More Than Just an Heir

Regulus noticed Sirius's demeanor; the guy was observing the events unfolding in the house with the air of a bystander.

Previously, he was either a participant, or he participated through anger, confrontation, and slamming doors.

They either escape, simply disappearing as if the home no longer exists.

Now Sirius has stepped back from his own perspective, standing on the outside watching Walburga's performance, his reactions, and how the family operates. He's no longer the Dark Lord driven by emotions, at least not now.

In psychology, this state is called deintegration.

Separate yourself from your emotions; stop treating emotions as part of yourself, and instead treat them as objects to be observed.

The Sirius of the past was a mix of hatred and hatred; the two were inseparable.

Now he peeled a little of that hatred away from himself, took a step back, looked at it, didn't eliminate it, but simply stopped being dragged along by it. It was almost like he had a split personality.

Regulus snapped out of his thoughts and went into the restaurant. Sirius shrugged and followed behind.

The restaurant was much brighter than the Entrance Hall.

A dark green tablecloth covered the long table, its edges draped down, embroidered with the Black family crest.

The candlesticks stretched from one end of the table to the other, all the candles were new, and the flames rose straight up without a single drop of wax spilling out.

Orion sat at the head of the long table, wearing a dark robe, the fabric of which was almost invisible in the candlelight, with the Black family crest pinned to his collar. His hair was neatly combed, and his face was expressionless, but he did not appear cold.

A cup of untouched black tea sits before me, steam rising from its rim.

Walburga sat down to his right, her dark green dress gleaming dimly in the candlelight.

Regulus walked over and sat down opposite Orion.

Sirius followed and pulled out a chair next to Regulus.

"You're back, Regulus." Orion looked at him and nodded.

Then his gaze shifted to Sirius and paused for a moment.

He didn't write to Sirius to come back, but the son appeared on his own.

He was a little surprised, but he didn't show it. He simply nodded, just as he had with Regulus earlier. "Sirius."

"I'm back, Father," Regulus replied, his tone as usual.

Sirius's expression was a little stiff, and his lips moved as if he were struggling with himself.

He lowered his head, his voice low but not harsh. "Father."

He ignored Walburga.

Orion picked up his teacup, took a sip, and said, "Let's eat."

Kreacher came out from the direction of the Kitchen, flicked his finger, and the plates flew through the air, landing one by one on the table.

Roast Lamb Chops with Rosemary, garlic Butter baked lobster, Truffle Sauce Braised Vegetables, Smoked Salmon with Cheese, and crème brûlée.

The silver Tableware gleamed in the candlelight, and the glasses were filled with deep red wine; the Black family's dining table was never sloppy.

The restaurant was quiet for a while, with only the sound of knives and forks touching the Porcelain Plates.

Walburga eats slowly, cutting off a small piece, putting it in his mouth, chewing it a few times, and swallowing.

Orion's pace was about the same, neither too fast nor too slow.

Regulus ate normally.

Sirius looked at the table full of food, picked up his knife and fork, cut off a piece of Lamb Chop, and put it in his mouth.

He chewed on something, his gaze shifting between the people at the table.

He could see the subtle temperature difference between Walburga and Regulus, but he couldn't understand it.

Orion was as expressionless as ever, his hand holding the teacup steady.

He himself suddenly discovered something interesting.

He sat at the table, surprisingly without the urge he used to have to jump up from his chair and rush out.

Before, whenever he sat here, he felt that this table was a cage, Walburga's voice was chains, and Orion's silence was an iron wall. Now, as he sat, chewing on his Lamb Chop and watching these people, he actually felt a kind of leisurely enjoyment, like watching a play.

This discovery left him somewhat bewildered; when exactly had he become like this?

He was looking at others, and at himself, but he didn't notice that Orion's gaze lingered on him for a while longer.

Orion cut a piece of beef in half.

When the son came back last time, he was still alive, but he was completely dead.

A shell dressed in clothes, mouth closed, eyes closed, wrapped up tightly, seeing nothing, saying nothing. Today is different; he is watching, observing.

Orion didn't know what had changed him, and wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

He was somewhat relieved that his son, who was destined to leave, had changed.

But after the initial relief comes a deeper assessment: things have gotten better, but then what?

Sirius would leave sooner or later; he and Regulus had already confirmed that.

His personality, his choices, his stance—everything points to that door leading out.

Even if he changes, even if he doesn't want to leave anymore, they will still let him go.

The Black family needed someone on the side of light. Whether Sirius chose this path himself or they chose it for him, it was already decided. He was the most suitable, and besides, he liked it himself.

So things may change, but the outcome will remain the same.

But he still wanted to know: what made his son change? How did he change? When did it start? And why?

He didn't know, but Regulus should have.

Orion shifted his gaze from Sirius to Regulus.

I'll have to ask him about it later in the Study.

As for Sirius, now that he's back, he should attend the Christmas Banquet.

The eldest son was absent last year, and everyone was watching. If he's absent again this year, it won't just be a personal issue anymore.

But given Sirius's personality, he might cause some trouble in that kind of situation.

This matter needs to be clarified, but there's no rush. We can discuss it after we've finished talking to Regulus about serious business.

As he was finishing his meal, Walburga put down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and looked at Regulus.

"Reggie," she said, her tone more serious than usual, "Have you thought about Bellatrix?"

Regulus put down his cup, looked at her, and waited for her to speak.

"She's your cousin, the eldest daughter of the Black family." Walburga raised his voice slightly.

"She is now the Master of the Lestrange family, and behind her stands that Dark Lord; you should know this better than anyone else."

She stared at Regulus.

Regulus simply asked, "What exactly did Bellatrix say?"

Walburga frowned, not expecting Regulus's reaction.

"She said you publicly protected those two Half-bloods, letting them sit at the center of the Slytherin table."

Walburga's tone turned stern, his eyes narrowing slightly. "She warned you before, but you ignored her and even wrote back a letter."

She paused, her tone becoming more forceful, as if trying to put pressure on Regulus: "A very arrogant letter." Sirius, still chewing, raised an eyebrow when he heard "protecting the Half-bloods," and almost laughed when he heard "arrogant letter," quickly lowering his head to pretend to drink his soup.

Regulus sheltered Half-bloods at school?

He even sent Bellatrix an arrogant letter back?

His mind raced.

So Walburga's coldness wasn't due to anything else, but because Bellatrix had complained.

He thought again about what Regulus had said by the lake.

Is this the matter?

Is Bellatrix coming to cause trouble?

He stirred the bowl with his spoon, then listened silently.

"Mother." Regulus's voice was soft, his tone gentle, with a patience reserved for his mother.

"Those two students weren't doing too well in Slytherin, so I helped them out. It was just a matter between classmates."

Seeing that Regulus was explaining, Walburga's brow relaxed slightly, but his lips remained pursed. "Bellatrix said..."

"I understand Bellatrix's perspective on this matter."

Regulus picked up the conversation, his voice calm and measured. "I understand that she thinks the Heir of the Black family shouldn't get too close to people of Half-bloods race."

Walburga's expression relaxed a little more.

"As for that letter," Regulus continued, "I did reply rather hastily at the time, which was my oversight."

He didn't say exactly how he replied, and Walburga didn't press him for details. She probably didn't know that it was "SO?" written with ketchup.

Bellatrix must have only used vague wording like "arrogant" in her letter, otherwise it would have been too embarrassing.

Walburga's tone softened, but remained serious: "Reggie, Bellatrix is your cousin; she represents more than just herself now." "I know," Regulus nodded, his tone impeccably sincere. "Mother, rest assured, I will talk to Bellatrix and make things clear."

Walburga looked at him, his gaze lingering on his face for a long while.

Then her expression gradually relaxed, her eyes softened, and she nodded.

Her voice finally warmed up a bit. "Bellatrix's one of us, talk to her nicely."

Regulus nodded. "I understand."

He picked up his teacup, took a sip, and then put it down.

She's too easy to please.

He gave her whatever she wanted to hear, acknowledged his oversights, expressed respect, and promised to communicate.

She doesn't need the truth; she needs a reassuring gesture.

As long as he adopts this stance, she will convince herself that her son is obedient, her family is safe, and she can also explain things to Bellatrix.

Walburga's love for him and her faith in the glory of Pure-bloods were intertwined.

He fulfilled his faith, and she gave him love.

He went against his faith, so she withdrew her love, or withdrew a portion of it, like she did today.

Once he was satisfied again, love returned.

Such a simple switch.

Orion remained silent throughout, sitting there with his teacup in hand, his gaze sweeping from Walburga's face to Regulus's, then back again. He took a sip of tea.

Sirius observed all of this and roughly understood.

Bellatrix pressured Regulus about school matters, but Regulus didn't back down. Bellatrix then complained to Walburga, Walburga pressured Regulus, Regulus appeased her with a few words.

He also noticed a detail: Orion didn't say a word the entire time.

He was the patriarch, and he had the final say, but he chose to remain silent and watch Regulus handle the situation himself.

Sirius suddenly felt that his father and brother seemed to be in cahoots.

Walburga felt like an outsider.

Dinner is over.

Orion stood up. "Regulus, go and rest first, then come to the Study."

Regulus nodded. "Understood, Father."

Orion's gaze shifted briefly towards Sirius, lingered there for a moment, then returned to his own without acknowledging him.

He wanted to talk serious with Regulus, and he would use a different approach in the Study to say the things he had said to fool Walburga at the dinner table.

After he finished talking with Regulus, he called Sirius over and spoke to him privately.

Sirius, you're going too.

Regulus's voice rang out from the side, his tone as usual, as if he were saying something that didn't need to be discussed.

Sirius was stunned.

He looked at Regulus, then at Orion.

Orion didn't call him, but Regulus did.

In the Black family, the patriarch decides who holds conversations in the Study; this is the rule, and there have never been exceptions.

Something stirred within Sirius.

This wouldn't be a big deal in an ordinary family, but in Black, at this dinner table, the very next second after Orion made the arrangements— Orion stood there, his gaze falling briefly on each of the brothers.

Then he nodded, his tone unchanged. "Sirius, you're here too."

Orion walked towards the Study.

Sirius watched his father's retreating figure, then turned back to Regulus. Regulus's face was expressionless as he folded his napkin and placed it on the table. Regulus turned to Walburga: "Mother, I'm going back to my room."

Walburga looked at him, his face still showing the satisfaction he had just received after being appeased. His smile was much gentler, a stark contrast to when he entered. "Go on, don't keep your father waiting too long."

Her gaze slid over Regulus, then lingered on Sirius without lingering, as if that spot were empty.

The two brothers walked out of the restaurant together and went upstairs.

On the stairs, Sirius followed Regulus, their footsteps echoing muffledly on the old house's wooden steps.

He didn't speak, his mind still replaying what had just happened.

His father didn't call him, but his younger brother did, and then his father agreed.

In this family, only one type of person can change the Chang'an.

A person approved by the clan leader, someone who is approved enough to make certain decisions on his behalf.

Sirius had never thought about this question before.

He didn't care about the rules of the family, who was in charge, or about hierarchy and etiquette.

But today he suddenly realized that his younger brother was no longer just the heir in this family.