I'll Avoid Her Edge?

Sunday noon, in the Great Hall restaurant.

The four long tables were filled with people, their voices mingling together, but the sounds from each college were distinct.

The Gryffindor side was the noisiest. Someone stood up and reached across the table for the roast meat in the distance. Someone laughed loudly. Someone knocked over a cup, spilling Pumpkin Juice all over the table. The boy next to him wiped it up while cursing.

Hufflepuff is a different kind of lively scene, less shrill, but denser, with a bunch of people crammed together, each saying their own thing, making it impossible to tell who's talking and who's listening.

Ravenclaw were much quieter, chatting in small groups, their voices low, seemingly focused only on their own affairs and not paying much attention to anything else.

The Slytherin table is different; it's lively here too, but the liveliness is more restrained.

The speaker's voice was soft, his posture was upright, his robe was wrinkle-free, and the collar was buttoned up properly.

The younger students ate their meals properly, without making a sound with their knives and forks, while the older students' area resembled a small social gathering.

Several sixth-grade boys leaned back in their chairs, holding Pumpkin Juice in their hands as if they were holding wine glasses.

They were talking about the Ministry of Magic's recent activities, saying that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had changed personnel again, and that there was a vacancy in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, which a certain family had submitted an application for.

Several girls nearby listened intently, occasionally chiming in with a comment that wasn't just idle chatter but rather insightful and relevant to current events.

Someone mentioned that the family had recently discussed a collaboration with someone, speaking casually, as if it were just a nice Tiantian.

Another person took over and said that the family was doing well recently, so they could visit them more often.

The topic shifted quickly, from personnel to marriage alliances, from industry to proposals from the Ministry of Magic.

Everyone is talking, everyone is listening, everyone is weighing the value of these words and this person.

Regulus sat in the middle of the second-year section, with half a plate of grilled fish and a few potatoes in front of him.

He glanced at the older students, then lowered his head and continued cutting potatoes.

They imitate what they see; they become like the adults in their family.

My father talked to people like this in his Study, and my mother spoke to the ladies at tea parties in the same way.

When you pick up a cup, do it slowly; when you put it down, do it gently. Don't speak too definitively, but make sure the other person understands your meaning.

This set of materials can be learned from childhood to adulthood without deliberate instruction; you'll pick it up just by watching.

It's not necessarily a bad thing; most Slytherin graduates will end up working in these kinds of environments.

Wearing custom-made ceremonial robes, they move between the Banquet Hall and conference rooms, exchanging benefits, favors, and even marriages with others also dressed in custom-made robes.

Wizarding society is inherently closed and small, and the Slytherin group seems to have carved out an even smaller territory within this already small society.

They use etiquette, background, resources, and status to confine themselves within a self-imposed barrier, preventing outsiders from entering and them from leaving.

But what they possess also prevents them from detaching themselves from the larger society outside, because they are at the core of that society.

Regulus forked a piece of potato and put it in his mouth.

He wasn't trying to criticize anything; this thing has existed for hundreds of years, so it must have its reasons for existing.

A ruling circle that relies on bloodlines and family ties would have fallen apart long ago if it didn't operate this way.

He was also part of it, a Pure-bloods core member, and the Black family was both the creator and beneficiary of this order.

However, staying in this order for too long can easily lead one to mistake the order itself for power.

You think that being in this position makes you a strong person, and that others are polite to you because you deserve it.

Few people consider that others are polite to you because the wall behind you is still there.

But Regulus knew that in a few years, Voldemort would crush it all.

Those who sit at the end of the long table, holding wine glasses and discussing marriage alliances, collaborations, and the future of their families, will kneel before him, kiss the hem of his robe, and call him the Master.

They would still wear custom-made robes and speak in that reserved tone, but everyone knew what it meant.

That will no longer be dignified, but only fear.

Voldemort doesn't negotiate, doesn't give face, and won't stop someone just because they are the heir to a certain family.

He wants people to kneel, so no one can sit.

These things are not that useful now, and in a few years, they will be completely useless.

Therefore, power is everything.

Regulus put down his cup.

Just then, two figures walked in from the end of the Slytherin table.

Samuel Vance, Lina Costa.

No one gave them a second glance; that indifference was natural, just like no one would specifically notice whether the chair in the corner was still there today.

They were used to it, so they walked in with their heads down, trying to find a seat on the edge.

Then they saw Regulus.

He sat in the middle of the second-year section, with two empty seats next to him. Alex sat to his left, Avery and Hermes sat opposite him.

Samuel paused, and Lina paused too. They exchanged a glance, then walked in that direction.

People on both sides of the long table looked up, not intentionally, but just out of the corner of their eye when someone passed by.

Then I saw the two Half-bloods walking towards the center, to the very heart of the Slytherin table.

The conversations among the older students quieted down; some people's hands, holding wine glasses, froze in mid-air; some turned to the side; and some simply raised their eyes.

The Half-bloods from other grades at the edge of the long table also looked over, their expressions inscrutable.

A week ago in Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, Black paired Cuthbert and Roxier with these two, and word got around, but nobody cared.

What happened in class was just a one-time occurrence and doesn't prove anything.

But it was Sunday lunchtime, a time when everyone was present, and these two younger Half-bloods took the initiative to approach Black.

Slytherin aren't entirely without fun and games. When the weather is nice, they'll play around by the Black Lake, have picnics under shady trees, and argue for ten minutes over a pair of Exploding Snap.

But there are some things they are always sensitive about.

Pure-bloods, Half-bloods, status, factional divisions—these terms might just be words in other houses, but in Slytherin they always carry meaning.

Even the smallest thing, perhaps unintentional, can be interpreted in various ways, ultimately leading to the conclusions that everyone wants to draw.

Moreover, that was Regulus, who was completely absorbed in Chapter 243 of Cola, "Do I Avoid Her Edge?", unable to extricate himself. The Heir of the Black family, the Chief since his first year, someone who could make the older students give way in the Corridor.

Such a person, if he simply opens the door, will instantly draw more than half of Slytherin to his side, listening to him speak and following his instructions.

But he didn't. He only acted with a few roommates, didn't form cliques, didn't express opinions, and didn't play the game of college politics.

Therefore, there have been many speculations about him, but none of them have come to fruition.

Now, two Half-bloods came to his side.

Regulus swallowed the food in his mouth, put down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and took a sip of Pumpkin Juice.

His movements were neither fast nor slow, just like when he ate, and then he raised his head.

Samuel and Lina stood before him, their robes standard school uniform style, made of ordinary fabric, but they fit well and were warm enough for the day.

Neither of them was short, and there was no such thing as malnutrition at Hogwarts.

There was something in their eyes—anxiety, nervousness, and excitement.

But the two people behaved differently.

Lina stood even straighter, her chin slightly raised, her eyes bright, as if waiting for a signal.

Samuel stood straight, but his posture was somewhat hunched, and his brows were furrowed slightly, making him look nervous.

Regulus could tell at a glance that it was an act; he was actually calmer Lina.

Lina's excitement was genuine, while Samuel's nervousness was feigned; what he was truly doing was observing.

Regulus found it amusing and didn't intend to expose him.

He had a very clear impression of these two people.

Lina is quick-witted, direct, and makes decisions fast without hesitation. Last time she went to call Slughorn, she set off as soon as she heard the message, while Samuel was still thinking about it.

She looks sharp, but she's tougher inside than she appears.

Samuel was low-key, cautious, slow to make decisions, and appeared nervous, but was actually calm and clear-headed.

If given the same resources and conditions as those born with Pure-bloods, they would probably do better than many others.

But thinking like that is pointless; people who are born with those traits probably don't have that kind of personality.

Such a person is usable, but needs further adjustment and training; as they are now, they are not good enough.

Regulus snapped out of his thoughts and said calmly, "Sit down and eat first."

Lina quickly sat down next to Alex, and after sitting down, she didn't look up again, only eating the plate in front of her.

Food that's far away from her, out of her reach, is not enough; she won't reach for it.

Samuel was a beat slow; he glanced at Lina, then at Regulus, before walking over and sitting down next to Lina.

Then he lowered his head and ate without saying a word.

Regulus certainly didn't do this casually.

During the first-grade summer vacation, when Bellatrix came to Grimmauld Place to deliver a Dark Enlightenment, she said as she left, "Sometimes, too much protection can dull the edge of resolve."

She pointed out his role in sheltering Samuel Vance and Lina Costa at Hogwarts.

Even earlier, when he received Bellatrix's letter in his first year, he knew that Voldemort was watching him.

This kind of attention will inevitably be accompanied by continuous surveillance, probing, and challenges to one's stance.

But Regulus didn't believe that the warning was Voldemort's personal statement.

It's only natural that Voldemort would pay attention to him.

But to say that Voldemort personally warned a first-year wizard for sheltering two Half-bloods would be beneath him.

Who is Voldemort?

Would he care whether the two Half-bloods wizards were bullied or protected at Hogwarts?

Would they care if the Heir of the Black family recruited two Half-bloods children as followers at school?

His vision wouldn't be so low; he wouldn't even see something like that.

Sometimes, Voldemort himself might not have been as extreme as Bellatrix.

Some things that Voldemort might consider insignificant, or even invisible, could be of paramount importance to Bellatrix.

After all, that was her the Master.

Everything her the Master does is important, and even things the Master doesn't do that she deems important are also important.

In Regulus's memory, the current Voldemort was not the Voldemort who would let out a giegiegie laugh at the Easter dinner.

He's the quieter type; he doesn't need to speak loudly or make exaggerated movements, but just seeing him makes you feel scared.

Darkness, fear, cruelty, oppression.

It's the kind of terror that makes you want to back away just by having it sit there.

Therefore, Regulus was not provoking Voldemort.

He's not qualified to provoke Voldemort yet, but he can do it to Bellatrix.

I then took them in.

I heard what you said last time, but I still did it anyway.

I'm only after you.

Bellatrix, after all, came from the Black family. She married Lestrange, but she was still Black.

If this matter is to be investigated, it should first be considered an internal matter of the Black family.

The matter between the older and younger cousins is not a matter between core members of the Death Eaters and the heirs of the Black family.

Bellatrix herself has to admit it, otherwise she'd have to cut off her Black part, but she can't cut it off; it's her pride.

But none of that matters. What matters is that illuminating Saiph requires showing its brilliance.

I can't show it to Voldemort, at least not now, but Bellatrix is a good fit, she's the perfect size.

Bellatrix was the absolute core of the Death Eaters and one of Voldemort's most trusted confidantes.

If you clash with her and stir up trouble, Voldemort will find out, but he probably won't feel offended.

More likely, they think the child is interesting, has a temper, and has his own ideas, which is better than being submissive.

Regulus put down his knife and fork.

Samuel and Lina had finished eating and were sitting there waiting.

He glanced at them, his tone as flat as ever. "Two o'clock this afternoon, go to the Library and help me find a book."

Lina nodded, and Samuel nodded as well.

Regulus stood up, Avery, Alex, and Hermes at the same time, with Lina and Samuel quickly following suit.

Behind me, the conversation at the Slytherin table was a bit more frequent than before.