You have courted death
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Polius's Magic Power is steady, just like him—calm, restrained, and without malice.
Veronica's Magic Power was a bit sharper, but that didn't bother her either.
Regulus was certain that the new setup designed by the two men was not aimed at him.
That leaves only one possibility: someone knows that the new Prefect has added this step.
Then he found Geoffrey outside of school, encouraged him, gave him something, and told him to make a name for himself that day, win a few matches, and finally challenge Regulus.
Geoffrey was clearly persuaded.
These small families, barely even bordering on Pure-bloods, either live a peaceful life or desperately climb the social ladder.
But whether this was the Thaler family's idea or Geoffrey's own, it doesn't matter now.
The Magic Power within him was about to spiral out of control.
If Regulus doesn't realize it, he will accept the challenge.
He certainly wouldn't refuse. It would be so meaningful for the Head of New Students to challenge the previous one, passing on the torch, giving guidance, and taking care of all the formalities.
Even with Regulus's level, even just the level he showed in school, Geoffrey would have to go all out to beat him.
Whether he genuinely wanted guidance, wanted to make an impression, or simply wanted to defeat Regulus and make a name for himself, he had to give it his all.
Then Geoffrey will get into trouble in front of everyone.
They might faint on the spot, be seriously injured, or their Magic Power might never obey them again.
It could be more serious; they might be unable to improve from then on, forever stuck at a first-year level, not much better than Squib.
Or worse.
The person who designed this is quite good at choosing the right time and the right people.
There just happens to be a new member of this small family, easy to manipulate and instigate, and no one will stand up for him if something goes wrong.
There are only a handful of people who know about the new Prefect and the new procedures: the Prefect himself, the people involved in the preparations, and those who inquired about the news in advance.
But there's no need to guess or prove it; that malice is already in the lounge.
Just like when Arnold Belmont jumped out, it was cold, cruel, and bloody.
Dolphin Rowle, seventh grader, eldest son of the Rowle family.
He is usually very low-key, rarely speaks in public, stands in the corner at gatherings, and sits on the edge of the table at meals. His presence is so low that sometimes people forget he even exists.
But everyone knows what kind of person Dolphin is, and even more so, what kind of person the Rowle family is.
He stood in the shadows, his hands in his robe pockets, his posture languid, a faint smile playing on his lips.
He was looking at Regulus with great interest, his gaze never once falling on Geoffrey.
It was as if the little wizard standing in the center of the scene, pale-faced and at a loss, about to become the protagonist of this play, was just a minor figure who didn't need to be remembered.
He was indeed a nobody.
The Selwyn family?
It's not even a tool, just a prop.
What does it matter to him if it's used up, broken, or thrown away?
When he saw Regulus looking over, he raised his glass in a casual gesture, his expression relaxed.
But Regulus received that malice completely.
It's him again. This is the second time Rowle has targeted him.
The first time was when Arnold Belmont jumped out.
The second time is now.
But Regulus could only confirm it was him by sensing malice; he never showed himself, never took action, and never left any evidence.
It must be said that compared to Belmont's last outburst, this time the tactics are much more sophisticated.
Belmont took matters into his own hands, stepping forward to force him to make a statement.
The result was that they were publicly humiliated, forced to kneel in shame, lost their family business, and were forced to move out of UK.
That's risky.
The Belmont family is not the kind of small family that can be easily manipulated; they have room to resist.
While it certainly won't stop the Black family's retaliation, it's entirely possible to expose the person behind it all.
I don't seek forgiveness, but at least I want to stop the retaliation, make them pay the price, and stay in UK.
Although the reason is unknown, they chose to shoulder everything themselves, but the risk certainly exists.
This time is different.
Geoffrey Selwyn, a newcomer from a small, arrogant family.
Anyone can easily sway him with a few words, give him something, tell him what to do and what he can get, and he'll believe them.
Regulus was certain that if the investigation continued, the trail would eventually end with him.
He himself may not have retained any real information about it; that memory is either empty or filled with false information, making it impossible for later generations to find.
If Regulus accepts the challenge, Geoffrey will inevitably be in trouble.
But what does this have to do with Rowle?
He did nothing; he just watched a Welcome Party.
If Regulus hadn't had such keen Magic Perception that he could directly detect that malice, he wouldn't have even been able to catch a glimpse of Rowle.
But Rowle was unaware that Regulus could sense malice; this was his blind spot.
If it's off-campus --
Regulus looked at the figure raising his glass in acknowledgment and nodded slightly in response, but a thought was swirling in his mind.
If it were off-campus, he wouldn't need evidence, speculation, or even a reason.
That malice alone is enough.
You dare to harbor such malice towards me, dare to appear before me, and even dare to take action.
You have already chosen a path to death.
All he needs to do is discover, confirm, and remember.
Then, it's time for the other person to die.
No trial is needed, no conviction is needed, and no one needs to know.
All it takes is one day, one opportune moment, one secluded corner where no one can see, to make Dolphin Rowle disappear from this world.
It's that simple.
But this is Hogwarts, Castle with Dumbledore, professors, and countless eyes.
Even if Regulus had ample evidence to prove that this was a conspiracy orchestrated by Rowle, even if he could identify Rowle.
Then what?
As members of the same Sacred Twenty-Eight and heirs of the same Pureblood families, what will happen to Rowle because of this?
Solitary confinement?
Points deducted?
Write a self-criticism?
Regulus shook his head slightly; this was definitely not going to work.
Regardless of any conflicts or even old grudges between the Rowle family and Black family, he was unaware of them.
Regardless of how high the Rowle family's position was on Voldemort's side, how much trust they enjoyed, or what they were busy with.
Regardless of whether Rowle came for him, for the Black family, or just wanted to watch the show.
None of these matters.
One thing is certain: Dolphin Rowle cannot be allowed to live to graduate.
Regulus withdrew his gaze, his expression unchanged; the malice remained lingering in his senses, as clear as a fire in the darkness.
Rowle was still looking at him, a faint smile playing on his lips.
He was unaware that Regulus had seen right through him, unaware that his malice had been fully received and confirmed.
He thought he was in the shadows; he thought he was the hunter.
Let him think that way.
Everyone around was still watching Regulus; no one knew why he had suddenly called off the final duel.
But no one spoke.
If someone else had done this, there would have been jeers, sarcastic remarks, and direct questioning.
But when Regulus did this, everyone simply fell silent, waiting for him to speak.
It's not because I'm afraid, it's just that there's no need.
At Regulus's level, everything he does and doesn't do has its reasons. Whether others understand it or not is their business; Regulus doesn't need to explain.
Those who disliked him the most, those who thought the Black family was nothing special and that Regulus was nothing remarkable, wouldn't think he was deliberately flaunting his status.
That's beneath you. People who truly stand at the top don't need to jump up to be seen.
Only those who lack confidence need to constantly prove themselves, and only those who have just climbed up the ladder need to repeatedly remind others who they are.
Regulus no longer needed to show off like this.
Veronica Yaxley walked up behind Polius.
With a slightly concerned expression, she walked up to Regulus and bent down slightly. "Regulus, what happened?"
The Yaxley family and Black family were acquainted.
Walburga and Mrs. Yaxley were frequent guests at each other's tea parties, inviting each other several times a year.
She had heard Regulus's name at home more often than she had in Slytherin.
Given this relationship, it's only natural for her to call him by his name.
Regulus nodded to her. "There's a problem, I need to confirm something."
His gaze swept across the crowd, and in the third-year section, in a less central area, he found Snape.
Snape sat in the corner, leaning against the back of the sofa, his expression gloomy.
A few people sat sparsely around him, most of them like him, Half-bloods or on the verge of being Pure-bloods.
They occupied a small area; the atmosphere was somber and oppressive.
Regulus simply called him "Snape."
The voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear, and all eyes followed Regulus's gaze to Snape.
Snape paused for a moment, then looked up and met Regulus's gaze.
There was a moment of surprise in those eyes, followed by wariness, and then something indescribable.
Regulus's voice was calm, as if he were saying casually, "Go check if Selwyn has drunk any Potions."
The lounge fell silent instantly.
The sounds of conversation, hushed discussions, and clinking glasses all ceased.
Only the crackling of the flames burning in the fireplace remained.
Potions?
What's the meaning?
Over there, several students who had been sitting casually straightened up.
Some people frowned, some exchanged glances, and some twitched their lips as if they wanted to say something but then swallowed it back.
In Slytherin, the Head of New Students is a position earned through hard work. No one knows exactly how many generations this tradition has lasted, but everyone acknowledges its significance.
At other times, you can use your family background to intimidate others or use connections to pave your way, but when you're in that circle, you should rely on yourself.
Using Potions is cheating, and the worst kind at that. Anyone caught doing so will never be able to hold their head high in Slytherin again.
All eyes turned from Snape to Geoffrey.
Geoffrey stood in the center of the arena, his body trembling uncontrollably. His face was deathly pale, and even the hand holding his wand was shaking, the tip of the wand wobbling as if it might fall at any moment.
He was speechless; at that moment, only one thought occupied his mind.
It's over, it's over, it's over.
People among the older students started whispering among themselves.
"Use Potions? Are you crazy?"
"If you get caught, you're finished. How do you expect to get by after that?"
"Who gave him the guts?"
"The key question is, how was he identified? How did Black know?"
Snape stood up, and under everyone's gaze, he walked through the crowd to the center of the arena.
I walked each step very steadily, but that was deliberate; in reality, my heart was not at peace.
Regulus called him, in front of everyone.
Snape knew this was an opportunity.
He's not stupid. If Black could see right through Geoffrey, he couldn't possibly be incapable of seeing even more clearly.
If Black wanted to confirm it himself, he could just go over and take a look; it would only take a few words.
Black is giving him a chance.
Snape needed this, he desperately needed it, but a strange feeling also arose within him.
gratitude?
have.
But while he was grateful, he also felt awkward. He didn't want to owe anyone anything, especially not Black.
But he already owed him. Last time, Regulus accepted his thanks, but he knew in his heart that he owed him.
And now, once again.
Snape gripped his wand tightly and walked up to Geoffrey.
Geoffrey looked at him, his eyes filled with fear and pleading.
Snape didn't even glance at him; he held out his hand. "Wand."