Sirius: Startling Regulus

"I mean," Sirius said, a hint of disbelief in his voice, pointing with his finger, "This is your pet? A spider?"

Regulus ignored him, stretched out his hand, palm up, and Baruk climbed out from his collar, down his shoulder and arm, into his palm, and then jumped onto the desk.

Eight dark red legs nimbly darted between letters and inkwells, dodging a stack of letters, stepping over a quill pen, and climbing all the way to the middle of the table. Then they continued forward, reaching the edge of the table near Sirius.

It stopped, placed its two front legs on the edge of the table, raised its upper body slightly, and opened and closed its chelipeds, making a clicking sound.

It's unclear whether it was a threat or a greeting.

It paced back and forth a few steps, its eight amber eyes scrutinizing Sirius from head to toe, then it turned and glanced at Regulus. Regulus nodded slightly.

Baruk turned back to face Sirius, opened and closed his pincers twice more, and then uttered a short syllable. "Baruk." Sirius sat up abruptly, causing his chair to slide backward.

He stared at the palm-sized spider, then looked up at Regulus, then looked down at the spider again.

Did it speak?

James once said that there are talking spiders in the Forbidden Forest, huge ones, several meters long, living in groups deep in the forest.

But that was a giant spider; this one, the size of a palm, can it talk?

He moved a little closer.

It was very different from the ordinary spider they kept in their Dormitory. They were about the same size, about the size of a palm, but it looked completely wrong. The color was wrong, the eyes were wrong, and the pattern around its joints was wrong. It didn't look like a normal spider at all.

Something's not right.

Seeing Sirius staring intently at it, Baruk took two steps with its eight legs, spread its chelicerae wide, and made a series of clicking sounds before uttering a shorter syllable. "Food."

After saying that, it continued to wave its claws, as if gesturing something, probably thinking that the person in front of it was edible, but it had to ask first.

Then it turned and ran, its eight legs thumping across the table, climbing onto Regulus's arm, and darting back onto his shoulder, where it huddled beside his collar, its eight eyes still fixed on Sirius.

Sirius's eyes widened as it followed Regulus's gaze until the creature climbed onto Regulus's shoulder, at which point it slowly turned back.

His face was a mixture of sourness and speechlessness; his lips drooped and his brows were furrowed.

"You're quite the talker," he said, staring at Regulus. "Just like you."

Regulus twitched the corner of his mouth.

A relaxed atmosphere dissipated, and the Study quieted down for a moment.

Regulus spoke directly, "Did Father tell you?"

Sirius was still staring at him, something flashing in his gray eyes. After a long while, he nodded.

Regulus didn't press for details about what was said and nodded.

There was another moment of silence.

"What's the next plan?" Regulus asked.

Sirius was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Regulus didn't reply; he just watched, his gaze calm.

Sirius frowned. "Practice Magic."

Regulus shook his head slightly. "That's not what I'm asking. I mean, what are your plans next?"

Sirius fell silent.

He knew what Regulus was asking: whether he would ever return to this home.

He lowered his head, staring at his hands resting on his knees. There were a few shallow cuts on his knuckles from training, and a thin callus had formed on the side of his index finger. He remained silent for a while.

Then he looked up and spoke casually, his tone deliberately relaxed. "Regulus, what if I don't come back?" Regulus's expression didn't change, and his tone was calm. "That's your business."

Sirius looked at him without saying a word.

His expression was unusually serious, lacking his usual nonchalant disdain and stubborn defiance; there was no anger in his gray eyes. He simply watched and waited.

He probably couldn't say for sure what he was waiting for, but he was just waiting for Regulus to say something more.

Regulus looked at his face, and after a while, said again, "Very good."

Sirius frowned. "Pretty good?"

Regulus nodded. "That's good."

Sirius stared at him. "Are you serious?"

Regulus continued nodding, "Seriously."

Sirius fell silent.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on a spot on the stack of letters on his desk, but he saw nothing in them.

His mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts, recalling what Orion had said to him before.

In his father's Study, with the fire in the fireplace, a few words dismantled and rearranged all the resistance and persistence he had held over the past two years.

Now Regulus says it's fine, that it's your business, which points in the same direction as what his father said back then.

He vaguely sensed that they didn't stop him; they never had.

No one stopped him when he chose Gryffindor, no one stopped him when he silently resisted at home, and no one stops him now that he wants to leave.

Perhaps they didn't care, or perhaps they supported him in taking the path he wanted to take, but no one ever truly stood in the middle of the road to prevent him from crossing.

Regulus said it was fine, just like when he told him he wanted to go home, he was serious.

Sirius shrugged, his tone becoming lighter. "Okay."

There was another moment of silence.

Then he opened his mouth as if to ask something, but paused.

He looked at Regulus, his expression neither serious nor casual. "Then we..."

Regulus glanced at him, his tone unchanged, and nodded. "You still have the surname Black, don't you?"

Sirius opened his mouth slightly, then closed it again.

Then he took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and let his gaze drift to the ceiling.

In the end, he only said, "Okay."

The atmosphere completely relaxed, Sirius slumped back in his chair, stretching his legs out and crossing them over the table legs.

He casually asked, "Where have you been these past few days?"

Regulus raised the corners of his mouth slightly. "Practice Magic."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

Regulus is like that again; he always disappears for a few days during his holidays, going somewhere who knows where. When he comes back, he doesn't say anything, and if you ask, he just tells you he's practicing Magic.

They're already that powerful, isn't that enough?

He knew that the gap between him and Regulus was enormous.

But he refused to admit defeat.

He probably couldn't catch Regulus in a fight; even the most stubborn man knows he has no chance in a head-on confrontation.

But Magic isn't just about fighting; he had other ideas.

Transfiguration.

He has a talent for this; the advanced directions of Transfiguration are very broad, Animagus is one of them.

He has already begun preparations.

Once he masters it, even if he can't defeat someone with a single strike of Thunderous Regulus, he's still no less skilled in Transfiguration.

Thinking of this, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up.

Regulus had no idea what he was so pleased about, and didn't bother to ask.

Sirius stood up, his expression completely relaxed.

He didn't ask those questions today—the gray Magic Power at the Christmas Banquet, the green light emanating from the wand, whether Regulus was faking it or not. Perhaps he'll ask them someday, but not today.

"I'm going to training." He glanced at Regulus, asking if he wanted to come along.

Regulus ignored him.

Sirius chuckled, turned and walked into the Training Room, the Stone Gate closing behind him.

Regulus sat in Orion's chair for a few more moments, then stood up and walked toward his room.

Back in the bedroom, Baruk jumped off his shoulder and landed on the desk, looking up at him with his chelicerae opening and closing slightly. "The Great Spider." Regulus's lips curled into a smile, "Hmm, the Great Spider."

Baruk clicked his tongue, spun around on the table, then crawled back up the edge of the table onto the pillow, curling himself into a fluffy, dark red ball. In the evening, Walburga and Orion returned.

Dinner started on time.

Inside the restaurant, the decor was the same as before, with a long table covered with a dark green tablecloth and candles burning neatly on silver candlesticks.

Tonight's meal consists of Roast Lamb Chops with Rosemary, mashed potatoes with black truffle, cream soup, bread rolls, Butter, and a pot of hot tea.

The four men sat at the table, with Orion at the head of the table, Walburga to his right, and Regulus and Sirius opposite him.

Regulus picked up his knife and fork, cut off a piece of Lamb Chop, took a bite, and looked up from his plate at Walburga.

She was dressed as impeccably as ever, in a dark blue house robe with silver embroidery on the collar and cuffs, her hair was styled in a neat updo, and she wore earrings and pendants.

She was quiet tonight, but unlike the silence that followed the Christmas Banquet.

At that time, she seemed more like someone who had been shocked and was in a daze, as if something had been taken away from her. Now that the daze had passed, only a calm remained. Her mother calmed down, probably because her father had said what needed to be said and comforted her.

He had previously passed the buck to his father at the dinner table, but now it seems he handled it well.

Regulus thought about it and felt that this was the correct approach.

My father is experienced; we've been married for over twenty years, and he can handle these kinds of situations with ease.

He looked away, continued eating, and didn't think about it anymore.

Walburga put down his knife and fork, picked up his teacup, took a sip, put it down, and looked at Regulus.

The way she looked at Regulus was Taiyi before.

She used to look at this son with a light in her eyes.

That was the most prestigious medal the Black family could boast about, the pride she could show off to all the Pure-bloods ladies at the tea party, and the best offering she could make to the family's honor.

She looked at him as if she were looking at a mirror engraved with the Black family crest, a mirror reflecting the dignity of Pure-bloods, the family legacy, and her own hard work.

The light has now dimmed.

Her gaze was still on him, but there was something else in it now. She was still looking at him, but she was no longer sure what she was looking at. Perhaps she was trying to find a new way to see her son, but she hadn't found it yet.

Walburga put down his teacup, his tone lacking its usual enthusiasm, and asked in a flat voice, "How is Cornwall?"

"It's very good," Regulus said, cutting Lamb Chop and looking up at his mother. "Ms. Agnes has taken excellent care of me."

"Are you cold?" Walburga asked again.

Regulus slowly shook his head. "The sea breeze in Cornwall is strong, but not cold."

Walburga nodded, his tone finally showing a hint of criticism, but he held back. "How was the food? Was her cooking good?" Regulus patiently replied, "It was good, quite substantial."

His answers were the same as before; he answered her questions in a gentle, unhurried manner, giving her the answers she wanted to hear.

Walburga listened quietly to Regulus's reply, then nodded, picked up his teacup, and took another sip.

Regulus noticed the change, but didn't dwell on it.

Just as I predicted, Father has calmed her down. How exactly he did it, what methods he used, and what he said are not his concern. The effect was good; Mother has quieted down and stopped making a fuss, which is good.

Walburga asked a few more questions, Regulus answered them one by one, his tone always gentle and his manner always appropriate.

The mother and son chatted for a few minutes, talking about everyday things and random topics.

This time, however, Walburga didn't insert any content about Pure-bloods social interactions, family honor, or recent developments during the conversation.

She was just talking to her son, nothing more.

The dining table fell silent, save for the clinking of cutlery against Porcelain Plates and the soft crackling of candle wicks.

Orion remained silent throughout, as did Sirius.

He kept observing, his eyes darting back and forth between Regulus and Walburga.

Orion finished his last bite, put down his knife and fork, took a sip of tea, wiped his mouth with a napkin, glanced at Regulus, and said, "Finished eating? Come to the Study."

Then he got up and left.

Regulus put down his knife and fork. "Yes, Father."

He stood up and looked at Walburga: "Mother, I'm going to the Study."

Walburga looked up and said softly, "Go."

Regulus nodded, then turned and left.

Sirius watched his retreating figure disappear at the end of the Corridor, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

They abandoned him again.

He curled his lip, his face full of disdain, stood up, and left.

Walburga was the only one left in the restaurant.