Kind Roommates

The Dormitory was very quiet.

Outside the window is the bottom of Black Lake, where several luminous jellyfish are slowly drifting past the glass, their transparent, umbrella-shaped bodies contracting and expanding, creating rings of tiny phosphorescent light.

Further away, the shadow of a Giant Squid slid past the window, its tentacles trailing lazily behind it, stirring the seaweed and causing it to sway gently. The shimmering green light of the water filtered in through the window, mingling with the firelight from the fireplace inside, and illuminating the four Four-poster bed, the dark green curtains gleaming with a somber glow.

Alex walked to his bedside, his shoulders finally slumped, and he let out a long sigh.

The scene just now was a bit too much for him; too many people, too many eyes, too much eagerness that he wasn't good at handling.

Now that he's back in his Dormitory and the door is closed, all those stares are blocked from the outside, and he finally feels relieved.

Hermes stared at Regulus for a moment, then walked straight to his bedside, threw himself onto the bed without even taking off his robe, causing the curtains to sway twice and the bed to make a dull thud.

He lay there, hands on his stomach, staring at the top of the curtains, motionless like a corpse.

Alex glanced at him, then turned back. Just as he was about to speak, something flicked off Regulus's shoulder out of the corner of his eye.

Dark red, palm-sized, with eight legs spread out in the air, it landed on the floor with a very soft thud, then trotted towards the desk. Baruk ran under the desk, his front four legs gripping the seam between two drawers, while his hind four legs pushed against the bottom drawer, pulling it open a crack, and squeezing his whole body inside.

A series of clattering sounds came from inside the drawer, mixed with the scraping of wood, as if it were checking something or confirming that its territory was still there. A few seconds later, Baruk emerged again, hooked its front paws around the edge of the drawer, and pushed it back shut. Then it turned and ran towards the bed, crawling along the sheet to the pillow, curling up its eight legs into a dark red ball of fur. Regulus watched its antics but ignored it.

Baruk had already slept in his bed in Grimmauld Place, so there was no need to chase him back to the drawer at Hogwarts. He didn't shed, so he could stay wherever he wanted. Alex's gaze followed Baruk around for a moment, and only after seeing him curled up on his pillow did he come to his senses and whisper to him, "Hey, Baruk, long time no see."

Baruk shifted, his two front legs sticking out from under his body and waving in Alex's direction—it was unclear whether this counted as a greeting—before retracting.

Alex smiled, perhaps lost in thought, and didn't notice Baruk's change in expression.

Regulus took off his cloak and hung it on the bedpost, walked to the desk, sat down, and turned to look at Alex.

He had already figured it out; Alex had something to say.

I'd been holding it in since the train journey, all day long, from London to Scotland, from the carriages to the halls to the Common Room, but I hadn't found a suitable opportunity to speak.

Alex walked over and stood beside him, his tone unhurried but serious. "During the holidays, the Roxier family had visitors."

Regulus raised an eyebrow, signaling him to continue.

He knew Alex was referring to the main branch.

Alex's family doesn't refer to themselves as the Roxier family; that title is reserved for the main branch. For a side branch to claim to be the Roxier is considered improper.

That's not surprising.

At the Christmas Banquet, Cygnus Roxier specifically spoke with him about Alex and thanked him in person.

The Roxier family used Alex as a flexible and measured link between Black and Roxier.

"The man who came was named Finn Roxier," Alex said. "He's the Patriarch's nephew, in his early thirties, in charge of external relations for the main branch. He talked with my father for an entire afternoon."

Regulus nodded.

He had heard of the name Finn Roxier before. He wasn't part of the core decision-making team, but he could represent the Patriarch on business trips. He was influential enough, but not too formal. This arrangement was quite tactful.

Alex continued, "He said he could arrange a better position for my father, in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, an administrative post, records and filing."

Regulus nodded again.

Alex's father works as an administrative officer in the Department of Magical Transportation at the Ministry of Magic. His job is to maintain the Floo Network and approve Broomstick registrations. It's a low-ranking position with a modest salary and mundane tasks, but it's a stable job.

Feint's new direction is a level higher than his current one, with a much better salary and a wider range of contacts.

Alex hesitated for a moment, but then spoke up, "He also told me about what happened at the Christmas Banquet during the holidays."

After he finished speaking, he looked at Regulus and found that his expression had not changed.

Alex seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, but also a sense of relief at the same time.

Regulus didn't deny it, which meant he admitted it; what Finn said was true. Regulus really did hit someone and burn down their house. Regulus looked up at him, Alex continued, "They talked about the dinner party first, then said they brought up the transfer because I was with you." "Finn's attitude was quite frank," he added, "He put everything out in the open, no beating around the bush."

Regulus's lips twitched slightly.

Indeed, it was open and honest.

There are no veiled hints here; the logic is laid bare.

Because you are close to the Black family heir, we are willing to help your family. It has nothing to do with blood ties or friendship, that's all. But this frankness itself is a strategy, packaging goodwill as pragmatism, so that the Alex family doesn't feel like they are being given charity, and so that Regulus can't find fault with it.

Regulus looked at him, his tone calm, and asked, "How did you know you should come and talk to me?"

Alex was a little embarrassed. "My father said so."

"The night Finn left, my father sat at the dinner table for a long time, then told me, 'I'll go back to school and talk to you.' He looked at Regulus. 'He didn't explain why, but I understood what he meant.'"

Alex finished speaking and looked at Regulus.

Regulus gestured to the chair beside him. "Sit."

Alex moved a chair over and sat down.

He had barely settled into his seat when another person appeared behind him.

Hermes had somehow gotten out of bed and, like a ghost, silently stood behind Alex, his eyes somewhat wooden, staring blankly at Regulus.

His face was expressionless, his eyelids were half-closed, and it was hard to tell whether he was still half asleep or lost in thought; he just stood there.

Regulus ignored him; the guy had been out of sorts all day, who knows what he did at home during his vacation.

He looked at Alex and asked, "What's your family's opinion?"

Alex shook his head, his tone earnest. "My father sent me to ask you what you think."

Regulus understood that his family had their own ideas.

They sent Alex not to ask for advice, but simply to let him know their family's stance.

We tend to accept it, but since you are the cause of this matter, we respect your opinion.

This is a statement that we did not make the decision on your behalf, although your consent is not required.

Alex's father was a man with survival wisdom.

He spent over a decade at the very bottom of the Ministry of Magic, never taking sides, never standing out, just reading the newspapers and sighing. After sighing, he would go eat. But when it was time to make a statement, he knew what to do.

Regulus didn't care about these things, but since Alex had asked, he would just say a few words as a way of expressing his opinion.

"Your father's current position, the Department of Magical Transportation, doesn't concern him with anything important."

He looked at Alex: "It doesn't matter, nobody's watching."

Alex listened, Hermes, whether he was listening or not, seemed to be listening.

"You've seen the situation yourself." Regulus's voice was flat, and he was saying things that anyone with a little knowledge could see.

"The war hasn't come yet, but it will come sooner or later. When that time comes, key departments will be the first to be infiltrated."

Those sitting in those positions are the first to express their opinions, and once they do, they're under scrutiny; both sides will try to pull them in.

"Your father's current position is secure; nobody's pulling him down, nobody's watching him. Even if a fight breaks out, nobody's going to bother an officer in charge of Broomstick registration."

Alex kept his head down.

Regulus's words were almost identical to those of his father.

His father worked as a low-level clerk in the Ministry of Magic for over a decade. No one fawned over him, no one threatened him, and his name was never on the promotion list. But over the years, many officials of higher rank than him got into trouble, were transferred, demoted, or got involved in shady dealings and disappeared. His father, however, still sat behind that old desk, going to work on time every morning and returning home on time every evening.

He's not stupid. He knows that position doesn't pay well, but at least it's safe. The problem is, now someone's brought a ladder over. If he just nods, his life can be improved.

Regulus glanced at him, knowing what he was thinking, and then said, "But don't worry too much."

Alex looked up.

"The Roxier family isn't here to make enemies. They won't push you into a fire pit. An administrative position in the Department of International Magical Cooperation is more respectable than your current one. It's not a powerful department, not the Department of Mysteries, not the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You wouldn't even be considered for that position in the Ministry of Magic's internal factionalism." He twitched his lips slightly. "The Roxier family is here to cultivate relationships. They want your family to be better off and to have a closer relationship with the Black family, nothing more."

"If we put your father in a risky position and something happens when war breaks out, then this act of kindness will become a liability. The Roxier family won't do something so foolish."

Mature people leave room for others in every step they take. The Roxier family has lived for hundreds of years, so they still have this sense of propriety.

Alex was silent for a moment, thinking.

Acceptance meant that their family had officially entered the main branch of Roxier's network of relationships, and their bond with Regulus had deepened.

Father's job will be better, more respectable, and his income will improve. Mother will no longer have to haggle with stall owners in Diagon Alley over the price of fabric.

If they don't accept, the Roxier family won't make things difficult for them; they can simply return the goodwill they offered. The main branch won't turn against them because of a branch's refusal. However, the signal isn't good. If even the goodwill from those around Black isn't being accepted, is it because they think it's insufficient, or are there other considerations?

The Roxier family will have many thoughts, and other families who are observing the situation may also have many thoughts.

As for Regulus, Alex knew him well; even if he didn't accept it, he wouldn't think much of it, and he wouldn't bother with such a trivial matter.

But Alex's father didn't understand Regulus. His judgment was that he should accept the offer; it would be good for everyone, and refusing would be unfair to both sides. He looked up at Regulus and said earnestly, "Thank you, Regulus."

Regulus waved his hand, shook his head slightly, and said nothing more.

Alex stood up, moved the chair back, walked to his bed, and began packing his luggage.

Regulus turned his head and looked at Hermes.

Hermes was still standing there, his eyes fixed on Regulus's face. He hadn't moved at all while talking to Alex.

Regulus gestured to him with his eyes, signaling him to speak.

Hermes spoke without hesitation, "My father told me to stop practicing Dark Arts and follow you, to see how you practice, what you practice, and how you make judgments under pressure. I need to remember everything."

His tone was a complete repetition, every word a direct quote from Abros Mulciber, without any embellishment. Regulus looked at him, almost wanting to laugh.

This guy completely abandons thinking; he does whatever others tell him to do, skipping the process of understanding and processing, and directly handing over the raw information, making him extremely efficient.

Regulus could understand Abros's thoughts.

Unlike other Pureblood families, the Mulciber family is not good at politics, not enthusiastic about socializing, and has no interest in family marriages. What they care about is Magic itself.

The most powerful Patriarch of the Mulciber family throughout history were all genuinely skilled in Magic.

Abros probably learned of his progress in Magic through some means, perhaps news after the Christmas Banquet, or perhaps Hermes relaying it to him.

It's hard to say exactly how much, but it was at least enough to make the head of the Mulciber family decide to have his son stop practicing Dark Arts and follow him. As for Hermes, Regulus never hid anything from him.

When Hermes was practicing Magic, he didn't shy away from being present. He brought him along during training sessions and didn't hold back when giving guidance. He let him watch and learn as he pleased; Hermes never stopped him.

"I didn't stop you," Regulus said casually.

Hermes shrugged, indicating that he knew he was merely repeating his father's words, and once he finished, his task was complete.

Then he asked his second question, about straight shots, without any preamble. "So how did you train?"

Regulus looked at him and thought about it seriously.

How did you train?

This is the first time someone has asked this question.

From birth, he possessed an exceptionally keen Magic Perception, far exceeding the range and precision of ordinary people's perception.

He possesses an innate modeling system in his mind; any basic Magic will be automatically broken down into structure, parameters, and operational logic. He began practicing Magic Manipulation at the age of five, and could cast the Shield Charm without a wand before starting school.

I started practicing Star Orbit Meditation last year, and I've been simultaneously strengthening my Magic Power, spirit, and body for a year and a half.

In addition, the scientific knowledge and rational thinking he brought from his previous life were integrated into every aspect of his learning Magic.

How do you explain these things?

I can't say.

He looked at Hermes and said the same words he had spoken to Sirius: "Think."

Hermes blinked. "Thinking?"

"Yes," Regulus nodded, his tone relaxed. "Think clearly before you practice Magic: what are you practicing, why are you practicing it this way, and why are these spells like this?"

What's the difference between having them in your hands and having them in someone else's? Besides the Magic Power itself, is there anything else?

Think things through before you act; it's more effective than blindly practicing a hundred times.

Technically correct, but it's like saying nothing at all. Magic Manipulation, on the other hand, can be taught; it's not a rare skill.

He taught Alex, and he taught Lily; one more Hermes wouldn't make a difference. This is a fundamental skill with endless applications.

Hermes nodded thoughtfully, then frowned.

think?

Do you have to think before you practice Magic?

He was seriously considering how he should think about it.

After about five seconds, his eyes gradually went blank, his brows slowly relaxed, his pupils lost focus, and he stood there as if his computer had crashed. He gave up thinking.

Alex watched from the side, his lips twitching, but he held back a laugh.

Hermes snapped out of his reverie, noticed Alex watching him, a hint of impatience flashed across his face, he snorted, turned and went back to his bed, collapsing headfirst into the floor, causing the curtains to sway twice more.

The Dormitory was quiet for a while.

Alex continued packing his luggage, Hermes lay on the bed staring at the top of the curtains, Baruk curled up in a ball beside his pillow.

The shimmering light of the Black Lake outside the window moved slowly across the ceiling. A luminous jellyfish drifted past the window, its pale blue light circling the Dormitory before dimming.

After a while, the door was pushed open.

Avery walked in, his face a fascinating mix of excitement, satisfaction, and a hint of lingering enjoyment, radiating the warmth of someone who had just accomplished a momentous mission.

He plopped down on his bed, the wooden planks creaking, looked at Regulus, opened his mouth, and had a lot to say. He'd wanted to say it ever since he boarded the train, but hadn't had the chance; people kept bothering him. Now that he was back in his Dormitory, he could finally. He went to Grimmauld Place.

During the Christmas holidays, his father, Old Cuthbert, took him there; the heir of the Cuthbert family formally visited the Black family. He wore a new robe, a silver brooch, and even his hair was styled like an adult's.

Upon arriving at 12 Grimmauld Place, the House-elf opened the door, and Black family received them in the Drawing Room. They drank tea and discussed Wizengamot's proposal and this year's Pureblood Alliance Spring Meeting.

Everything was formal, everything was proper.

But Regulus wasn't home.

He took a deep breath, preparing to speak.

Then his expression slowly changed; the excitement faded, his lips pursed, and his face was filled with sorrow.

"During the holidays," he looked at Regulus, his tone accusing, "My father took me to Grimmauld Place."

Regulus looked up at him.

"But you weren't home."

Avery's eyes were like those of a dog left at home by its the Master without being taken for a walk.