Hermes: You Used Fiendfyre Against Me?

After dinner, back in his Dormitory, Avery flopped onto his bed, pulled a copy of "Quidditch Season Review" from his bedside table, and yawned after flipping through a few pages. Alex sat down at his desk to organize his notes, dipping his quill pen in ink and copying line by line.

Hermes sat on the edge of the bed, wand resting on his knees, slowly wiping with a velvet cloth, his movements mechanical, his eyes somewhat vacant.

Baruk had just finished eating meat and was lying in the fireplace, its bristles glowing in the firelight, its carapace shimmering with a scaly sheen. Its eight legs were curled up under its body, and it lay there quietly.

Regulus wasn't in a hurry to go to the Room of Requirement, even though school had only been in session for a few days.

He didn't exactly force them to practice before; he just went, and they followed.

The first few days of school were busy; the professors were occupied, and he was also quite busy.

The news of the Christmas Banquet had been circulating throughout the holiday; those who needed to know knew, and its influence continued to spread.

The Black family's door is not easy to get into; it's not so easy for people from outside the school to stick their tails up to them.

For families to connect, the barriers are high and the channels are limited. To build a relationship, one needs a legitimate reason, equal status, and a suitable intermediary.

But Hogwarts is different.

Everyone attends classes and eats in the same Castle, seeing each other all the time. Their identities are naturally similar; they are all Slytherin, all Pure-bloods, and all classmates.

Outside of school, if someone is from a small or medium-sized family, it would take a lot of roundabout ways to get a word in with Black, and even then, you might not be able to.

On campus, we'd bump into each other in the Corridor between classes, move to the seat next to him during lunch, pretend to be looking up information in the Library and come over to say hello, and nod to each other wherever we met.

At least that's what those who want to post about it think.

For them, it was much easier for young wizards to connect with each other, or for classmates to connect with each other, than for families to connect with each other.

That's certainly not the case.

Regulus's position in Slytherin, the label of Heir of the Black family, is no longer quite enough.

In Slytherin today, every action—saying a few extra words, nodding, or even ignoring someone—is interpreted in different ways. Showing patience to a young wizard from a Pureblood families might earn that family a higher regard in the upcoming social season. Showing impatience to someone who approaches could spread outside the school as rumors of the Black family's cold attitude towards another family, affecting a collaboration or negotiation.

He doesn't even need to do anything; his attention itself is a resource.

The scene in the Common Room on the first day of school was just a brief glimpse.

In such situations, only the most general expressions of goodwill—a nod, a handshake, a welcome back—are appropriate; specific matters should not be discussed.

No one would approach Regulus and say, "My Mr. Black would like to discuss the procurement of Potions ingredients for next quarter" with dozens of eyes watching.

That's stupid.

Those who truly want to discuss business will look for opportunities in the coming days.

You might bump into someone in the Corridor, or meet them after class in a corner of the Common Room or among the bookshelves in the Library, using the pretext of asking a question or borrowing notes to give them a hint.

On the surface, it's a friendship between classmates; behind the scenes, it's a family affair.

During these first few days of school, Hogwarts ' Corridor and Common Room become a miniature version of Pure-bloods social spaces.

Regulus felt no burden about this.

He doesn't need to meet or talk to each person individually, nor does he need to deliberately maintain any sense of propriety.

He neither has the time nor the need.

Those who should be seen, will be seen; those who shouldn't be seen, will not be seen.

People who can be dismissed with a single sentence are not worth his time. Those who know to try again next time after being rejected are worth a few more words from. His standards are simple: those with brains deserve an extra minute, while those without brains don't even need a perfunctory response.

But if we greet them one by one, it would make everyone feel like they're having an equal dialogue with the Black family heir. That definitely won't work; there must be a threshold.

Avery and Alex, these two should be useful here.

Avery's role is clear: heir to the Cuthbert family, perfectly suited to connect with the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the top-ranking Pure-bloods. Alex is responsible for the Gentle Pureblood and smaller families.

Pure-bloods academies from other colleges are also making moves.

In the eyes of adult wizards, the house is never a faction. Hufflepuff Pure-bloods and Slytherin Pure-bloods are not distinguished by house crests when it comes to family interests.

Avery and Alex have been incredibly busy these past few days, while Regulus himself has been quite relaxed.

The two of them compiled the information they needed to know and told him; the information they didn't need to know, they kept to themselves.

He only needed to appear a few times in the Common Room, sitting on the same sofa in front of the fireplace, surrounded by Avery, Alex, and Hermes, reading or talking as he pleased.

If someone comes over to greet me, I nod in response; if someone brings up a topic, I chime in.

Those who want to get closer will find the right entrance themselves.

Those with enough influence approach Avery, those without enough influence approach Alex, and those with real brains will approach him directly at the right time. It's like an automated screening system; he just needs to sit in the center.

Hermes was not involved in these matters.

He didn't bring it up, Regulus wouldn't let him do it anyway, so it was best for everyone to just let things go peacefully.

After a few busy days, things have finally calmed down a bit.

Regulus sat at his desk when Baruk climbed out of the fireplace, shook the Mars off his bristles, and leaped onto his shoulder. Regulus tapped Baruk's carapace twice, and was about to open the book on basic Alchemy he had borrowed from the Library when Hermes ' voice came from the other side of the bed.

"What did you use at the Lestrange family?"

His tone wasn't full of curiosity; he just wanted to know, so he asked directly.

He finished wiping his wand, tossed the cloth aside, looked up, and his gaze fell on Regulus.

Regulus could sense that Hermes had an instinctive thirst for stronger Magic, not out of greed, but a pure drive. Hermes' attitude toward power had always been straightforward: if he wanted it, he would pursue it.

Avery threw the book down next to his pillow, sat up, peeked over, and his eyes lit up.

Alex also stopped writing, turned his chair around, and looked on with curiosity.

Regulus glanced at Hermes, a slight smile playing on his lips, "Want to try?"

Hermes ' eyes lit up too.

"The Room of Requirement"

Regulus stood up, and Baruk climbed down his shoulder, stepping on his sleeves, and crawled into the inner pocket of his robe.

The four of them walked through the Slytherin common room. It was almost eight o'clock. The Corridor was empty, and the dim light of the torches cast long shadows on the stone walls.

Regulus walked back and forth three times on the Seventh Floor, opposite the Tapestry, until a door appeared on the wall.

Pushing the door open, the Room of Requirement had automatically transformed into Training Ground.

The room features a high, domed ceiling and dark wood flooring that has a slight springiness that cushions the impact of a fall.

The four walls are made of smooth stone, with Rune engraved on the surface to absorb Magic Power and prevent spells from reflecting or damaging the walls.

In one corner of the room were several Training Dummy covered in thick leather, and in another corner was a wooden table with several books and practice tools on it. Regulus walked to the center of the arena, turned around, Hermes stood a dozen meters away opposite him.

Avery and Alex were standing a few meters to the side.

Regulus tilted his head slightly, gesturing to Baruk.

Baruk jumped off Regulus's shoulder, ran on his eight legs to Avery, tucked in his sleeve, and leaped onto Avery's head.

Avery paused for a moment, then grinned and raised an eyebrow at Alex with a smug look.

Alex glanced at him enviously, then curled the corner of his mouth in a smirk.

Baruk lay down on Avery's head, his eight amber eyes all fixed on the center of the field.

Hermes assumed a fighting stance, lowering his center of gravity and leaning forward, raising his wand to his chest—a standard dueling starting position.

He thought it was going to be a sparring session.

Regulus smirked, gripped his wand in his right hand, and swung it sharply.

Black flames were drawn from the tip of the staff, elongated, and solidified.

A whip fifteen or sixteen meters long unfurled in the air. Its body was jet black, with dark red patterns wrapped around it. The firelight did not shine outwards but was drawn inwards. The surrounding air was drawn into the whip by the high temperature. The whip tip hung in mid-air, and even before it moved, waves of heat surged outwards, making even breathing feel scorching.

The protective Rune on the walls sensed the Magic Power impact and began to hum and vibrate slightly, causing the entire Training Room to tremble gently.

Hermes ' pupils contracted slightly.

He instinctively waved his wand, the Shield Charm activated, and a silver barrier unfolded in front of him.

Regulus twisted his wrist, and the whip Cleansweep.

The whip tip grazed past Hermes a foot away, touching nothing, but the moment the air was torn apart, a sonic boom exploded. A sonic boom in a confined space is completely different from one in the wild. The sound waves hit the stone walls and bounced back, overlapping to create a muffled thud in the room, making the floor and ceiling tremble.

The shockwave slammed into the Shield Charm, causing the barrier to tremble violently. The Silver Light on its surface rippled outwards like water, taking several seconds to stabilize. Hermes was jolted back two steps, his jaw clenched, both hands gripping his wand, continuously channeling Magic Power to maintain the Shield Charm. His somber features took on a different quality in the firelight.

His brow bone was lowered, the light in his eye sockets was bright and focused, his lips were pursed into a line, all his indifference and emptiness were put away, and his whole face became focused.

Regulus swung his whip a second time, this time striking the front.

The whip lashed out in an arc, leaving a trail of black flames in the air.

Hermes's Shield Charm had reached its current limit; the translucent light barrier solidified, gleaming with a metallic silver sheen. The whip tip exploded an inch away from the surface of the Shield Charm.

The silver barrier trembled violently, Silver Light spread outwards from the point of impact, revealing fine cracks on its surface.

The barrier didn't break, but the impact passed through.

The moment Regulus unleashed his whip, he had already discerned the distribution of Magic Power in Hermes' Shield Charm.

The barrier remains because he allowed it to remain.

But the impact struck directly through the weak point, hitting Hermes through the barrier.

He was thrown back several meters, his feet screeching sharply on the wooden floor as he landed, finally coming to a stop against a Training Dummy.

The Shield Charm shattered, scattering into a shower of silver Light Point that floated in the air before extinguishing.

Regulus withdrew his hand, the Flame Whip swirling in the air before the black whip began to dissipate from its tip. The flaming fragments drifted a few times before extinguishing themselves before hitting the ground.

Hermes stood there, his hair disheveled by the impact, the collar of his robe askew, and his wand still raised.

He glanced down at himself; he wasn't injured or burned, but his chest felt tight, his head was buzzing, and lingering sonic booms echoed in his ears. He looked again at the wand in his hand; the tip was trembling slightly. The Magic Power output had been interrupted, and the Shield Charm was gone.

He looked up at Regulus, shook his head, and asked in a slightly trembling voice, "What is this?"

Regulus put his wand back into his sleeve and said casually, "Flame Whip, Fiendfyre Transfiguration."

Fiendfyre?

Hermes' lips twitched, his eye followed, and he asked incredulously, "You hit me with Fiendfyre?"

Avery leaned against the wall, a dozen meters away from Hermes, but the sonic boom in the enclosed space made no sense of distance.

The impact of the two whips bounced back and forth in the room several times, still carrying considerable force to him, making his chest feel tight and his ears ring for a while. But the expression on his face was complex, a mixture of shock, excitement, and a little bit of lingering fear.

Baruk held firmly to his hair with his eight legs, his amber eyes still fixed on the center of the arena, his chelicerae closed, appearing quiet. Alex took two steps back, his face a little pale.

Those two blows felt like the air was vibrating, and his lungs felt stuffy, as if someone had nudged his sternum with their elbow.

He swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the center of the field.