Sean Needed Cannon Fodder

Regulus paused for a moment, then brought the porcelain cup full of expensive black tea to his lips, took a small sip, and said slowly, "Mr. Aiken, now it really is my turn to be confused..."

Looking at the other person's elegant posture, Old Man Aiken frowned imperceptibly. These England, even until their dying day, still cherish their elegance and the teacup they never put down.

He cleared his throat. "Black, we're all smart people, there's no need to play games, is there?"

Regulus didn't mind that the other person had repeated what he had just said. He still held his teacup elegantly. "It is precisely because of this frankness that I clearly told you that I don't understand."

This time it was Old Man Aiken's turn to be puzzled. According to his son's description, the tattoo on the imposter's forearm must be the Dark Mark. And from the information he knew, the Death Eaters, represented by the Dark Mark, were a Pure-blood radical organization within England, and their leaders were always shrouded in mystery.

Although the association behind him had once cooperated with the Death Eaters, Old Man Aiken did not know who the Death Eaters ' master was. He did, however, receive news of the disappearance of that divine master. There were two theories within the association: one was that the mysterious master was devoured by a backlash while studying some kind of terrible Dark Arts, causing his soul to dissipate; the other was that the man was destroyed by an extremely powerful wizard.

The Death Eaters have been relatively quiet for almost a year, and as far as Old Man Aiken knows, even their agents within the British Ministry of Magic have ceased to operate.

The man before him Regulus, was one of the leaders of the Death Eaters, which was why Old Man Aiken came to verify the Dark Mark immediately upon discovering it. However, Regulus's appearance certainly didn't seem to suggest he was lying.

Is he faking it?

Unsure of the other party's condition, Old Man Aiken hesitated for a while before deciding to explain his purpose.

"Black, I hope you don't forget the promises you made to the association." He said this, half-reminding and half-threatening, before recounting his son's experience.

Regulus gently stroked the smooth teacup and said slowly, "The promise will certainly not be forgotten, but the specifics have always been decided by the master... and I don't understand what you mean by 'return,' the master has never left."

Stubborn... Old Man Aiken wasn't going to expose him. He said, "That's perfect... but how do you explain the Dark Mark?"

Regulus replied, "That's not one of our members— Old Man Aiken, take your suspicious look away. We have no reason to harm your son. What's the purpose? What's the benefit?"

Who knows? Your master is a neurotic guy... Old Man Aiken thought to himself, not believing the other party's words. He had already decided to spend a lot of money to have someone examine his son properly when he got back.

"Black, whether you did it or not, I came here specifically to remind you—"

"Thank you for the reminder..." Regulus narrowed his eyes slightly, "But Death Eaters never accept threats..."

Old Man Aiken chuckled inwardly, somewhat disdainful of the other party's behavior.

Even with its master nowhere to be found, it still insists on maintaining that pathetic sense of self-respect...

He never really looked down on the British Wizarding World. Old Man Aiken always believed that, apart from Dumbledore, there were no wizards in all of England worth taking seriously.

Looking at the Black Family before him, he wouldn't have bothered to establish a relationship with them if it weren't for the cooperative relationship between the Association and the Death Eaters, and if their bloodline wasn't ancient and pure enough—after the Death Eaters ' master went missing, the relationship between the two sides had already begun to fade.

When Old Man Aiken came in, he also saw the decorations in the other party's house. Unlike his own luxurious and spacious mansion, this place was gloomy and old-fashioned, and the other party didn't seem to have much intention of making changes.

Just like the elderly House-elves who came up to serve tea, the ancient Pure-blood families only had such a servant, and didn't even have a powerful wizard hired to guard their mansion.

According to Old Man Aiken's understanding, the Black Family was not an exception; most Pure-blood families in England were like this—poor, even the famous Malfoy Family.

Don't they have Galleon? No.

These England, however, lacked sufficient awareness of potential threats and failed to utilize their ancestral wealth to expand their power and influence.

In France, even a few fallen Pure-blood families still have a much grander presence than the England, at least they have recruited a few outstanding wizards within their families.

Speaking of which, it also has a lot to do with Mr. Grindelwald...

The mere thought of that name made Old Man Aiken feel an itch in his bare left wrist, hidden beneath his robe, and a sense of dread began to creep into his heart.

Back when the powerful wizard Grindelwald was still the First Generation Dark Lord, not the Headmaster of Newmontgard, he wreaked havoc, and most of the world had experienced his terror. These lucky yet unlucky England escaped because Mr. Dumbledore stood behind them— Grindelwald, who was ravaging Europe, did not lead his Saints to set foot on Scotland soil.

This was considered lucky back then, but over the years, foreign wizards who have experienced true power have all grown, while these unfortunate England —remembering that glory is commendable, but indulging in glory without improving themselves is truly foolish.

These thoughts flashed through his mind, Regulus, sitting opposite him, maintained his calm and composed expression.

Knowing that further discussion was pointless, Old Man Aiken stood up. "I'll say it again, I'm only here to remind you of one thing—if it really is Mr. Black failed to control his idiots..."

He leaned forward slowly, his tone laced with threat. "When the idiot is hanging from the ceiling, please don't get agitated, Mr. Black."

Regulus put down his teacup, straightened up, and lightly shook hands with the other man. "Please make yourself at home..."

Old Man Aiken gave the other person one last look before hurriedly leaving.

After seeing the other person off, Regulus frowned deeply and turned back to his room on the fifth floor.

This is his... the bedroom he shared with his brother Sirius when they were teenagers, a place he never moved out of even after he truly inherited the Black Family.

Regulus paced back and forth in his room for a while, seemingly hesitating about something.

After hesitating for a while, he lowered his head and gently rolled up his long sleeves, revealing the Dark Mark on his forearm still clearly visible.

He stared at the mark for a long time, then finally made some kind of decision, and then disappeared with a loud bang.

That night, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England.

"An unfamiliar Death Eaters? You mean, Master has recovered?!" Lestrange suddenly stood up at the long table.

Her body trembled slightly with excitement, and her eyes bulged out as she stared intently.

Lucius Malfoy looked calmly at Regulus opposite him, but his right hand, which was holding a cane, kept rubbing it, clearly indicating that he was not at peace with himself.

Regulus said in a deep voice, "It's just a message, but the master's condition cannot be clearly explained."

"Perhaps it's some kind of signal—" Lestrange was pacing back and forth behind his chair. "He, he may be in some kind of predicament. He needs me, he needs his loyal servant!"

Looking at the fanatical Lestrange, Malfoy exchanged a glance with his wife, then lightly tapped his cane. "Bella, this matter needs careful investigation..."

"An investigation?!" Lestrange interrupted her brother-in-law, her eyes wide and her face cold. "Lucius, how long has it been since our master left, and you've already changed your tune?"

"Ha—" she chuckled sharply, "Is this Malfoy Family tradition?!"

"Bella— " Lucius seemed a little afraid of his wife's sister. His tone was serious but always carried a hint of flattery. "No one can question my loyalty to my master! But if my master suddenly disappears at a crucial moment, you must consider whether this is a scheme by an enemy to lure us out!"

"An excuse!" Lestrange shouted. "Only he can use Master's Dark Mark. It's impossible for it to be imitated, otherwise Master would be able to pinpoint that person's exact location!"

Lucius wanted to say that perhaps their master was no longer capable of sensing things?

He touched his right forearm, his face looking rather pale.

"Then how are we supposed to contact our master?! That spell is supposed to be a one-way communication between the master and us. After our master went missing, we did try our best to activate the mark to contact him, but there was no response!"

Lestrange screamed, "Try it again! Try it again, try it again!"

As she spoke, she burst into a shrill laugh, "My dear sister and brother-in-law, if you can't help me, I'll go find Barty Jr. Crouch., whose loyalty to his master is second only to mine."

The Malfoy couple ' expressions hardened further. They knew Barty Jr. Crouch Jr. well—a clever yet fanatical madman. If he found out about this news, someone in the Ministry of Magic would likely be Imperius Curse again.

"Don't cause him any trouble. His father is already preparing to run for the new minister, which will be a huge boost for us!"

"Everything depends on the master's return! Lucius, don't think I don't know! The master asked you to plant people in the Ministry of Magic, isn't it because you feel bad about spending all those Galleon on bribes while the master is missing?!"

"You!"

Seeing that Lestrange had already drawn his wand, Regulus reluctantly stood up to stop the two. After a moment of thought, he said, "We can try. If our master really returns and needs a little help, that will be the best moment to prove our loyalty."

Lestrange was fairly convinced of Regulus, and finally gave a cold snort, indicating that he would not pursue the matter for the time being.

In this atmosphere, paying a price to trigger the mark has become the Death Eaters ' latest mission.

In Newmontgard Castle, Sean, half-reclining on the bed, yawned and closed a book. He had recently been learning advanced Transfiguration, making encouraging progress but also expending a lot of energy.

He pulled the covers up, preparing to go to sleep early tonight.

Suddenly, he felt a warm sensation on his right forearm, and a woman's soft voice called out in his mind.

"Hmm?" Sean raised his right hand in confusion, but the information in his mind made his expression strange.

"My esteemed master, do you need your servant now?"

"That voice... sounds familiar..." Sean frowned and thought. He was sure he had heard that voice somewhere before, but he couldn't quite remember where.

Of course, this was not the most surprising thing to him. What surprised him the most was that the warmth he felt and the call in his mind all came from the Dark Mark.

To be precise, it comes from a disappeared marker.

Riddle's Soul Fragment initially attempted to invade Sean's Inner World, but ended up becoming his little library.

Sean thus mastered many high-level Dark Arts, and at the same time, descriptions of the Dark Mark entered his mind.

Riddle truly lived up to his reputation as a genius; after learning about the Dark Mark, Sean discovered its amazing properties.

The spell was created by Riddle and can be planted on the forearm of Death Eaters. It is a mark of the Death Eaters and also a means of communication.

The Dark Mark is a one-way communication spell. Only the caster can use the mark to notify other Death Eaters. This communication is one-way, and there are only a few costly ways for Death Eaters to contact Riddle. Moreover, once the Dark Mark is placed, it cannot be removed.

Of course, Sean, who understands the nature of this curse, can break it, just like before.

When he disguised himself as a student of Newmontgard, he planted Dark Mark on himself, partly to divert the other party's attention and shift the blame, and partly to investigate Riddle's current state.

With Grindelwald by his side, Sean didn't have to worry about being targeted by the dying Riddle —and after fully understanding the spells, he had the same authority as Riddle regarding the Dark Mark.

To Sean's surprise, he had never received any messages from the Dark Mark before, and he removed the mark himself after kidnapping Fabian Aiken.

After thinking for a while, Sean understood the reason and also remembered the identity of the Caller.

Bellatrix Lestrange, she really is a Death Eaters after all...

"The news has been leaked..." Sean frowned and began to think.

He waited for a while, but no more news came. Riddle couldn't sense his control over the mark, and naturally, he couldn't sense the other party's either.

Somewhat hesitant, Sean eventually went to Grindelwald.

The headmaster of Newmontgard simply smiled and left him with one sentence, "Go ahead and do it... Your power includes trusted confidants, and naturally, it also includes cannon fodder..."

Sean was shocked to understand what Grindelwald meant. He wanted him to control the Death Eaters?!

What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to pretend to be Tom Riddle?

Wait a minute, it seems like that might actually be a viable option...

Sean narrowed his eyes, and alone in the underground classroom, he raised his wand and then replanted the Dark Mark on his arm.

"Let's wait and see tonight, and see if any more news comes through..." Sean muttered to himself.

That night, Lestrange's faint voice rang out again.