The Anonymous Letter Wasn't Anonymous

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Alex's ears turned red, he lowered his head, then raised it again, his eyes sparkling.

Avery nudged him with his elbow, and the two looked at each other. Avery's eyes held a more equal and acknowledging look.

Regulus nodded to himself. Sure enough, children who fight together improve their relationships the fastest.

Sharing a conflict, especially the feeling of winning, is more effective than a hundred nice words.

He turned to Hermes, but instead of patting him on the shoulder, he simply nodded.

Hermes nodded in response with feigned composure, but his tightly pursed lips betrayed his effort to maintain his expression.

Regulus pulled two small glass bottles from his pocket and tossed them to Avery and Alex. The bottles arced through the air as the two scrambled to catch them.

"Dittany Essence," Regulus said, "Apply it yourself."

Avery unscrewed the bottle, poured out a little clear ointment, and applied it to the corner of his eye. The cooling sensation made him squint comfortably.

Alex copied him, applying the ointment to the bruises on his calves. The ointment worked quickly, and the purplish-red color under the skin visibly faded.

This minor matter ended there. Regulus didn't ask about the specifics, who hit whom, or how many threats the other party had made.

Avery wanted to speak, but seeing Regulus already walking towards the wooden table in the center of the Training Room, he shut his mouth and swallowed his words.

Each person begins their practice.

Perhaps because his excitement from tonight hadn't subsided, Alex's Shield Charm showed significant improvement.

He raised his wand, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, his gaze was focused.

"Protego."

Silver Light surged from the tip of the staff, quickly extending into a semi-transparent barrier. The edges of the barrier undulated noticeably, and its shape was not entirely regular, but this time it took shape.

Although it only lasted for five seconds before shattering into Light Point, it was a significant improvement compared to before when it couldn't even reassemble itself.

Avery wanted to test the barrier's strength, so he took three steps back and tapped his wand. "Impedimenta!"

The red light struck the barrier, causing it to shake violently and develop spiderweb-like cracks on its surface, but it held up and did not break.

The barrier didn't completely collapse until Avery added a second Slowing Charm.

Alex was panting, sweat beading on his forehead, but his eyes shone brighter as he stared at his wand as if he were seeing it for the first time.

Regulus stood by the wooden table, watching, a thought flashing through his mind.

When emotions are intense, Magic reactions are more direct, especially for young wizards.

The young wizard's control over Magic Power is not refined, and the structure of his spells is unstable. However, when his emotions are strong, his will to accomplish something becomes exceptionally clear, Magic Power flows along with his will, automatically compensating for his lack of skill.

When Alex cast the Shield Charm, he was definitely thinking about what he was trying to block. That sense of urgency overcame his usual self-doubt, so the spell worked.

We can organize more of these kinds of activities in the future. They don't have to be fighting; they can be other things, like competitions, challenges, or simulated combat.

Let your emotions ignite, let your Magic Power boil, and practice in that state might be far more effective than simply reciting spells from a textbook.

Of course, one must be careful not to lose control of one's emotions, as this could lead to a loss of control over Magic Power, or even result in Dark Arts or permanent damage. One must be mindful of the situation.

Regulus snapped out of his thoughts and began his own practice.

Tonight we'll practice the Fiendfyre.

He took out a metal box from the drawer of the wooden table. It was prepared by the Room of Requirement according to his needs, and it contained small flammable materials for practice.

He poured a few pieces of wood, a wad of cotton, and a small bottle of grease onto the table.

Then he raised his hand.

The incantation structure of the Fiendfyre Curse was already ingrained in his consciousness; he only needed to evoke specific emotions.

Recalling the despair of the Astronomy Tower's Grey Mist, the oppressive feeling brought by Voldemort, and the consequences of failure, these negative emotions became fuel.

The Magic Power began to stir.

He held his palm up, his fingers loosely clenched, and a tiny orange-red flame appeared out of thin air three inches above his fingertips.

The flame was very small, only the size of a fingernail, with a bright white core and a golden tinge at the edges.

The temperature was kept under control so well that even the hairs on his palms didn't curl.

control.

With a slight thought, the flame began to Transfiguration.

It stretches from a spherical shape into a thin line, which then twists and grows a head, body, and tail.

A few seconds later, a fire Fire Serpent the size of a matchstick hovered in the palm of the hand, its body undulating, its head raised, as if it were flicking its tongue.

Although it had no signal, the Fiendfyre mimicked that posture.

The Fiendfyre Little Snakes crawled between his five fingers.

Starting from the index finger, it wraps around to the middle finger, then slides to the ring finger, with the tail brushing between the little finger's fingers.

The temperature of the Fiendfyre was kept within a safe range; the skin could feel the warmth, but it wasn't enough to cause burns.

This control required him to divide his consciousness into two streams: one to maintain the form of the Fiendfyre, and the other to suppress the Fiendfyre's instinctive desire to devour.

Fiendfyre has life, but it is not true life; it is more like the inherent tendency of Magic creation.

It wants to burn, to spread, to turn everything it touches into fuel.

Regulus is doing now is using his will to rein it in, forcing it to move only within the area he has designated.

The Fire Serpent crawled up his wrist and up his forearm. Regulus mobilized more Magic Power to control the density of the Fiendfyre.

The Fire Serpent's body solidified, its color changing from orange-red to dark red. As it crawled across the skin, it left a brief trail of light, but it did not burn any hairs or leave any scorches.

Maintain for 30 seconds.

The Fire Serpent begins to become unstable, with Mars flying from its tail, a sign of declining control.

Regulus immediately withdrew his Magic Power, and the Fire Serpent's body shortened, turning back into its original flame before extinguishing.

He lowered his hand and exhaled.

The control time was five seconds longer than last time; progress is slow, but it is definitely moving forward.

The danger of the Fiendfyre Curse lies in the fact that it has no intermediate state; it can either be completely controlled or it can go out of control and backfire.

Those extra five seconds meant that his understanding of Fiendfyre's true nature had deepened a little more.

His Fiendfyre was too small, not even as small as a scale of Voldemort's Fiendfyre Serpent.

But he was not discouraged. He believed that even Voldemort could not suppress Fiendfyre in his first year.

He rested for two minutes, waiting for his Magic Power to stabilize, before starting his second practice session.

This time, we're attempting to split.

After the flames ignited, he used his mind to guide them to split into two streams.

The two flames twisted and turned, trying to become two small Fire Serpent, but the difficulty of controlling them increased exponentially the moment they split.

It's like trying to hold down two crazy cats at the same time; if you hold down the one on your left, the one on your right will scratch you.

One Fire Serpent takes shape, while the other explodes before it can fully form, Mars flying onto the wooden tabletop. Then it twists rapidly, about to transform into a new shape.

Regulus suppressed it with his will.

Splitting requires a more precise allocation of Magic Power, and unlike the combined use of Spatial Warp and Spatial Anchor Charm, which require the brain to be divided into two independent computational areas, it may also require the use of Mental Splitting Technique.

Try again next time.

The next day at breakfast, the owls, as usual, swarmed into the Great Hall.

Gray, brown, and white wings flapped through the air, feathers mingling with the morning light.

Regulus was spreading blueberry jam on his toast when a strange owl flew straight Accio him.

The owl had dark brown feathers and a white stripe around its eyes; it was an uncommon species.

It clutched a roll of parchment in its paws. There was no envelope; the roll was hastily bound with thin string and had no markings or badges.

The owl landed on the edge of the silver plate in front of him, its claws scraping against the plate with a slight scraping sound.

Regulus put down his knife.

He first scanned the parchment with his Magic Perception; there was no trace of Dark Arts, no aura of curse, and no tracking or alarm spells attached.

It was just a piece of ordinary parchment, rolled up and bound.

Only after confirming it was safe did he reach out to take it.

The owl handed over the scroll of paper, and because Regulus was a beat too slow, it impatiently pecked at the back of his hand with its beak, expressing its displeasure.

Regulus picked up a small piece of jerky from the table with his other hand and handed it over.

The owl snatched it, tilted its head back, swallowed it whole, made a satisfied cooing sound in its throat, and then flapped its wings and flew away.

Regulus untied the string and unfolded the parchment.

The handwriting was very ordinary, without any personal characteristics. Each letter was as neat as if it were printed, and even the thickness of the strokes was consistent.

Such handwriting is either the result of deliberate training or aided by the use of Magic quill pen.

The content is equally simple, consisting of only one line:

"Someone will be making a public statement in the Common Room tonight. The topic is related to the recent political climate. I suggest you observe from the sidelines and not get involved."

It was unsigned, unfinished, and without a specific date.

But the implication is clear: tonight, in the Slytherin common room, someone is planning something.

The topic is a recent trend, and the wording is vague, but in the context of recent events, it refers to the increasingly turbulent undercurrent of Cleaning the Trash within the academy after the Thorne family Attacks.

Regulus finished reading, his face expressionless. He rolled up the parchment again and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his robe.

Avery cast a questioning glance at him from the side, Regulus shook his head slightly at him. Avery immediately lowered his head and continued to fork the fried eggs on his plate.

Regulus's gaze casually swept over the Slytherin table.

Lucretius Burke sat at the far end of the long table, talking to a seventh-grade girl next to him.

He held a glass of Pumpkin Juice in his hand, occasionally taking a sip, his gaze naturally moving around the Great Hall, observing his surroundings like Prefect.

When his gaze swept over Regulus, their eyes did not meet directly. Lucretius was looking at the Tapestry behind Regulus, while Regulus was looking at the candlestick beside him.

But in that instant, Regulus understood.

The letter was delivered by Lucretius.