For 30 + advance chapter: patreon.com/Snowing_Melody
Regulus dutifully followed the beaming newlyweds through the winding corridors of the manor, finally stepping into a deeply private, aggressively luxurious reception room that opened onto a wide marble balcony.
In the very center of the balcony, positioned at the absolute visual focal point of the room to command maximum attention, stood a tall man.
He wore a sweeping, immaculate long black robe paired with a striking, heavy green-trimmed cloak—a sartorial choice that was utterly ridiculous considering the sweltering August heat. His face was as pale as the silver moon. His cheeks were gaunt, and his features seemed slightly indistinct, as if his true face were constantly veiled by a shimmering, unnatural mask. Yet, beneath the distortion, the ghostly echoes of his former, devastatingly handsome youth were still faintly discernible. The whites of his eyes were slightly, unnervingly reddish, exuding a heavy, deeply eerie aura.
Resting prominently on his long, pale finger was the famous, heavy black gemstone ring of the Gaunt family, deeply engraved with the Peverell coat of arms.
Ah, Regulus noted clinically. It seems he hasn't completely deformed himself yet, and that ring hasn't yet been corrupted into a Horcrux.
Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that Bellatrix Lestrange was currently standing off to the side, staring at the man with a violently adoring, utterly unhinged gaze while muttering breathlessly to herself—which slightly disrupted the terrifying, serious atmosphere of the room—the entire scene might have been significantly more spectacular.
Is this supposed to be the overwhelming aura of an unparalleled magical powerhouse? Regulus thought, his modern mind automatically applying a sarcastic (doge.jpg) meme overlay to the Dark Lord's dramatic posing.
Despite his internal mockery, Regulus quickly took a closer, analytical look, trying to clinically study the man's arrogant, commanding attitude.
How he spoke, how he stood perfectly still, how he subtly managed his image to project absolute authority—it was all a masterful display of psychological personal development. I suppose, Regulus mused, if you're slowly losing your nose and your good looks to dark magic, you really have to aggressively make up for it with sheer, theatrical charisma.
But if Regulus was being entirely honest with himself...
He is undeniably disfigured. And he is absolutely not as naturally handsome as Sirius.
Thankfully, Tom Riddle wasn't currently interested in aggressively performing Legilimency on a random twelve-year-old boy. Because if the Dark Lord had actually peaked into Regulus's mind right then and heard the boy critically comparing his looks to a teenager's, his already distorted facial features might have twisted entirely off his skull in pure rage.
"My Lord... Dark Lord," Bellatrix's voice trembled slightly with fanatical devotion. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy have arrived."
"The newlyweds," Lord Voldemort said. His pale expression remained entirely unchanged. His tone was extremely cold, his voice deep, clear, and perfectly modulated. He was absolutely nailing the required aura of a villainous, unapproachable tyrant.
"A pure-blooded union. A glorious continuation of our noble heritage. Congratulations to you both."
Voldemort offered a haughty, intensely aloof smile. It was perfectly, terrifyingly measured—neither too warm nor too dismissive.
"We deeply thank you for your blessing, Lord Voldemort," Lucius and Narcissa chorused, bowing low. They both looked extremely humbled, terrified, and overwhelmingly flattered that he had bothered to attend.
"I would be deeply honored to help you in any of your endeavors, My Lord," Lucius added smoothly, his head bowed.
Oh, sweet Merlin... that is just way too cheesy, Regulus thought, physically lowering his head to hide his cringe.
He mentally grumbled a string of modern Chinese internet slang before quickly, violently pulling himself back to reality.
To be completely honest, this whole "Dark Lord" and "My Lord" pureblood roleplay was just so incredibly, deeply cringeworthy to a modern soul.
After all, in his original hometown—a place heavily frequented by gamers and modern netizens—those archaic, feudalistic dregs of forcing people to bow and scrape as 'masters' and 'servants' had been violently shattered over a century ago. Sure, there were occasionally some incredibly weird, role-playing idiots online who jokingly called themselves "old servants" to wealthy influencers and insisted on "paying respects to the young master" in the comment sections... but that was purely ironic and hopelessly outdated! The vast majority of modern people—and certainly Regulus as a hardcore gamer—looked at this kind of feudal subservience with the exact same expression as an old man squinting in disgust at his glowing phone screen.
For the sake of his own mental health, and the safety of countless underage wizards currently being brainwashed, Regulus decided right then and there that it was absolutely imperative—an inevitable historical trend—for him to violently break down the feudal, pureblood superstition surrounding these 'Lords.'
Of course, Regulus thought, keeping his head bowed, that is a massive, highly dangerous story for another time.
In reality, Regulus didn't dare think about anything else while standing directly in front of Lord Voldemort.
That was just how incredibly timid—(crossed out)—steady and cautious he was.
"And who... is this boy?" Lord Voldemort asked in a slow, casual tone, fully displaying the terrifying arrogance of a vastly superior being.
"This is the next male heir of the Most Noble House of Black, My Lord. Regulus. Currently studying in Slytherin," Bellatrix replied quickly and highly respectfully.
Narcissa subtly, sharply nudged Regulus in the ribs.
Regulus, who was actively pretending to be a highly intimidated, clueless pureblood teenager, took the hint. You still needed to be impeccably polite to the man holding the metaphorical gun.
"Lord Voldemort. Regulus Black is at your service," Regulus said clearly. Briefly meeting Riddle's dark, reddish gaze, Regulus helplessly placed his left hand over his chest, bowed deeply from the waist, straightened up, and immediately lowered his head again to avoid any further direct eye contact.
He instantly, violently cleared his mind. He stopped thinking. He stopped recalling modern memes. He built a mental brick wall and silently, repeatedly recited a single, absurd mantra in his heart:
I am a cactus. I am a spiky, uninteresting cactus. I am a cactus.
He distinctly remembered from the books that Lord Voldemort was an absolute, terrifying master of Legilimency. Although the statistical probability of the Dark Lord actively performing deep, invasive mind-reading on a random twelve-year-old child in the middle of a public wedding reception was incredibly low... Regulus absolutely did not want to take the lethal risk.
Lord Voldemort scrutinized the bowed boy for a long, heavy moment with his deep, tunnel-like eyes. Finding nothing but pureblood deference (and perhaps a vague, confusing mental image of a desert plant), Voldemort looked away.
"Very good. It is pleasing to see that the pure and ancient House of Black still has a proper successor."
Lord Voldemort clearly didn't take Regulus seriously at all. To the Dark Lord, he was just a child. A future pawn. Nothing special.
Actually, Voldemort was vastly more interested in the other boy from the Black family. The eldest heir. The boy of incredibly noble birth, with striking dark hair, devastatingly handsome features, and terrifyingly raw magical talent. The boy who was aggressively rebellious and fiercely independent... someone who was actually much more like Voldemort himself in his youth.
It is a terrible pity, Voldemort thought coldly, that the older boy foolishly allowed himself to be sorted into Gryffindor.
Voldemort then offered a few more words of blessing to the Malfoys that were incredibly cryptic, highly profound, and could be politically interpreted in almost any way they desired.
Then, the atmosphere in the room shifted.
"Hassss... sssseytha... ssss..." Lord Voldemort suddenly switched his linguistic channel.
After a series of mysterious, chilling, wet hissing sounds echoed off the marble walls, a massive, terrifyingly thick green snake—easily as thick as an adult man's thigh—slithered out from beneath the dark velvet curtains and appeared in the center of the living room.
Its robust, muscular body approached Riddle, its heavy scales shimmering in the candlelight. On its large, diamond-shaped triangular head, a pair of narrow, cold slits gleamed. Its long, forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, and it hissed loudly in response to its master.
Narcissa gasped softly, looking utterly, genuinely surprised and slightly terrified by the sudden appearance of the monster. Regulus quickly feigned a look of shocked, pureblood awe. The other two, Lucius and Bellatrix, remained perfectly still; they had clearly already been introduced to the Dark Lord's familiar before.
Nagini.
Flexible, terrifyingly strong, lethally powerful, and darkly graceful... she was the absolute, ultimate Slytherin pet.
Man, Regulus thought enviously, keeping his eyes downcast. If only I could speak Parseltongue.
Impeccable image management + masterful linguistic artistry + literal Parseltongue + the terrifying, cult-like atmosphere actively created by his fanatical followers...
Regulus had to admit: if he were actually, mentally only twelve years old, he would probably deeply, fanatically idolize Tom Riddle too. The man was a masterclass in dark charisma.
Regulus aggressively continued to mutter "I am a cactus" in his mind.
"Ssssah... ssssey..." Lord Voldemort gave another sharp, hissing command.
Nagini turned, her massive body slithering heavily across the carpet to the heavy oak door. She reared up and effortlessly pulled the heavy brass handle down with her thick tail, pulling the door open.
"Regulus, you are dismissed. You may leave," Bellatrix commanded sharply, entirely abandoning any pretense of familial politeness now that the introductions were over.
"My Lord... Rodolphus and the other inner circle members will be arriving here shortly," Regulus heard Lucius murmur as he backed out of the room.
As the heavy oak door clicked shut behind him, Regulus let out a massive, shaky breath. The Death Eaters were officially convening their dark meeting.
While the adult purebloods were out in the Great Hall deeply enjoying the extravagant wedding party—loudly singing, dancing, and drinking themselves into a stupor—Regulus, who had absolutely nothing else to do and desperately wanted to leave enemy territory, quietly summoned Kreacher. He found Sirius hiding in a corner, and the three of them stealthily Apparated back home early.
Sirius, of course, wholeheartedly and enthusiastically agreed with the idea of fleeing the Malfoy estate.
"Well, that was absolutely, mind-numbingly boring," Sirius complained loudly the second they landed in the dusty hallway of Grimmauld Place. He loosened his stiff collar. "I swear to Merlin, I absolutely do not want this kind of circus to happen when I eventually get married."
Regulus patted his older brother consolingly on the shoulder. Don't worry, Sirius. Even if you completely refuse to have a wedding, there will undoubtedly be a massive horde of witches literally crying and begging to marry you anyway.
"By the way," Sirius asked, his grey eyes lighting up with sudden, massive interest as he threw himself onto the living room sofa. "What about the radio? Did you figure it out?"
"What's wrong with it?" Regulus asked. He reached into his inner pocket, pulled out the small, modified Muggle radio, and handed it to Sirius.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Sirius grinned, drawing his wand. He tapped the tip of the oak wood sharply against the plastic casing of the radio.
Suddenly, a voice crackled through the small speaker: "Not bad, Sirius. Thank you. But considering last year you literally only gave me a single, poorly charmed quill pen... this is a massive financial improvement. It seems you're finally starting to take your little brother's existence to heart."
Regulus froze. It was his own exact voice, recorded flawlessly from that morning.
"So, yeah. This is the primary, upgraded function of the radio. I had Uncle Al specifically enchant it to act as a highly sensitive, magical recording device. It secretly recorded all the ambient sounds and conversations you heard today," Sirius explained proudly, tossing the radio back. "This thing actually has a few other highly illegal broadcast functions too, but you'll find out exactly what those are when we get back to Hogwarts."
Oh. Regulus stared at the small plastic box in his hands. So it's a magically modified, highly illegal Muggle radio with a built-in, undetectable wiretap.
Regulus's dark eyes suddenly, violently widened as a massive, world-shattering realization hit him.
"Sirius..." Regulus asked, his voice trembling with sheer, unadulterated eagerness. "Can we fast forward the recording?"
Sirius nodded slowly, looking deeply surprised. He rarely, if ever, saw Regulus look so completely, visibly disoriented and frantic. "Yeah, just twist the right dial—"
Regulus frantically spun the plastic dial, skipping through hours of boring wedding music and pureblood gossip.
"Hassss... sssseytha... ssss..."
The chilling, wet, unmistakable sound of Parseltongue echoed loudly from the small Muggle speaker. It was the exact, highly specific magical commands Lord Voldemort had spoken to Nagini right before she opened the door.
Oh, my sweet, magical Merlin's socks!
Overcome with sheer, blinding excitement, Regulus actually lunged forward and pounced directly onto the completely bewildered, highly confused Sirius.
Sirius was caught entirely off guard, letting out a highly undignified squawk as he received a massive, bone-crushing hug from his usually reserved brother!
"Thank you! Thank you so much!" Regulus practically yelled, shaking Sirius's shoulders. "Sirius, you're not just the Dog Star! You are my absolute, undisputed Lucky Star!"
Oh, Regulus thought, his mind racing with terrifying, world-breaking possibilities as he stared at the radio. The upcoming term at Hogwarts is going to be incredibly, unbelievably interesting.