For 30 + advance chapter: patreon.com/Snowing_Melody
Regulus ended up spending a full, highly exhausting hour inside the Headmaster's office.
When he finally stepped out from behind the gargoyle, he had a massive, ancient, heavily warded book on 'Advanced Alchemical Runes' securely tucked under his left arm. He had a staggeringly long, highly complex list of required, theoretical reading materials permanently burned into his mind. He had a literal handful of sticky, bright yellow sherbet lemons unceremoniously shoved into his right robe pocket. And somehow, through sheer, manipulative charisma, he had actually managed to casually, politely hustle the Headmaster out of two different, priceless alchemical quills and a highly expensive, military-grade Foe-Glass.
Even after stepping fully out of the Headmaster's office and into the cold stone corridor, Regulus still felt slightly, profoundly dizzy.
Did I... did I accidentally drink a massive vial of Felix Felicis this morning without realizing it?
Regulus gave a highly rare, completely silly, unburdened grin directly at the stone gargoyle standing guard outside the office. He pulled the thick, officially signed parchment permission slip from his pocket and stared at Dumbledore's looping signature, actively confirming reality again. He honestly completely couldn't believe it—
Albus Dumbledore actually, formally gave him highly advanced, theoretical Alchemy homework to complete?!
This... this this... this was the legendary Albus Dumbledore.
"Hehe." The current, highly giddy Regulus completely, entirely ignored the massive, crushing mountain of administrative and corporate tasks currently waiting for him.
Just another highly fanatical, deeply manipulated potential fan of Headmaster Dumbledore, the sentient stone gargoyle thought cynically. The gargoyle had long since gotten entirely used to seeing this exact, dazed expression on students' faces. It merely glanced sideways at the boy and completely couldn't be bothered to verbally respond.
Hehe.
Walking down the stairs, Regulus even genuinely felt a microscopic bit of deep, internal self-reproach for his previous, highly paranoid, intense tactical wariness towards old Dumbledore...
As for the official permission note written by the Headmaster himself? Well, Madam Pince hadn't even physically seen the slip yet before it was violently snatched, passed around, and aggressively, reverently rubbed over and over at least three hundred times by an utterly astounded Severus, Sirius, James, Remus, and the rest of the gang in the Room of Requirement... And many, many bloody years later, this exact, crinkled parchment note was carefully, beautifully framed behind unbreakable glass and heavily treasured, permanently hung on the drawing room wall at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place—
But of course, that is a highly dramatic story for another time.
After the massive sugar rush of the Halloween feast, the freezing weather turned sharply into early November. The highly anticipated, brutally violent first Quidditch match of the season officially began.
November 10th. A freezing Saturday, coincidentally directly aligning with the terrifying cycle of the full moon.
The brutal opening match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw violently coincided with absolutely terrible, freezing Scottish weather: suffocatingly low, dark grey clouds, terrifyingly strong, howling crosswinds, and heavy, blinding snowflakes drifting aggressively down from the sky—
For the airborne Quidditch players desperately trying to spot a tiny golden ball, having freezing, sharp snowflakes constantly fly directly into their watering eyes absolutely must not feel good. But, as any Gryffindor would loudly argue, this brutal struggle against the elements is also an inherent, vital part of the highly exciting, masculine charm of outdoor magical sports.
Regulus sat comfortably, heavily bundled up in the Slytherin stands. He was currently actively, passively activating his Eagle Vision, heavily summoning his golden eagles to aggressively circle high above the freezing Quidditch Pitch. Now, deeply connected to their sight, he could flawlessly, simultaneously process multiple, highly dynamic aerial visuals. His tactical field of vision was astonishingly, terrifyingly wide, operating exactly like a highly advanced, multi-threaded modern computer processor.
The shivering little wizards in the stands, especially the highly observant Ravenclaw students, actively pointed up at the massive, terrifying eagles soaring with their golden wings spread in the stormy sky. Many highly curious, deeply admiring gazes were constantly, secretly directed at the incredibly composed, aristocratic Regulus sitting quietly in the cold.
"Excuse me! Thank you... please, excuse me, coming through!" A highly familiar, bright voice suddenly pierced clearly through the howling wind and snow, clearly audible over the roaring crowd.
"Ivy? Exactly why are you over here?" little Jacob Frye, sitting directly in front of Regulus, turned back in massive, genuine surprise.
Regulus lowered his dark head and looked sideways. He saw Jacob's twin sister, the fiercely intelligent little witch from Ravenclaw, looking directly up at him as she squeezed past the older Slytherins—her rosy little face was flushed from fiercely facing the biting wind and snow. Her dark brown hair and the long, elegant blue-and-bronze ribbon on her heavy winter robe collar were violently blown behind her by the wind, perfectly, beautifully matching her clear, massive blue eyes.
Regulus immediately offered a highly friendly, polite aristocratic smile. Ivy slowly blinked, her cheeks flushing deeper, and she showed her teeth in a brilliant, genuine smile. A highly sweet, profound amusement spread rapidly from her bright eyes, reaching deep into her dimples.
She is genuinely, undeniably really beautiful, Regulus thought objectively.
High up on the wooden commentary platform, an older Gryffindor prefect—one of the many loud Weasleys—was currently highly energetically, aggressively commentating on the confusing match lineup through a magical megaphone. Regulus was just about to politely turn his tactical attention back to the freezing pitch when he clearly saw Ivy reach into her robes and pull out two thick glass bottles from her magically expanded small bag. Her bright gaze quickly, nervously glanced towards him.
"Ivy! Did you actually, illegally manage to bring hot mulled wine?!" Jacob's eyes immediately lit up with sheer joy. He aggressively reached out his freezing hands to eagerly take the thick bottle containing the steaming red liquid—this incredibly sweet, violently warm grape drink heavily spiced with cloves and cinnamon, with absolutely all the alcohol safely evaporated, was his absolute favorite winter treat.
However, under Jacob's highly puzzled, betrayed gaze, Ivy's gloved hand actually drew back slightly, physically dodging her twin brother. She hesitated for a highly nervous moment before finally, reluctantly handing only one of the two bottles to him.
Then, operating entirely under the profoundly shocked, wide-eyed expressions of her brother Jacob, and the highly jealous, intense glares of many older Slytherin little witches sitting nearby, she confidently walked directly over to Regulus and boldly sat down on the wooden bench right beside him.
Huh? What exactly is this? The Slytherin girls glared. This Gryffindor-lite eagle is aggressively trying to steal our Slytherin's absolute best 'prize catch' right in front of us...
"Regulus... this specific one is for you," Ivy said softly, handing the heavy, steaming bottle over to him. She added with a highly bright, nervous smile, "This is actually our strict family's highly traditional winter drink. It's incredibly warm and delicious, and I personally added a highly sustained, complex Warming Charm to the glass so it won't freeze."
As she handed him the bottle, Regulus noticed that the little witch wore highly unique, fingerless tactical gloves made of dark grey, incredibly expensive dragon-hide leather, which looked physically strong, highly lethal, yet incredibly soft and supple for wand-work.
"Uh... well, okay. Thank you very much, Ivy," Regulus said, taking the hot glass. For the very first time in a long while, the smooth CEO was actually rarely at a slight loss for corporate words. He unscrewed the metal cap of the glass bottle, and the boiling, warm drink immediately emitted a highly peculiar, incredibly sweet, spicy aroma into the freezing air. With one cautious sip, a massive, brilliant warm current slid straight from his freezing mouth directly down to his stomach, making his entire body feel incredibly, profoundly comfortable and energized.
"Merlin, it's absolutely delicious!" Regulus exclaimed genuinely, looking at the red liquid in surprise. "You specifically added fresh, tart apple juice to the base reduction, didn't you?"
"You actually have an incredibly sharp, refined tongue," Ivy said with a brilliant, highly pleased smile. She proudly, nervously tucked a stray strand of dark hair firmly behind her freezing ear to casually reveal a highly unique, stunning red gem earring. "That specific ratio is actually my absolute secret recipe."
"You highly like The Tale of the Three Brothers, don't you?" Regulus made smooth, polite conversation, casually pointing his gloved finger at her dangling earring—there was a tiny, highly distinct triangular pattern intricately engraved directly onto the silver setting of the gem, barely visible without a very close, highly intense look.
"Ah..." Ivy looked back at him completely blankly, asking in genuine, profound Muggle-born confusion, "The Tale of the Three Brothers? What exactly is that?"
Ah, right. I almost entirely forgot, Regulus mentally kicked himself. The Frye twins are entirely Muggle-born. They don't know the pureblood lore.
"Children raised entirely in ancient wizarding families all grow up reading a specific, famous collection of highly moralistic fairy tales called The Tales of Beedle the Bard, exactly just like you likely grew up reading Andersen's Fairy Tales in the Muggle world," Regulus explained smoothly, covering his tracks.
"Oh! Wizarding fairy tales?" Ivy's massive blue eyes widened even further with intense academic curiosity.
"Yes," Regulus nodded, taking another sip of the hot wine. "The primary, highly fundamental difference is that the legendary heroes and tragic heroines depicted in wizarding fairy tales can actively perform incredibly powerful magic themselves to solve their problems, rather than relying on luck."
"So, the specific story of The Tale of the Three Brothers you just mentioned, is exactly about—?"
Regulus briefly, highly efficiently explained the canonical lore of the three Peverell brothers cheating Death to her over the roaring wind.
"Ah, I see! So, the specific triangle symbol you saw represents the youngest Peverell brother's flawless 'Invisibility Cloak'."
Ivy nodded in deep understanding. She reached up, unclasped the silver earring, spread it flat on her leather-gloved palm, and examined the tiny engraving highly closely for a long while:
"Hmm... I honestly don't think it actually has absolutely anything to do with the magical Deathly Hallows lore, but it undeniably does look very, very much exactly like the physical shape of a peaked hood."
She paused, a highly secretive, deeply proud smile playing on her rosy lips: "Actually, Regulus, this specific symbol is our ancient family crest... My strict aunt always tells us it's simply the biological mark left by an eagle's skull bleaching on the beach. But... some highly cynical people in our family constantly joke that it actually looks vastly more like the shape of the dark, pointed assassin's hood our family historically loves to wear..."
"Oh, right! I can show you the full crest." Ivy suddenly remembered something. She put the silver earring securely back on her ear, reached deep into her thick winter robes towards her neck, and aggressively pulled out a heavy, silver pendant necklace that had been completely hidden behind her collar.
The heavy, round silver pendant lay flat in her palm, deeply, flawlessly engraved with an enlarged, vastly clearer, highly detailed version of the triangular symbol—
An isosceles triangle, yes. But the base line cutting across the bottom was actually a highly distinct, sweeping, upward-curving blade.
Ivy smiled brilliantly and pointed a gloved finger directly at the sweeping curve, saying with a massive, undeniable hint of deep family pride:
"Look closely at the curve. Doesn't this specific angle look exactly like a lethal eagle aggressively spreading its wings to strike? Long before school even officially started, I absolutely, logically knew I would definitely be Sorted directly into Ravenclaw the second I saw their eagle crest!"
Regulus's long, pale fingers suddenly, violently tightened around the glass. He gripped it so incredibly hard he almost physically crushed the thick glass bottle directly in his hand!
His modern, Ubisoft gaming history knowledge might honestly not be absolutely perfect—Ubisoft's corporate game design lore is famously, notoriously convoluted, wildly imaginative, and it's probably gone through dozens of highly messy retcons and iterations. But he would absolutely, fundamentally never mistake the highly iconic, world-famous pattern currently resting on the palm before him—
This was absolutely, undeniably no magical Deathly Hallow symbol—
It was clearly, flawlessly the absolute, legendary Assassin's Creed Insignia!
His heart rate violently, aggressively quickened, thumping against his ribs. His dark gaze fixed incredibly tightly, terrifyingly intensely directly on Ivy:
"Your specific family surname...", Regulus paused, taking a deep breath, violently trying to force his trembling tone to sound completely, aristocratically calm, "Exactly how do you officially spell it?"
Although feeling a bit deeply confused by his sudden, terrifyingly intense intensity, Ivy still answered politely and obediently: "Frye. F-R-Y-E."
Regulus's mouth twitched slightly, entirely unable to stop a massive, highly disbelieving hint of deep, self-mocking amusement from breaking across his face—
Earlier, at the bonfire party, Ivy had even looked me dead in the eye and literally, highly dramatically said that her strict family motto was "Guardians absolutely must protect the innocent."
He absolutely hadn't thought in that highly specific, gaming-crossover direction at all.
Assassin's Creed: Syndicate.
Back in his past life, his English comprehension wasn't exceptionally good, so he had aggressively, exclusively played the fully translated Chinese version of the game—
The brutal game's historical setting was placed exactly in the gritty, smog-choked nineteenth century, Victorian-era London. And the two legendary, highly lethal main protagonist assassins of the game were the iconic twin siblings: Jacob Frye, and...
Evie Frye. (Translated and localized as Ivy).
Regulus's breath physically hitched slightly in his throat. His dark, calculating gaze fell heavily on the heavy silver Assassin's insignia resting on the little witch's palm, then slowly, intensely moved back up to look directly at the little witch sitting in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but completely, utterly couldn't immediately make a single sound.
Ivy's rosy cheeks flushed even redder under his intense, unblinking stare, but her clear, massive blue eyes looked completely, fearlessly straight back at him. She looked exactly as if she were completely, biologically unwilling to yield to his pressure, her gaze entirely transparent straight to the bottom of her soul.
Regulus's heart was beating incredibly, terrifyingly fast. His mind was frantically, violently recalling highly specific, bloody combat snippets and stealth mechanics from when he had obsessively played Assassin's Creed: Syndicate.
Was this fierce, brilliant little Ivy currently sitting right in front of him—a direct, biological descendant of the legendary Master Assassin, Evie Frye?!
Sweet Mother of Merlin, Regulus thought, his mind racing with lethal possibilities. Has the absolute, highly overpowered spring of 'gaming plug-ins and cheats' finally, officially arrived at Hogwarts?