Bones and His Roommate's Little Secret

When he left the Small Garden, the sky had already darkened, lights were coming on one after another in the Castle windows, and dinner was almost upon them.

Regulus quickened his pace, only to run into someone at the entrance to the Greenhouse area.

It was a Hufflepuff girl, second or third year, with light brown hair tied in a loose bun. She was crouched in front of a row of flowerpots, carefully loosening the soil around a Dittany plant whose leaves had wilted.

"You'll hurt the lateral roots like that," Regulus stopped and said without thinking.

The girl looked up and blinked. "What?"

"The angle of your trowel is too straight." Regulus pointed at the little iron trowel in her hand. "Dittany roots spread outward in all directions. They don't dig deep downward. If you push the trowel in vertically, you'll cut off the lateral roots."

The girl looked down, then understood at once. "No wonder this one's never grown well... Thank you."

She adjusted the angle, changed to inserting it diagonally into the soil, and gently loosened the earth around it.

"You're the Slytherin new student?" she asked as she worked. "It's rare to see a Slytherin know so much about Herbology."

"Regulus Black, first year," he introduced himself simply.

"I'm Eleanor Bones, third year." The girl smiled, revealing a Canine tooth. "The Bones family. You should know it."

She went on, her tone carrying an unconcealed, well-meaning curiosity. "I know you. Hogwarts's second Black.

"Before you enrolled, we—well, I mean quite a few people—privately guessed whether you'd enter Slytherin like everyone from the Black family has for five hundred years.

"Or whether you'd choose Gryffindor like your brother."

Regulus raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised.

He knew that almost every student from a pureblood family at Hogwarts, and even many professors, had been paying attention to where he would be sorted.

After all, Sirius's choice had not only been an act of personal rebellion; it had also broken the Black family's unshakable tradition of five hundred years.

Five hundred years was an incomparably long span of time, long enough for "Black means Slytherin" to become a kind of unspoken consensus in the Wizarding World.

And in this crucial period, when undercurrents were surging and many Ancient Families were choosing their positions anew, the sorting of the Black family heir could even be interpreted by the outside world as some kind of signal from the family.

Regulus had long been fully aware of all this, and he also knew people would not stop discussing it.

Even in the original story, these discussions would continue until the Black family was nearly extinct.

But someone like Eleanor Bones bringing it up to his face with this almost candid attitude was still a first since he had enrolled.

This young witch from the Bones family was far more direct than any other pureblood-born person he had dealt with.

And of course Regulus knew the Bones family.

The Bones family was also one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Their stance was relatively moderate, and many of their family members worked in the Ministry of Magic.

This Eleanor was probably a relative of Amelia Bones, the future head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Regulus did not avoid her remark at all. His gray eyes looked at her calmly. "It seems the answer is Slytherin now. Those guesses can stop."

Eleanor Bones blinked, then laughed. "True. And it looks like you're adapting quite well there."

Regulus did not continue that topic. He pointed at the flowerpot on the ground and said, "Dittany likes loose soil, but it doesn't like being moved often.

"You'd better add a layer of crushed pottery at the bottom of the pot to improve drainage. The soil in this pot is retaining too much water right now, and the roots will rot easily."

Eleanor looked at him in surprise. "How do you know the soil is retaining too much water?"

"The edges of the leaves are curling slightly, and the color is a little dark green. That's a sign the roots aren't breathing properly. And when you loosened the soil just now, it clumped together, which means the water content is too high."

"Merlin, you're right." Eleanor stood up and patted the dirt from her hands. "I've been using the standard culture-soil formula, but maybe the quality of this batch of leaf mold is bad.

"Thank you for the suggestion, Mr. Black."

Regulus nodded slightly.

Under the dimming daylight, the two of them spent five minutes exchanging techniques for loosening soil.

Eleanor taught him how to use his fingers to feel how loose or compact the soil was, as well as several methods for cultivating uncommon Magical Plants.

In exchange, Regulus shared a few simple Soil detection spells from Courtyard Care Magic, very practical little tricks.

Eleanor packed up her tools. "Time to go to the Great Hall. Walk together?"

"All right."

The two of them walked side by side toward the Castle. On the way, they ran into a few Hufflepuff students. When they saw Eleanor walking with a Slytherin, they looked surprised, but no one said anything.

When they entered the Great Hall, Eleanor waved goodbye. "See you, Mr. Black."

"See you, Miss Bones."

Regulus walked toward the Slytherin table. As he sat down, Avery leaned over. "What were you talking about with someone from the Bones family?"

"Herbology," Regulus answered simply, and began putting Roast Meat onto his plate. The little experiment earlier had taken quite a toll, and he needed nourishment.

"The Bones family is all right, not too bad," Avery commented. "But that Amelia of theirs is too serious at the Ministry of Magic. My father doesn't like her."

"Perhaps she doesn't like Mr. Cuthbert either," Regulus said.

Avery thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. "You're right."

Just after midnight, Regulus woke with a start from meditation. It was a Magic Fluctuation.

He instantly reined in all his magic, slowed his breathing, and kept his body perfectly still, only cracking his eyes open the slightest slit.

On the bed opposite him, Hermes Mulciber's curtains were gently lifted.

A figure in a black robe slipped out soundlessly, landing without making the slightest noise.

Hermes straightened in the darkness, as if confirming something. He even walked to each bed and paused for a moment, including Regulus's.

A minute later, Hermes walked out of the dormitory.

Regulus waited three minutes, then slowly sat up.

He got out of bed and walked to Hermes's bedside. The curtains still had a gap in them. Regulus did not touch anything; he merely scanned with Magic Perception.

The bed was neat. A book was pressed beneath the pillow, its cover dark red leather, with no title. There was a Protective Charm on it; a forced probe would trigger an alarm.

On the bedside table sat an empty glass bottle, with a tiny amount of black liquid left at the bottom. Regulus could not identify what it was, but at the very least, it was not a standard potion.

Hermes's schoolbag lay by the windowsill. The zipper had not been fully closed, revealing the corner of a piece of parchment.

There was no Protective Charm. Regulus gently nudged it open with a probe of magic.

It was a map, hand-drawn, its lines crude but its labels clear.

In the center was the main body of Hogwarts Castle. Several areas had been circled: the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor, with the words "searched, no results" written beside it.

The abandoned classroom area on the west side of the dungeons was marked: "Protected, needs cracking."

There was also a room beneath the Astronomy Tower, marked "suspected entrance, pending verification."

Beneath the Astronomy Tower? That should have been the castle's outer wall. There should not have been any room there.

Unless it was a secret chamber, or a hidden passage.

Regulus withdrew his probe and returned to his own bed.

What was Hermes Mulciber searching for?

Or rather, for whom was he searching?

An hour later, at 1:14 in the morning, the door was gently opened again.

Hermes had returned. His steps were heavier than when he had left, the hem of his robe had fresh scorch marks, and on the back of his left hand was a long, thin red mark, as though something sharp had cut across it.

He paused at the doorway for several seconds, his gaze sweeping over the three beds.

After confirming that nothing was amiss, Hermes walked toward his own bed. As he took off his outer robe, Regulus smelled a faint scent of sulfur.

It was the residue of Magical Flames, or some kind of Alchemy reaction.

Hermes drew his bed curtains closed. From within came the rustle of changing clothes, then everything fell silent.

Regulus opened his eyes and stared into the darkness of the bed curtains overhead.

A first year, eleven years old, and already beginning to dabble in dangerous secrets.

The Mulciber family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but held a marginal position.

For generations, the Mulciber family had dealt in rare magical items. In truth, they were middlemen for the smuggling and collection of Dark Arts artifacts.

They were skilled at skirting the edge of the law, had covert partnerships with multiple shops in Knockturn Alley, did not pursue political power, and focused on collecting forbidden knowledge and dangerous magical items.

They did not openly support Voldemort, but privately provided supplies to the Death Eaters.

Was Hermes's behavior a personal interest, or a family task?

If it was the latter, then the thing he was looking for was very likely connected to the coming war.

An owl's cry came from outside the window, distant and indistinct. Regulus did not dwell on it. In his heart, he decided to keep watching.

He closed his eyes again and began a new cycle of magic circulation.

The geometric model of Orion lit up in his mind, and starlike magic flowed along the calculated paths.