If You Aren't Mad, How Can I Be?

The smoke dissipated slowly in the Banquet Hall, and gray mist spread outwards along the cracked floor, broken into pieces by the collapsed long tables and crooked stone pillars.

The situation on the field is now very clear.

Regulus had no intention of having a proper talk with Bellatrix; that was his goal from the start.

Bellatrix's previous performance—circling around him, patting his shoulder, leaning down to whisper in his ear, and bringing up the ketchup incident in public—was all delivered with the tone of an elder disciplining an unruly junior.

She thought everything was in her hands, that this was just a bit of entertainment after the event was over, and that Regulus was a child she could easily put down and deal with.

As a result, the child had grown claws and fangs.

When he passed the buck to Rodolphus, some thought he was just changing the subject.

When Sirius was sent to fight Rababstan, some people thought it was an impulsive decision.

When Bellatrix drew her wand to strike Sirius, Regulus stopped her. Only then did everyone realize that he was pushing her toward Sirius.

The methods weren't particularly sophisticated; each step was straightforward and straightforward, without any clever tricks or intricacies.

But the result was beyond everyone's expectations.

Bellatrix was sent flying by a twelve-year-old wizard in the Banquet Hall of her own manor.

He was covered in bruises, with cuts on his shoulders, burns on his arms, several holes burned in his robe, and a section of his hair was broken off. He had also been thrown four or five meters by an Explosion Charm, crashing into a stone pillar and sliding down.

Orion stood by the fireplace, his hand still on Walburga's wrist, his eyes fixed on the center of the court.

He knew this wasn't the real beginning.

Others saw Regulus as the winner, or at least as the one who had the upper hand, but he knew that wasn't the case.

Regulus used only standard spells from beginning to end: the Shield Charm, the Cutting Curse Charm, the Explosion Charm, the Transfiguration Reducto, the Disillusionment Charm, plus Sidestep and Sprint.

The battle showcased a precise mastery of spells and a combat prowess far beyond his years, exceeding everyone's expectations. However, this was merely a contest of standard spells, far from a serious fight.

Bellatrix is the same.

It looks like he was at a disadvantage, injured, and even knocked away, but aside from the embarrassment, the actual damage was negligible.

Even those wounds weren't worth the effort of warming up for her.

Bellatrix was the core of the Death Eaters and Voldemort's most trusted follower.

The name "Death Eaters" has not been officially used in public yet, but it is no secret in private.

Bellatrix is involved in all of these cases: the disappearances that happened in the shadows, the Muggle-born wizards found dead in their homes, and several Attacks that were suppressed by the Ministry of Magic.

She had done the work, more than once or twice.

Murder, interrogation, crime scene cleanup, traitor disposal—she has tortured more people with her Dark Arts than the guests at tonight's banquet.

She wasn't just all talk; she put all that enthusiasm into practice.

The scent of Dark Arts seeping into one's soul could not be hidden from a skilled wizard.

Even without using Dark Arts, the skills honed on the battlefield, the Spellcasting techniques honed solely for killing, are deadly enough.

But she hasn't really used these things yet.

In their previous encounter, Bellatrix had been fighting with the mindset of disciplining a child, gradually increasing her power, from probing to taking it seriously to going all out. But there was always a bottom line: she didn't want to cripple the Heir of the Black family. That bottom line held her back, preventing her from reaching her full potential.

Now that they've been knocked out of the game, it's hard to say whether that bottom line is still there.

Orion's gaze shifted from the center of the court to the hand that was pressing down on Walburga's wrist.

From the Sirius started hitting Rababstan, he held her down and hasn't let go since.

She struggled a few times, each time with less force, until finally she stopped struggling altogether.

From the outside, they looked like a loving couple, as if she depended on him, standing hand in hand watching the younger generation compete.

Of course not, she just didn't know what to do.

Walburga looked towards the center of the field, where Regulus was walking through the Grey Mist toward Bellatrix.

She still had the words she had said to Regulus before she came to her mind.

She told him in the Entrance Hall to have a good talk with Bellatrix, that there's nothing a family can't resolve.

She said Bellatrix was one of them, that Bellatrix was now the Master of the Lestrange family, and that the Dark Lord valued the Black family.

She made Regulus bow his head because she believed Bellatrix was of higher status.

This wasn't flattery; she never flattered anyone. The Master of the Black family didn't need to flatter anyone.

But Bellatrix is a recognized powerful Dark Wizard, and Bellatrix reputation is quite high among certain groups within the Pure-blood Circle.

Families Attacks by Death Eaters, people whose doors were broken into in the dead of night—their voices tremble when they mention the name Bellatrix.

Walburga knew all this, so she used social hierarchy to manage her relationship with Bellatrix.

Bellatrix is backed by Voldemort, Bellatrix herself is a powerful Dark Wizard, which is why Bellatrix's rank is high.

When those of higher rank speak, those of lower rank should listen.

This is the rule of Pure-bloods social interaction, and she has lived her whole life within this rule.

So she made Regulus bow his head.

It wasn't a matter of right or wrong; it was simply that, in her view, given the Black family's current situation, it wouldn't be worthwhile to clash head-on with the power behind Bellatrix.

She has been the Master of the Black family for over twenty years, and every decision she has made has been within this framework.

Who to befriend, who to avoid, what to say in what situations, and when to advance and when to retreat.

They relied on the Pure-bloods circle, family marriages and connections, social networks, their position in Wizengamot and their relationships within the Ministry of Magic, and the wealth and reputation accumulated by the Black family over generations.

This is how she runs a family business.

These things are useful, and they always have been useful.

But she was not only the Master of the Black family; she was also a member of the Black family.

She believed in the glory of Pure-bloods, she pursued the Black family's status in the Wizarding World, and she knew where these things came from.

She understood even better that these things were useful because no single force could overthrow them all.

The most fundamental logic in the Wizarding World has never been these things; the most fundamental logic is power itself.

If the power held by an individual is great enough to bypass marriage alliances, industry, politics, and social connections and directly determine the outcome, and is great enough to overturn everything, then nothing else matters.

She knew this; she always had.

But knowing something and actually experiencing it are two different things.

The Black family doesn't have that kind of power. Orion is very strong, she knows, but Orion's strength is within the framework of the Black family. He protects the family and doesn't use his power to do things outside that framework, so her method is the one that works.

Because within that framework, social connections, politics, and networks are the hard currency.

Where is Bellatrix?

After Bellatrix followed that Dark Lord, she became a different kind of symbol.

She possessed something beyond personal power; she had someone behind her who could change the entire situation.

This made Bellatrix stand out in Walburga's eyes.

So she spoke up for Bellatrix, gave Bellatrix a way out, and instructed her son to apologize to Bellatrix. The wording didn't matter; it was essentially a concession.

Now she saw her youngest son send Bellatrix flying, and they were locked in a direct confrontation, unleashing spell after spell.

Bellatrix was injured and thrown against a pillar by the Explosion Charm, while Regulus wasn't even covered in dust.

Her mental calculations were still working, but one crucial element had changed.

She consistently viewed these relationships through the lens of social hierarchy; Bellatrix held a higher position, therefore she had to yield.

But what about the hierarchy of power?

Her youngest son was walking through the smoke, his gait as usual in Grimmauld Place, without a trace of anything superfluous. Regulus was only twelve years old; without Voldemort standing behind him, he single-handedly sent Bellatrix flying.

The Dark Lord who had been giving in all along was now kneeling on one knee amidst the rubble.

Walburga's lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.

Something in her mind was loosening; it hadn't shattered yet, but it was already cracking.

Orion felt the pressure on his hand change, so he loosened his grip slightly but didn't let go.

Bellatrix got up from the ground.

He held the kneeling position for a few seconds, pressed his left hand on the gravel, then straightened up and stood firmly.

The upper part of her dress was torn in several places, and the fabric on her right shoulder had been pulverized by Reducto, revealing pale skin and spiderweb-like cracks underneath. The burns on her Left Arm had already formed a thin scab, and her curly hair fell down, covering half of her face, while the other half was covered in ash and sweat. She stood on a pile of rubble, her wand gripped in her right hand, tip pointing downwards, trembling slightly.

She brushed her hair away from her face with her left hand, revealing a pair of bright eyes that didn't look like she had just been beaten. Her pupils were dilated, and her breathing was shallow and rapid. Her entire face gleamed with an unhealthy light beneath the dust and blood.

A lingering smile hung at the corners of his mouth, his expression more like an instinctive reaction; the muscles at the corners of his lips twitched slightly, like a smile, yet also like something deeper pushing outwards.

Being knocked away did not deter her.

On the contrary, she was excited.

Regulus walked toward her, stepping over a broken table leg and swerving around a flipped-up floor tile.

His steps were slow, his arms hung naturally at his sides, his wand held in his right hand with the tip pointing downwards, tracing a small arc as he walked. There was no dust or scorch marks on his robes, his hair was neat, and his breathing was steady.

Bellatrix's gaze followed him, and he looked back at Bellatrix.

He knew her state; Bellatrix was more excited and more dangerous than before, but it wasn't enough.

She was still using regular spells, which were already quite powerful, but they remained stuck on that line; she wasn't using Dark Arts.

not enough.

What he wanted was Bellatrix's true madness, that kind of recklessness, that surge from the depths of her soul, something she couldn't even suppress herself.

Only when it reaches that stage can the rest of the story continue.

If she's not crazy, how could he be?

If he weren't insane, what would Voldemort be looking at?

We need to give it another push.