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Regulus highly openly, completely casually pulled out the thick, black book from the Restricted Section shelf and confidently carried it to the nearest dusty reading table.
Heh, Regulus thought, sitting down. Let me exactly see what terrifying secrets this massive book holds to make a Professor sweat.
Perfectly, mockingly mimicking Slughorn's terrified stance from the previous night, he cautiously held his hawthorn wand in his left hand, pointing it defensively, and slowly reached out to physically open the heavy cover of the book in front of him with his right.
Unexpectedly—the thick, cursed book absolutely didn't scream or bite his fingers off. It only trembled very weakly under his touch, showing absolutely zero violent or aggressive magical reaction, and completely, passively obediently allowed itself to be opened.
The short, philosophical preface printed on the very first parchment page was elegantly written in classical Latin—
"The Soul, the single most evenly distributed thing in the entire world, inherently possesses absolutely all the completeness I can ever possibly imagine."
Regulus raised an aristocratic eyebrow, finding the quote highly interesting. He nodded slightly in philosophical agreement, then rapidly turned the heavy pages to the table of contents—
[Table of Contents] The True Nature of Thought Blood Magic and the Core The Pump of the Heart The Window of Vision The Independent Soul The Complete Soul The Immortality of the Soul Appendix: The Darkness Slumbering Within
Regulus quickly, efficiently skimmed through the massive chapters, but found that the actual content of the book was entirely different from what he had originally, darkly imagined—the entire ancient book extensively, theoretically discussed the concept of Soul Power, deeply exploring its biological essence, its magical operation, and its psychological influence... but the actual, physical practical instructions on how to weaponize it were pitifully, safely few. It honestly read vastly more like a dense, highly academic work of magical philosophy research rather than a spellbook.
But in any case, Regulus concluded, flipping the pages, it is definitely, absolutely not a highly lethal Dark Arts combat manual.
He simply turned directly to the final appendix at the back of the book—
"We wizards are undeniably powerful entirely because of our magic, but we also constantly face the terrifying, corrupting temptation of absolute magic—this is the true darkness slumbering silently within every single wizard."
"Some highly ambitious, ancient wizards have historically pointed out that 'when magical blood is physically diluted, it carries a dark power that rises from the physical heart directly to the brain,' and that 'this absolute darkness naturally possesses immense, world-breaking power.' The original author of this text once vehemently refuted this specific method as a twisted, crooked path to power, and the writer firmly believes—Wizards absolutely cannot casually change the fundamental, biological laws of existence at will. However, throughout bloody history, many power-hungry Wizards have relentlessly, aggressively pursued this highly specific method of permanently increasing their magical power; they even eventually found a—"
The heavy parchment page violently, abruptly stopped right there.
A Horcrux?
Regulus rubbed his nose, showing a deeply puzzled, analytical expression—
So... wait. This entire massive book just extensively, boringly talks about theoretical soul power, but the highly lethal, actual practical content that was violently torn out by Slughorn as the "essence" was actually entirely hidden in the very final appendix?
The heavy black book on the table violently twitched again under his hands, acting exactly like a half-dead, injured animal. Regulus cast a highly regretful, pitying look at the ruined artifact.
Directly behind his chair, a tall, bony figure tip-toed across the stone floor, aggressively approaching him as completely silently as a stalking cat.
Of course, with his passive Eagle Vision, Regulus had absolutely, perfectly noticed her highly aggressive approach long, long ago—
Irma Pince, the terrifying Librarian.
"Mr. Black! Exactly what highly restricted book are you reading right now?!" The librarian's stern, sharp voice suddenly sounded coldly right behind his ear.
"Ah! Good morning, Madam Pince!" Regulus turned around and immediately, flawlessly showed a highly polite, perfectly proper, bright pureblood smile.
Then, utilizing his absolute mastery of manipulation, he deliberately, physically relaxed his tense shoulders, let out a massive, highly exaggerated long breath, and put on a flawless facial expression of profound, overwhelming relief. "Oh, thank Merlin you're here. I was actually just about to go looking for you—"
Madam Pince stopped dead. She frowned deeply, highly suspiciously, her sharp, vulture-like gaze violently sweeping across the open pages on the table—
Then, her stern expression suddenly, violently changed.
"You—what in Merlin's name did you do!?" She almost violently shrieked, her bony finger physically trembling as she aggressively pointed directly at the violently torn, jagged edge of the damaged page. "You... how absolutely dare you!?"
She suddenly, aggressively rushed forward, shoving him aside. She carefully, desperately slammed the heavy book closed, and violently clutched the damaged tome tightly to her chest with absolute, profound heartache. Her eyes were completely full of murderous fury—seeing exactly how violently agitated she was, honestly looking as if she were actively about to pull out her wand to physically strike him, Regulus immediately, smoothly raised both his hands in the air, instantly assuming an utterly flawless, highly innocent posture of surrender:
"Madam, I swear to you on my magic, it was absolutely not me!" His aristocratic tone was completely, flawlessly sincere. "When I legally found this book resting on the bottom shelf, it was absolutely already exactly like this."
"You..." Madam Pince scanned him sharply, aggressively up and down, her eyes full of venom, clearly completely unwilling to easily believe a Slytherin. But indeed, standing entirely calmly before her was merely a twelve-year-old, second-year student.
Her lingering, protective anger absolutely hadn't subsided. Her bony face was completely pale with sheer rage: "If you did this, Mr. Black, do absolutely not think of cowardly denying it to me. Hand over your wand immediately for inspection! I will personally go find your Head of House right now to arrange your expulsion!"
Regulus sighed heavily, cynically inwardly.
Honestly, how on earth is this highly volatile Madam Pince exactly like a poorly made powder keg, violently exploding at the absolute slightest touch?
He spoke highly helplessly, completely ignoring her threat, smoothly, aggressively diverting the political focus to a higher authority: "Madam Pince, I firmly, entirely believe this massive, highly destructive matter absolutely needs to be reported directly to the Headmaster immediately!"
Madam Pince was visibly startled, her wand dropping an inch. "The Headmaster? Why Albus?"
Regulus put on his absolute most sincere, his most deeply serious, and his most convincingly innocent expression. He looked her dead in the eye and said: "Madam... do you logically, truly think a highly restricted, heavily warded ancient book of this absolute, priceless level would be casually, violently torn apart by just anyone? Especially by me—I am merely a second-year student. I couldn't physically break the wards on that book if I tried."
Indeed... he is honestly still just a child. His magical core isn't nearly strong enough to bypass the preservation charms, Madam Pince reasoned, her furious expression finally softening slightly into deep concern.
"If even the most highly restricted, heavily guarded books in the library can be violently damaged right under your nose, what exactly will happen next?" Regulus pressed smoothly, planting the paranoia. "Will someone violently, deliberately tear up even more priceless books...? Ah—you absolutely wouldn't want the entire historical collection of the Restricted Section to be systematically, secretly destroyed by an unknown adult, would you?"
This... Madam Pince clutched the book tighter. Indeed, the priceless books were violently damaged, and she was completely, terrifyingly unaware of the breach. There was a massive, highly dangerous loophole currently in the security management of the Restricted Section— Madam Pince immediately began to deeply, nervously hesitate.
"This is absolutely no longer a simple, internal disciplinary matter for a single Head of House..." Regulus said, driving the nail in. "One could highly reasonably say it has already vastly exceeded your administrative jurisdiction, Madam. I firmly believe the Headmaster will absolutely, definitely want to personally, aggressively investigate a breach of this magnitude."
Madam Pince was visibly, heavily swayed by exactly what Regulus logically said, and she hesitated, entirely unsure of what to do next.
Just as he was speaking, the damaged copy of Potentia Animarum still clutched tightly in Madam Pince's arms trembled highly cooperatively, and a small, highly noticeable puff of foul, dark black smoke immediately emerged from the torn spine.
Seeing this, Regulus blinked, his expression perfectly showing deep, empathetic concern, and his tone became even vastly more earnest: "Madam... do you want me to safely run and report the breach to the gargoyle, or will you personally, bravely explain the security situation to the Headmaster yourself?"
Ten minutes later. Standing directly in front of the massive, rotating stone gargoyle at the highly guarded entrance to the Headmaster's office.
Madam Pince aggressively knocked on the heavy oak door, and a calm, echoing voice invited her in.
Albus Dumbledore, whose long beard and hair were not yet completely, entirely snow-white, sat perfectly upright behind his massive mahogany desk, looking highly energetic. His sharp, piercing blue gaze instantly swept over a highly distressed Madam Pince, who was aggressively clutching a dark book, and then landed heavily on Regulus, who was completely casually, highly curiously looking around the cluttered office.
"Good morning to you, Irma," Dumbledore said with a warm, welcoming smile from behind his desk. His sharp, calculating gaze then completely turned directly to Regulus. "And good morning to you, Mr. Black."
The Headmaster truly possesses such an incredibly strong, suffocating magical aura, Regulus noted, feeling the ambient magic in the room pressing against his skin.
The strict librarian had actually, successfully brought the Slytherin second-year directly into the Headmaster's highly secure office. Because of this rare intrusion, absolutely all the painted portraits of the previous Headmasters were fully awake; those who had still been lazily dozing were violently poked awake by their painted companions. Absolutely all the ancient Headmasters cast highly curious, intense glances down at the boy, either directly staring or secretly peering from the edges of their frames.
Madam Pince curtsied highly awkwardly to the desk.
"Good morning to you, Headmaster. Good morning to the esteemed Headmasters on the walls. And good morning, Great-Great-Grandfather," Regulus replied flawlessly, executing a perfect, highly polite, pureblood aristocratic bow that encompassed the entire room.
Impeccably polite and highly observant— Phineas Nigellus Black nodded in massive, deep satisfaction from his painted frame.
"I presume you two have come to see me about something highly important?" Dumbledore asked, his piercing blue gaze fixed entirely, intensely on the black book currently clutched in Madam Pince's shaking arms.
"Uh... yes. It's exactly like this, Headmaster. I personally found Mr. Black highly suspiciously looking through a restricted book alone in the Restricted Section, and this specific book..." Madam Pince's voice physically trembled with pure, unadulterated outrage. "This priceless, ancient book has actually, violently been torn!"
She aggressively stepped forward and slammed the heavy black book directly onto the mahogany desk right in front of Dumbledore, then turned sharply back to violently, accusingly glare at Regulus.
"Black highly smoothly claims he absolutely didn't do it. But I honestly don't know who else it could be, Headmaster."
Dumbledore also briefly, sharply glanced at Regulus, while simultaneously, gently moving the damaged copy of Potentia Animarum closer to himself. He slowly reached out his long, pale fingers and gently, reverently stroked the violently torn, jagged pages. A highly distinct, terrifying hint of absolute, cold seriousness immediately appeared on his usually calm, grandfatherly face.
"What I am absolutely, fundamentally worried about is the physical security and safety of the entire Restricted Section—we really, absolutely cannot let these violent students look at the ancient books there freely anymore without supervision," Madam Pince complained loudly, wringing her hands.
"Irma," Dumbledore gently, but incredibly firmly interrupted her rant, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. "Mr. Black absolutely did not do this. This specific, violent residual magic currently clinging to the tear appears to be several days old. He is innocent."
Dumbledore's sharp, calculating gaze turned completely back to Regulus. "Mr. Black. Could you please, accurately tell me exactly what you found?"
Regulus blinked, meeting Dumbledore's intense, highly invasive gaze, and paused for a highly calculated moment.
He keenly, instantly noticed—the Headmaster's facial expression was currently surprisingly gentle, containing a highly distinct, manipulative hint of grandfatherly encouragement rather than hostile, paranoid scrutiny. It completely seemed that Dumbledore genuinely didn't currently consider the twelve-year-old a suspect in the vandalism.
Regulus smiled slightly, his expression perfectly open, and said highly frankly, "Please, just call me Regulus, Professor."
Dumbledore maintained his completely composed, grandfatherly expression, appearing utterly, terrifyingly unfathomable.
Regulus absolutely didn't delay the game. He pointed directly to the cursed book sitting on the desk: "Here is exactly, logically what happened: I personally know that some of the ancient books in the Restricted Section are highly volatile, alchemical creations themselves, so before I went in, I safely brought a highly calibrated alchemical diagnostic filter with me to check for curses—"
He reached deep into his winter robes, pulled out the thick crystal filter, and placed it completely flat on the wooden table—
Instantly, the highly sensitive crystal filter flashed completely, violently madly with blinding purple light, exactly as if it were aggressively reacting to absolutely every single highly enchanted, deeply magical object currently hidden in the entire Headmaster's office.
Regulus was genuinely, completely startled by the violent reaction—it seemed there were actually quite a massive, terrifyingly high few active, highly illegal alchemical projects currently hidden in the Headmaster's office.
He quickly, curiously glanced around the clutter, then looked directly back at Dumbledore. There genuinely seemed to be a very slight, highly amused smile playing at the corners of the Headmaster's mouth, but Regulus absolutely wasn't completely sure if it was just a trick of the light.
He smoothly continued: "My diagnostic filter heavily detected massive, raw magical fluctuations actively leaking from this specific book's spine. It scientifically seems the primary alchemical containment mark was violently damaged by the tear."
"But before I could carefully, safely check the damage, Madam Pince found me."
Speaking of this, he deliberately paused slightly, shifting his tone to sound entirely full of innocent, academic curiosity:
"Professor—was this specific book ever historically subjected to any highly special, deeply dark magic?"
Do you, Albus Dumbledore, actually know exactly anything about the terrifying truth of this book?