Orion: Who to Follow

Regulus walked up to Sirius.

Sirius's eyes couldn't move, but even though they couldn't move, they seemed to be staring at him with great force.

In those grey eyes, the left eye said, "You're waiting," and the right eye was etched with, "You're finished." Together, they meant one thing. "Untie me." Regulus pointed a finger, releasing the petrification; another, releasing the Muffliato.

He can move again, and his voice is back.

The crackling of the fireplace, the sound of the wind outside the window, and the rustling of Orion flipping through documents at the desk.

Sirius's body suddenly loosened, his arm fell and slapped the armrest, and he shook his wrist a couple of times.

His facial expression shifted from a petrified, stiff state to anger almost without any transition.

His eyebrows went from furrowed to pressed down, the corners of his mouth turned down, his chin jutted forward, and his whole face looked like it was radiating fire.

He took a deep breath, the air rolling around in his chest, making his shoulders rise.

His mouth opened even wider, and the first syllable of "you fucking bastard" was already pressed against the tip of his tongue.

"Sirius," Regulus's voice rang out first, his tone completely different from before, carrying a hint of seriousness and solemnity. Even his eyes were sincere. "I need help."

Sirius's mouth was still open, the rest of his words stuck in his throat.

Need help?

These two words coming from Regulus's mouth were even more unexpected to him than being disarmed earlier.

When had Regulus, whom he had seen in the past—in Grimmauld Place, at Hogwarts, on the windowsill in the Corridor —ever ever said he needed help? This younger brother had always given the impression of being the type who didn't need anyone else, handled everything himself, and never asked for anything.

Sirius's anger was cut off, it didn't disappear, it was just covered up by something else.

curious.

His mouth was still open, his expression changed from anger to confusion, his brows were furrowed, and there was still fire in his eyes, but it was suppressed.

His gaze swept over Regulus's face, then around again, his tone odd, as if he hadn't quite decided on the right words: "What is it?" "The day of the banquet," Regulus said directly, "I'm going to make my move."

Sirius's eyes lit up; his attention was instantly captured, his brow relaxed, and he leaned forward involuntarily.

Let's get started.

This word worked better for him than anything else.

"Bellatrix wants to cause me trouble," Regulus said gravely, "But when to talk, how to talk, and where to talk are not her decisions, they are mine."

He looked Sirius into his eyes. "She thinks she can overpower me, I'll let her try."

Sirius's lips began to curl upwards, while Regulus's expression suggested he was entrusting something important.

He tried to appear more composed, so he tried to tuck his lips down, but he couldn't and they still parted in a wide grin.

Regulus changed the subject. "But Bellatrix is amazing, you know that."

Sirius wasn't being stubborn; Bellatrix was indeed impressive, but he felt awkward about admitting it directly.

To acknowledge Bellatrix's prowess is as if it were an admission of all her eccentricities.

He neither nodded nor shook his head, but just gritted his teeth.

Regulus ignored him and continued, "I need to focus on dealing with her, so Rababstan is yours to handle."

Sirius paused for a moment. "Rababstan?"

"The Lestrange family, third year," Regulus said curtly, "Those two Half-bloods who touched my people, they need an explanation." Sirius pursed his lips. A third-year Lestrange? Was it really worth Regulus mentioning them?

He looked at Regulus's face, and something felt off.

Regulus could easily handle a third-grader; why would he need Regulus's help?

He opened his mouth to ask, but Regulus's face seemed... serious?

He suppressed his suspicion, raised his chin slightly, and adopted a reserved posture, as if to say, "Since you're asking me for help, I'll reluctantly listen."

How can I help?

"I'll be going up against Bellatrix at the dinner party, and I can't let Rababstan go either," Regulus said. "But I don't have time for that, so I'll leave it to you." Sirius wasn't very enthusiastic; Rababstan was a scrap, so he gave it to him. But Regulus wanted to focus on Bellatrix, so he gave him the other one.

This logic is sound.

"No problem," he patted the armrest and was about to stand up. "Give it to Yi."

"But..." Regulus pressed him down.

Sirius's sentence was cut short again.

"You have to wait for the signal," Regulus said, looking at him. "Until then, do nothing, show no reaction, just like you're attending a normal dinner."

He emphasized, repeating, "The same."

Sirius pursed his lips.

"I said the same," Regulus saw what he meant. "The same, not the same as you think."

"Don't glare at him beforehand, don't roll your eyes at him, and don't bump into him with your shoulder when you walk past him."

Sirius's mouth opened and closed twice; he had thought about all three things.

He took a deep breath, exhaled, and said in a slightly muffled voice, "Okay, I'll wait for the signal."

"Wait for the signal before you move," Regulus said with a smirk. "Appear at the crucial moment, when everyone is watching, and strike decisively."

He gave Sirius a thumbs-up. "Cool."

Sirius's eyes lit up again.

He propped himself up on the chair, pulled his shoulders back, raised his chin, and his previously reserved demeanor crumbled, a grin spreading across his face. His expression shifted from "I'll listen to you" to "I knew how to do this anyway."

"You should have said so earlier."

Behind the desk, Orion sat in a chair, watching Regulus subtly transform Sirius from angrily fuming to eager to try. He held a teacup in his hand, his face expressionless, but a hint of relaxation in his eyes.

The younger son's coaxing skills are the same as when he fooled Walburga, but the target and the method have changed.

Walburga wanted to hear what she wanted to hear, so he gave it to her.

Sirius wants a sense of presence and the right to act; just give him that.

The methods may differ, but the core principle remains the same: knowing what the other party wants and then providing them with a perfectly tailored version.

Sirius is so easily appeased, who did he take after?

Orion shook his head slightly inwardly.

Regulus stood up and turned to Orion: "I'll head back now, Father."

Orion nodded. "Get some rest."

Sirius stood up from his chair, shrugged, and muttered, "I'm leaving too."

Orion looked at him. "Go."

The two brothers walked out of the Study one after the other, the door closing behind them with a low, resounding turn of the hinges before falling silent. The light from the wall lamps in the Corridor cast long shadows of the two men, stretching from their feet to the wall behind them.

Sirius followed Regulus, his mind racing between planning how to deal with Rababstan at the dinner party and replaying Regulus's earlier remarks.

Help me deal with Bellatrix. Rababstan is yours. Wait for the signal, one strike and you're good.

The more I think about it, the more excited I get.

He walked to his room door and paused.

Regulus didn't stop walking, only saying, "Goodnight, Sirius."

Sirius froze, not quite understanding. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Regulus continued walking forward, his footsteps fading into the distance in the Corridor.

Sirius stood by the door, watching Regulus turn into his bedroom. Then he shut his mouth, made a strange face, grimaced, pulled the corners of his mouth to the sides, and jutted his chin forward.

call.

Push the door open and go inside.

He took off the robe and threw it on the ground. It was an old robe; he wouldn't be able to wear it again once the Magic Power wore off. He didn't believe Walburga would let him wear an old robe to the banquet. He dared to wear it, but would Walburga dare let him?

Sirius sat on the edge of the bed, stretched his shoulders, and his joints clicked.

Then I sat still, something flickered in my mind, and the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt.

Regulus returned to his room and closed the door.

Baruk was still lying on the corner of the table. When he came in, it raised its front legs, its chelipeds opened and closed slightly, making a clicking sound.

"Kreacher."

Smack

Kreacher emerged from the air, holding a small plate with a palm-sized piece of raw Steak on it, the blood still dripping down the bottom.

It floated the dish onto the table, bowed to Regulus, and then disappeared.

Baruk's eight eyes all fixed on the piece of meat.

It crawled over from the corner of the table, lowered its front half, extended its pincers, gripped the edge of the Steak, twirled it halfway around, found a good angle to bite, and then snapped the whole thing onto the steak.

Crack.

The sound of fine fibers snapping rang out, several times in a row.

Its chelicerae constantly rotate, cut, and feed the meat, moving quickly and eating rapidly.

Blood trickled down its chelicerae, staining its bristles, but it didn't care.

Regulus watched it eat, his expression unchanged.

Baruk finished the Steak in less than a minute, leaving only a pool of blood and a few tough tendons on the plate.

It raised its forelegs and rubbed them against its chelicerae, as if wiping its mouth.

Regulus wiped the blood off the table with Scouring Charm and pushed the plate aside.

He sat at the table for a while, then went to wash up.

The sound of water echoed in the stone Washroom. Baruk lay on the table, the hairs on his legs standing on end as he sensed the vibrations. After a while, Regulus changed into a robe, the collar loose, and returned to the table.

Baruk had already shrunk back into the corner of the table, his eight legs tucked under his body, turning him into a ball.

Regulus pulled open the bottom drawer of the desk, and Baruk followed suit.

It unfolds from a spherical shape, with eight legs supporting it on the table, the two front legs extending towards the drawer, and its chelicerae half-open.

It's getting close.

Regulus freed one hand, palm down, and placed it on the table in front of Baruk to block it.

Baruk tapped his fingers lightly with his forelegs, and his chelicerae opened and closed twice, making a clicking sound.

"Don't touch it."

Baruk clicked again, his front legs still supporting him in the same position, no longer moving, but he leaned forward, trying to look with his eyes.

Regulus ignored it and took the Rune Box out and placed it on the table.

Open.

The Bone Box lay inside, with dark gold Rune affixed to the surface of the bone, flickering like breathing.

He closed his eyes, focused his mind inward, and shifted his perspective.

The Star Orbit are moving.