A Good Show

Regulus blinked, tiny beads of sweat still clinging to his eyelashes.

My vision cleared again.

A dining room, a long table, a fireplace, and a person standing in front of it.

Bellatrix's face was inches away, her eyes burning with an almost fanatical anticipation.

Regulus looked down at his hands, at the Bone Box in them.

The Rune on the box's surface had faded, returning to their original dark gold color, but the ominous feeling remained.

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He slowly raised his eyes and looked at Bellatrix.

There was fatigue in his eyes; it was real. Maintaining high-intensity mental control requires a lot of mental energy.

There was excitement, but it was feigned; there was also a yearning for power and an undisguised awe.

"This..." His voice was hoarse, trembling slightly, "Is it the power of that Dark Lord?"

"That's just the tip of the iceberg." Bellatrix grinned, her voice excited. "You felt it, didn't you? Real power, power unbound by those Restraints morals."

Regulus did not answer immediately.

He looked down at the Bone Box again, his gaze lingering for a moment, as if savoring the memory.

Then he looked up, trying to keep his voice steady, but still carrying the lingering shock of being stunned.

"Vast," his gaze unfocused, "Profound, I saw many things I had never imagined before."

The words were spoken softly, almost like a murmur, but everyone in the restaurant heard them.

Walburga let out a long sigh of relief, a smile spreading across his face as he clasped his hands together in front of his chest.

Sirius's face was grim. He looked at Regulus, at the tired yet excited light in his brother's eyes, and at Regulus's hand holding the Bone Box.

"Regulus," Sirius's voice was hoarse, "you—"

"Very good!" Bellatrix burst into a sharp laugh, interrupting him.

She took a step back and opened her arms. "Excellent! Regulus, you certainly didn't disappoint that Dark Lord!"

She turned to Orion and Walburga, her face beaming with undisguised smugness.

"Uncle, Aunt, you see, the Heir of the Black family deserves this gift."

Orion didn't speak, but just looked at Bellatrix, then his gaze shifted to Regulus.

Walburga had already strode over and reached out to hug Regulus, but Regulus slightly turned aside and blocked him with the hand holding the Bone Box.

"Mother, I'm covered in sweat." His voice was flat.

Walburga stopped, his hand hovering in mid-air, then turned and patted his shoulder with considerable force.

"My son! You have earned that Dark Lord's approval! The glory of the Black family!"

Sirius stood still, watching this scene unfold.

The proud and fervent smile on her mother's face, Bellatrix's smug demeanor, her father's unfathomable silence, and Regulus.

Regulus lowered his head, his gaze still fixed on the Bone Box, his profile bathed in the morning light, looking so unfamiliar.

"Madmen!" Sirius cursed angrily, "You're all madmen!"

Then he turned around, strode towards the restaurant door, pulled it open, and slammed it shut.

The restaurant was silent for a few seconds.

Bellatrix chuckled and shook her head, as if shaking off something dirty.

Then she looked at Regulus again, her tone becoming more formal. "The gift is yours. That Dark Lord expects you to gain even greater insight."

She emphasized the last word, "understand".

Regulus nodded, with a slight emphasis. "I will study it carefully."

"Of course you have to be careful." Bellatrix's lips curled into that eerie smile again, "But remember, true power requires pure determination to wield."

Sometimes, overly broad protection can dull the edge of resolve.

Regulus looked up at her.

Bellatrix met his gaze, her eyes clearly saying, "I know you sheltered those two Half-bloods."

"What does my cousin mean?" Regulus's voice calmed down.

"What I mean is, that Dark Lord appreciates decisiveness," Bellatrix said. "Knowing when to cut ties and when to make choices is key; taking a vague stance benefits no one."

Orion then walked between Regulus and Bellatrix, his gaze first falling on the Bone Box, then looking at Bellatrix.

"Regulus accepted the gift. You saw his performance. Reply to that Dark Lord, the Black family, thanking him for his high regard."

Bellatrix stopped talking, turned and walked toward the fireplace, the hem of her cloak sweeping across the carpet.

Before stepping into the flames, she turned back for one last look at the Bone Box in Regulus's hand.

"Make good use of it," she said. "Don't waste it."

Green flames rose, engulfing her figure, then quickly retreated back into the fireplace, returning to their normal orange-red color.

Only three people remained in the restaurant.

Walburga was still excited; she grabbed Regulus's arm and spoke rapidly.

Regarding that Dark Lord's appreciation, regarding the future of the Black family, and regarding how Regulus should seize this opportunity.

Regulus listened patiently, nodding occasionally, his gaze drifting towards Orion several times.

The father remained standing there, his hand resting on the edge of the table, looking down at the surface, as if deep in thought.

After Bellatrix left, he didn't say another word; only Walburga was still chattering away in the restaurant.

"... So you should hurry up." Walburga finally finished speaking, patting Regulus's hand.

"Start your research today; that Dark Lord is definitely waiting to see your progress—"

"Walburga," Orion began, his voice not loud, but Walburga immediately stopped.

He raised his head, looked at his wife, his eyes calm.

"Let Regulus rest," Orion said. "He looks tired."

Walburga paused for a moment, then seemed to realize something and quickly let go.

"Yes, yes, look at me, I'm so excited! Reggie, you should go back to your room, take a shower, and get some rest. There's no rush with the research; that Dark Lord will understand."

Regulus nodded to her, then turned to Orion.

The father and son's eyes met in mid-air.

"Go on," Orion said, "Take a rest."

Regulus lowered his eyes, said nothing, and turned to leave, clutching the Bone Box.

Passing through the restaurant's main entrance, into the dimly lit Corridor, and up the spiral staircase, my footsteps echoed through the empty house.

I went back to my room, closed the door, and locked it.

Regulus walked to the desk and sat down, casually tossing the Bone Box on it. He clasped his hands together on the edge of the desk and closed his eyes.

He began to think.

First, let's examine the nature of the Dark Enlightenment.

It should be a composite Magic creation, formed by the fusion of high concentrations of dark knowledge, mental pollution, and mental temptation.

This item does indeed grant power, but its core mechanism lies in corruption.

By showcasing the potential of power and offering users fragmented knowledge and experiences, it incites the dark tendencies deep within their hearts, gradually leading them toward self-destruction.

Secondly, there's Voldemort's intention.

This gift-giving was a multi-faceted test.

Test the limits of his talent, see if he can withstand and comprehend this level of dark knowledge.

Test his loyalty by observing whether his attitude and reaction to the gift are pure enough.

On a deeper level, he was lured in with the most potent poison, gradually leading him down the path Voldemort desired in his pursuit of power.

This is also a form of condescending charity.

Voldemort presented the choice before him, but did not allow refusal; acceptance was the only permitted response.

Whether one can control it or not, and whether one will be corrupted by darkness, is up to the individual.

Voldemort gave him an opportunity, but he failed to seize it or handle the consequences, which only proves that he was unworthy.

He will naturally have to bear the consequences alone.

Then it was my turn to perform.

The external reactions should be realistic enough, with complete physiological symptoms, layered emotional changes, and the final expression of awe and longing should perfectly match the desire of a twelve-year-old Pure-bloods heir for great power.

That's enough to handle Bellatrix and Walburga, but Father should have figured it out.

Orion knew him too well; she knew the calmness and restraint inherent in his nature.

Those trembling excitements and overt admiration might have been a bit overacted, but that was exactly the kind of unspoken understanding between father and son he wanted.

He had no intention of hiding it from Orion.

It would be best if my father could tell; we can discuss it in detail in the Study later.

As for Walburga, maintaining the status quo is sufficient. His mother doesn't need to know too much; she only needs to see that her son has gained Voldemort's favor.

Finally, there was Bellatrix's warning: Voldemort's camp had indeed been observing the matter of sheltering the Half-bloods wizard.

This isn't a big problem, it doesn't even need to be addressed, just have Alex remind Lina Costa and Samuel Vance to keep a low profile.

The sky outside the window brightened a bit more, and sunlight began to pierce through the clouds, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the buildings in Grimmauld Place.

In the distance, the sound of Muggle car engines could be heard from the street, along with the soft creaking of milkman's cart wheels as it passed by.

Regulus stood up, walked to the window, and drew back the heavy curtains.

He looked out at the world, a world woven together by Magic and reality.

Voldemort was expanding rapidly, Dumbledore making arrangements on the other side, the Pureblood families were wavering between interests and positions, and the Muggle world was completely unaware of this, continuing their ordinary lives day after day.

And he stands here, holding a gift from darkness, having finished his performance for today.

He loosened the curtains, and the fabric fell, blocking out the light from the window.

The room fell dark again.

Regulus turned around, took off his clothes, and prepared to take a bath.

I'm covered in sweat, and it's uncomfortable.