Waiting for Someone to Jump Out
The silence lasted for a moment, then the murmurs rose again.
This time, all the houses' eyes, intentionally or unintentionally, were drawn to the Slytherin table —angry, wary, dissatisfied, and inquisitive.
The Slytherin students met these gazes, some even deliberately straightening their backs.
Several fifth-grade boys bumped shoulders with smiles on their faces.
When they looked at the Muggle-born students at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Table, their eyes were like those of people looking at items in a display case—a mixture of curiosity and, more importantly, cruelty.
Regulus looked away and continued eating his toast.
Avery folded the newspaper and put it back on the table, then stopped eating breakfast.
His father, Sebastian Cuthbert, served in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, where he was in charge of handling emergencies involving the exposure of Magic in the Muggle world—a high-ranking position.
The Cuthbert family belonged to the Rationalist Faction; they endorsed Pure-blood, believing that Pure-bloods possessed superior talent and purer bloodlines, and should therefore occupy Dominant Position.
However, Rationalist Faction do not advocate violent purges.
They believed that Half-bloods could be accepted, while Muggle-borns needed to be strictly vetted. They argued that extreme measures would only damage the reputation of Pure-bloods and cause the Neutral Faction faction within the Ministry of Magic to side with them.
Avery was raised with this kind of education; he despised people of impure blood, thinking them dirty and ignorant of the traditions and rules of the Wizarding World.
But he wouldn't want to see them die in their home, nor would he think that Attacks the family of a Ministry of Magic official was something to celebrate.
Alex was restless, picking up his fork and putting it down again. The oatmeal had gone cold, and a film had formed on the surface.
Roxier's side branch has a low status and is considered marginal in the Pure-blood Circle.
This situation made him exceptionally sensitive to conflict; any shift in the wind could drag his small family into it and then crush them.
Hermes remained indifferent. After finishing his scrambled eggs, he wiped his mouth with a napkin, folded it, and placed it neatly beside the plate.
The Attacks was like a distant forest fire to him—he could see the smoke, but it wouldn't reach him.
Dark Arts, violence, casualties—these were, in his mind, part of the display of power, not something that warranted extra emotion.
Regulus finished the last sip of Pumpkin Juice and stood up.
Avery, Alex, Hermes stood up as well, and as the four of them crossed the long table, they were met with various stares.
Regulus kept his eyes straight ahead, the hem of his robe dragging on the stone floor with a soft scraping sound.
He knew this would escalate.
Similar news has been appearing in the newspapers all the time, but to the young wizard, it's something from the outside world, something beyond the veil of reality.
But today that promise was torn apart; the Attacks happened to the classmate's parents. That classmate sat right next to them, attending classes and eating meals together.
The sense of distance disappeared.
Hogwarts is about to be anything but quiet.
In the History of Magic class, Professor Binns read from the textbook in a flat, monotone voice.
The sunlight outside the window was so bright that it made me drowsy.
Regulus sensed his gaze.
Two Ravenclaw boys turned to look at him from a slightly forward angle, their expressions complex.
Regulus didn't look up. The two turned back, speaking in hushed tones, fragments of words drifting over. "... Slytherin... must know..."
The Dismissal Bell, Professor Binns disappeared through the blackboard. Students poured out of the classroom, crowding the Corridor.
On her way back to the Slytherin common room, Narcissa emerged from the side passage.
"Regulus," she called softly.
Avery and the others looked over, and Regulus nodded to them to go first, then turned to Narcissa.
She pulled him to the armor on one side of the Corridor, a spot with a wide view, where people coming from both sides could be seen in advance, and it was less likely that their conversation would be overheard.
"The atmosphere outside has changed," Narcissa said bluntly.
Today she wore a dark green robe with a Black Family Crest Brooch at the collar, and her hair was neatly styled in a bun.
"Both sides are holding their tongues, but it won't last long. The Hardline Faction in the Ministry of Magic are waiting for an excuse, and so is the other side."
As she spoke, her eyes were on Regulus, while her peripheral vision swept across both ends of the Corridor.
"If someone contacts you next, trying to get you involved in something," she said softly, "Think it through before you decide. Some things, once you step in, you can't get out."
Narcissa offered no specific advice, neither suggesting participation nor avoiding it.
She simply laid out the situation, leaving the rest to Regulus to decide.
Regulus nodded. "Thank you, cousin, I understand."
Narcissa reached out and straightened his collar, but it wasn't actually messed up at all.
After she finished, she withdrew her hand, turned and left, her blonde hair dazzling in the sunlight.
Prefer fantasy? Click to enter your personal book library!
Regulus returned to the Common Room.
The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, and several older students were discussing something by the fire, their voices both subdued and excited.
He sat down on the sofa by the window, where the green light shimmered beneath the surface of the Black Lake.
The Attacks on the Thorne family may not be complicated in itself.
The Death Eaters wanted to warn the uncooperative officials in the Ministry of Magic, to demonstrate their power, and to show everyone the consequences of not taking sides.
This kind of thing has happened before, and it will happen again.
This kind of thing has happened before, and it will happen again.
Snape mentioned before that there were voices inside Slytherin, Cleaning the Trash.
In retrospect, the two events may be related.
When the Daily Prophet printed out photos of the Thorne family along with descriptions of traces of Dark Arts and distributed them to every student, it was like a bombshell.
Some people might interpret the Attacks as a clear signal.
Those Pure-bloods young wizards who weren't quite clear-headed, those middle-aged students who were always eager to prove themselves, and those fanatics who believed that Pure-bloods honor should be written with violence.
They will use this as a rallying cry to cleanse the Mudblood, the Muggle-borns, and all those who taint the Magic bloodline.
Slogans can be shouted with great righteousness, and actions can be taken very quickly.
Regulus had no doubt that this group was capable of doing it; once people are in a group, their minds tend to stop working.
Individual judgment gives way to the emotions of the group, and reason is drowned out by slogans.
Normal people, when they get together, incite each other, and have a couple of glasses of Firewhisky, dare to go out in the Corridor with their wands and ambush people.
But the person in charge is definitely not stupid.
The person behind this group, giving instructions and planning the operation, is not just a simple fanatic.
Sickle has little to do with the purity of his bloodline; he wants status.
It refers to the voice within Slytherin, the influence among upperclassmen, and even the weight among Death Eaters reserves.
He might be doing these things to impress a high-ranking Death Eaters, or he might be directly pledging allegiance to Voldemort.
Voldemort is indeed now contacting graduating seniors, Regulus even knows that several seventh-year students have already been branded with the Dark Mark on their Left Arm.
That thing is not just a tattoo, but a contract, a locator, proof of identity, and a mark etched into the soul.
It binds scattered individuals into an organization, emphasizing with shared symbols that we are on the same side.
For a young wizard, the allure of this sense of belonging is too great.
You are no longer an isolated individual; you belong to a more powerful collective with noble ideals.
Revive the glory of Pure-bloods and reshape the order of the Wizarding World.
You can find companions, recognition, and a sense of purpose within it.
Even if the ideology requires you to hurt others, even if the group might ultimately use you as cannon fodder, in the moment, the feeling of being needed is enough to make people ignore the cost.
This is brainwashing, but it's done very skillfully.
It doesn't even force you; it only lures you in, showing you the glamorous side while concealing the dark side.
Once you step inside, you realize that your escape route has been cut off.
Regulus had an unusually quiet year in Slytherin; no one dared to provoke him or test his limits.
This calm is abnormal in itself; conflict is bound to happen sooner or later, it's just a matter of time.
Someone will definitely step forward.
It's possible that they wanted to create conflict and bring the sparks of an off-campus conflict onto the school grounds.
Perhaps it's to climb the ladder by stepping on Regulus's reputation; look, I dare to challenge the Heir of the Black family.
Perhaps it was simply to show Voldemort, to prove that he was more worthy of being groomed than the less fanatical youngest son of the Black family.
The Black family certainly had enemies.
But Regulus needed this opportunity.
Whether they're a complete idiot, a cunning schemer, someone with a grudge against the Black family, or simply someone who dislikes his face, it doesn't matter who it is.
If the opponent makes the first move, Regulus can use that as an excuse to his advantage.
Keeping the conflict within a certain framework can demonstrate strength, eliminate potential threats, and draw a line for those who are watching from the sidelines.
Don't mess with me.
But these calculations are all minor details; what truly matters is power.
Regulus's current hand consists partly of the Magic he possesses and partly of the Black family's influence.
The connections, businesses, and political capital of an ancient, Pureblood families.
Ultimately, the latter depends on the former; if he himself is not strong enough, no matter how powerful his family is, he is just a background figure.
Strength is the foundation of everything.