, it is enough to change many things," Regulus continued.
"A family's stance, the attitudes of others, and the resources one can obtain are all directly linked to strength.
I need to let others see my value to gain more support. This is beneficial for the Black family and for myself."
He added, "Furthermore, what I have shown is only a small part. My true power has never been revealed."
A flash of surprise crossed Orion's eyes, and he then fell into deep thought.
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