Bellatrix's Letter

The clamor of the Slytherin Welcoming Party had not yet fully died down. Students were dispersing in twos and threes, quietly discussing the brief duel that had just taken place.

Regulus had just stepped out of the open space in the center of the common room and was preparing to return to the Dormitory when a voice called out to him.

"Regulus."

It was Narcissa Black. She stood beside the archway leading to the girls' Dormitory, with none of the older girls who usually clustered around her at her side. She had clearly been waiting for him.

Several older boys who had intended to approach Regulus, the newly appointed Chief, to say something stopped tactfully when they saw her.

"Cousin Narcissa." Regulus stopped and walked toward her. He was not surprised that Narcissa had sought him out, only that she had done so earlier than expected.

Narcissa said nothing, merely gesturing for him to follow.

The two of them walked one after the other into a secluded Stone Corridor outside the common room. There were no Portraits here, only cold stone walls and ghostly green torches burning every few steps.

Once she had made certain no one was nearby, Narcissa turned around, her expression a mix of worry and gravity.

She drew a black-wax-sealed envelope from her sleeve. Imprinted on the seal was a hideous skull with a snake clamped between its teeth.

A symbol not yet public, but already tacitly understood in certain circles.

"A letter from Bellatrix." Narcissa handed it to him, lowering her voice. "She specifically instructed me to give it to you only after you had secured the position of Chief."

Regulus took the letter. The black envelope felt cool against his fingers, carrying a faint, unsettling residue of Magic Power.

He did not open it immediately. Instead, he looked at Narcissa.

Narcissa seemed to understand his question and let out a soft sigh. "The situation outside is growing more and more tense, Regulus."

Her voice carried a trace of weariness. "The Dark Lord's influence is expanding rapidly. It is no longer just secret gatherings and petty disturbances.

"In the Ministry of Magic, the Wizengamot, even the Hogwarts Board of Governors, he has people serving him—or people afraid of him.

"Some shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade have quietly changed owners. Several editors of dissenting tabloids have resigned to recuperate.

"And two officials in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who publicly questioned the abuse of the International Statute of Secrecy were found last month to have accidentally triggered dangerous experimental Magic in their homes. They were severely injured and sent to St Mungo's."

She looked at Regulus. "He is highly capable, and highly charismatic. With promises, threats, and the tangible power he has displayed, he has woven a vast net.

"Among the Pureblood families, the Lestrange family has long been at the core. Families like the Notts, Carrows, and Yaxleys have also made their positions clear. More people are watching and weighing their options. The Malfoys..."

She drew a deep breath. "...the Malfoys are among them too."

Regulus understood what she meant.

Narcissa Black herself might not fully agree with Voldemort's mad talk of conquest and purges, but she was about to marry into the Malfoy family. Her position would be tied to Lucius Malfoy's choice, and to that of the entire Malfoy family.

She had no choice.

This roughly matched the history he knew, though the details painted an even clearer picture of the period before Voldemort's first rise.

"Thank you for telling me, Cousin." Regulus calmly tucked the letter into the inner pocket of his robes.

Narcissa studied his unruffled face, seemingly trying to find even the slightest hint of panic or fear in his eyes, but she failed.

In the end, she merely said quietly, "Be careful of Bellatrix. She has changed. And be careful of what is in that letter. You are still young, but that does not mean you can stay out of this forever."

With that, she gave a slight nod, turned, and quickly left the Stone Corridor. The hem of her robes swept over the stone floor with a faint rustle.

When Regulus returned to the Dormitory, Avery, Hermes, and Alex had not yet come back.

Regulus drew his bed curtains, cast a Muffling Charm, and only then took out the black letter.

As he broke the wax seal, a faint scent drifted out, blending some expensive perfume with a deeper trace of something scorched.

The letter was written on thick Parchment. The handwriting was wild and messy, the strokes so forceful they nearly pierced the page, revealing the writer's agitated and unstable emotions.

"To my dear cousin Regulus:

"I heard that you have begun to distinguish yourself at Hogwarts and earned the position of Slytherin Chief. I am deeply gratified.

"The noble blood of the Black family flows through your veins. As expected, you have not disappointed me, the family, or the Dark Lord!

"This is a great age, Regulus!

"The old order is crumbling. The rotten Ministry of Magic is controlled by cowards and sympathizers of Mudbloods, who have defiled the rights and Glory that are ours by birth!

"But dawn is approaching!

"A true king has risen. He will lead us to cleanse this filthy world and rebuild an eternal order belonging to Pureblood Wizards!

"Power! Glory! Domination! That is everything we deserve!

"You have shown talent, but that is far from enough! You must grow faster, become stronger, become more resolute!

"The games of Slytherin are only the beginning. The true battlefield lies beyond the Castle!

"The Dark Lord needs loyal and powerful followers. The Black family must occupy the most dazzling place in this new hall!

"Do not be misled by weak emotions. Do not be bound by false morality!

"Power is truth, and truth belongs only to the victors!

"I have already reported your situation to the Dark Lord. He is very interested in you. A Black who has displayed such extraordinary skill at so young an age has shown him great potential.

"Remember this attention, Regulus. It is a supreme honor, and it should be your motivation to advance. Do not disappoint it!

"Be ready at all times, cousin. When the summons comes, prove that you are worthy of the Black name and worthy of serving a greater cause!

"—Your loyal and expectant cousin,

"Bellatrix Lestrange"

The letter was finished.

Regulus laid the letter on his knee, his face expressionless.

The fanaticism, obsession, and hunger for violent power nearly overflowing from Bellatrix's words were even stronger than he had expected.

This was no longer the mindset of a simple follower. It was a diseased form of devotion and worship.

The coercive undertone in the letter was also obvious. Bellatrix—or rather, Voldemort behind her—had not excluded him from their sights simply because he was only eleven.

Especially the mention that Voldemort had already noticed him and was interested in him. That was absolutely not a good thing.

It often meant close scrutiny, harsh tests, and destruction that might descend the moment he failed to meet expectations.

He had originally thought he had at least a few years of breathing room, enough time to accumulate strength more steadily and find his own path.

Now, it seemed time was more urgent than he had imagined. Voldemort's net was tightening, and the Black family had long since been deeply caught within it.

A cold irritation rapidly grew in his normally calm heart.

When Regulus stepped out of the Dormitory, there were still quite a few people in the common room.

At a glance, he spotted Alger Travers, the fifth-year who had been publicly humiliated by him at the start of term, surrounded by several Pure-blood cronies.

They occupied the area around the Fireplace, speaking in voices neither too loud nor too soft, their eyes occasionally flicking toward the Dormitory passage.

When he saw Regulus emerge, Travers deliberately raised his voice.

"...So even if someone is talented, they are still just a little baby who needs others to watch over them. What does being a first-year Chief amount to?

"A real Slytherin must look to the long term, to actual influence. Relying on a little cleverness and luck, being praised a few times, and they really start thinking they are somebody?"

The cronies beside him let out several low, agreeing chuckles.

Several older students who had yet to leave, including some from the Neutral Faction, looked over with expressions of eager amusement.

Of course, they knew about the previous conflict between Travers and Regulus. They also understood that Travers had only chosen to step forward now to provoke him and damage his standing while the new Chief was at the height of his momentum.

This sort of performance was nothing new in Slytherin.

Avery and Alex were sitting in a nearby sofa area. Avery frowned, looking from Travers to Regulus.

Alex looked uneasy.

Even Hermes, who had been lurking in a corner, shifted his feet and moved closer to Regulus. He stopped about five meters away and silently watched.

"Travers," a sixth-year girl spoke up—the same one who had praised Regulus earlier. "Enough. He is only a first-year."

"A first-year?" Alger Travers sneered. Turning his head, he finally looked Regulus directly in the eye, his face openly malicious and filled with a provocative confidence in victory.

"A first-year who knows how to use some obscure trick learned from who knows where against older students? A first-year who can make certain people lose their heads and circle around him?

"I am merely stating the facts. When you are young, you should know how to keep a low profile and learn to respect your elders, instead of acting as though you are above everyone else just because you have a little talent.

"Do you really think being Slytherin Chief is such an amazing achievement?"