Everyone is Quite Wealthy

Apparition landed on a white stone path beneath my feet, so smooth that not even a seam could be seen, stretching from the iron fence outside the manor all the way to the porch. The lawns on both sides were a neat, lush green; such a large expanse of green in February was clearly nurtured by Magic, not a single weed was visible, exuding an air of grandeur. In the distance, several white peacocks strolled on the lawn, seemingly unfazed by the cold weather, displaying their tails in a dazzling display of white plumage, almost blindingly so in the afternoon sun.

Regulus looked up at the manor.

Ivory-white stone walls stretch out in a continuous line, with several pointed roofs piercing straight into the sky. The walls are so bright they are dazzling, and the carvings at the base of the walls and the silver trim on the window frames reflect the light everywhere.

Ten minutes ago he was standing on that scorched Wasteland in Yorkshire, the stench of Werewolf still lingering in his nostrils, and now he's standing here. Last time he came was for the Christmas Banquet, arriving after dark; this time it's broad daylight, and the place is excessively bright under the sun. Both are Pure-bloods homes, but the difference is vast.

The old house in Grimmauld Place is tucked away in the Muggle neighborhood, its curtains drawn all year round, making it feel like entering a cave.

The Black family is not short of money.

The shops in Knockturn Alley, the apothecaries in Diagon Alley, the Alchemy Shop, the Plantation in Cornwall, the Herb Garden in Wales, the alchemy workshops in Scotland, the Magical Creature Farm in Ireland, the vineyards in France, the Ore Mine in Germany, the Spice Plantation in India, the Magical Creature Sanctuary in North Africa —their industries are as numerous as anyone else's, with several industrial chains, all producing tangible goods that are not sold externally.

The Malfoy family, on the other hand, seemed to want to brick up Galleon in their walls so all of UK could see them.

Regulus felt that as long as you have enough money, you can still eat and sleep. How much more particular can you be?

But looking at this lawn and the white peacocks, it's truly exquisite.

Lucius released his hand from his shoulder, straightened his robe, and gestured to the side, "We've arrived."

Back on his own turf, he felt completely relaxed. His Malfoy -like reserve was still there, but he no longer tried to maintain it; he was much more natural. Two House-elf came out of the gate to greet him, bowing low. They wore clean linen robes with the Malfoy crest embroidered on the collar, the silver threads shimmering in the sunlight.

Regulus glanced at him; Kreacher was more energetic and cleaner Kreacher.

Kreacher's big eyes were always watery; the Tea Towel had been washed again and again, almost losing its color, but the edges were still neatly ironed.

These two in front of me, on the other hand, look like they've never cried.

Upon entering the Entrance Hall, one's reflection is visible on the marble floor, and the gilded reliefs on the pillars depict scenes of successive Malfoy family patriarchs making covenants with Dragon and Griffin.

In the corner stood a life-sized silver statue, the first Patriarch holding a magic wand, the Diamond at the tip scattering light into countless fragments on the ground.

Regulus glanced at them, then looked away; he had seen these before.

More than a year has passed, and the furnishings in the manor haven't been moved at all.

A thought suddenly popped into his head: Where is the reconstruction of the Lestrange Manor going right now?

I heard that the original site is now overgrown with grass. After Rodolphus ran away, there was no further activity; not a single brick was moved from that scorched earth.

They've probably moved to a different location; that means they're trying to bide their time, quietly building up their strength, waiting for the day they can get their revenge.

Regardless of the circumstances, rebuilding on the original site is despicable; rebuilding elsewhere to seek revenge is also despicable, as they are plotting an even greater revenge.

Either way, there's a right way to die.

He twitched his lips, then dismissed the thought.

"I was hoping to give you a proper welcome," Lucius said, leading him inside. "Narcissa made all the arrangements early on; she insisted on keeping an eye on things herself." He turned his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Father's in France on business, so he's not here. There are no outsiders at home, just the few of us. Make yourselves at home."

Regulus nodded.

Without any elders around, there aren't many rules. This meal is for him, so eating comfortably is the most important thing.

Lucius glanced at the sky outside the window, raising an eyebrow slightly. "I didn't expect things to go so smoothly today, so I arranged the banquet a little late. But the moment you stood there, that wolf chickened out on its own. It was much more efficient than I anticipated."

He gestured. "The guest room is ready. Let's rest first, and we'll have a proper meal tonight."

Regulus didn't refuse. "Alright."

Lucius didn't let the House-elf lead the way; he took him upstairs himself.

The stair railing was made of Ebony, inlaid with silver thread, and each step was carpeted, making no sound when stepped on.

On the second floor, there is a long corridor with several landscape oil paintings hanging on the walls. The paintings are framed in gold and depict the Malfoy Manor in different eras, with the four seasons changing in turn.

When Regulus returned last time, he only stayed in the downstairs hall and Banquet Hall, and didn't come upstairs.

Looking around, the guest room doors are double doors with snake patterns carved on the doorknobs. The window at the end of the Corridor faces the back garden, where you can see a row of neatly trimmed yew hedges.

Lucius pushed open the door; the room was excessively spacious.

A Four-poster bed was worth half the size of Grimmauld Place, and his bedroom had dark green Velvet curtains with peacock patterns that stretched from the bedposts to the ceiling.

The furniture was brand new, its lacquer so shiny it seemed to reflect light. The floor-to-ceiling windows faced the garden, and the midday sun streamed through the glass, illuminating half the room. Regulus entered and looked around.

The rooms in Grimmauld Place are heavy, with old Ebony furniture and Portrait of ancestors from who-knows-when hanging on the walls; they'll stare at you if you open your eyes in the middle of the night.

He was used to living there and didn't think much of it. The grandeur of the house was something that was kept inside—rules, traditions, hundreds of years of family history—it was imposing and intimidating. The Black family just liked that kind of thing.

But compared to this, that place looks like Library, and this place looks like an exhibition hall.

It is indeed bright, but it doesn't feel like a place where people live; it's more like a display piece for people to see.

Lucius stood at the doorway, not going in. "Tell the House-elf what you need."

"Lucius," Regulus turned around, without mincing words, "Bring some Dragon Meat, raw."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, not asking what it was for; it couldn't be that Regulus wanted to eat it raw himself.

The Malfoy family don't raise dragons, but they all have a strong preference for them. Their storerooms are always stocked with top-quality Dragon Meat from all over the world, fresh and neatly arranged by origin and cut of meat.

If you like it, then eat it, but eat it with style.

A few pieces of raw Dragon Meat are nothing to the Malfoy family.

He asked, "How many pieces?"

"Bring a few more," Regulus said, reaching into the inner pocket of his robe. "Let it choose."

Baruk crawled out of the inner bag, his eight legs bracing against Regulus's wrists, his dark red bristles gleaming in the afternoon sun. His eight eyes darted around, first surveying the entire room: the ceiling, the Four-poster bed, the French windows, the carpet.

Then it stayed obediently on Regulus's wrist, neither jumping off nor crawling around.

This place is not Regulus's territory; it recognized it and knew it couldn't wander around.

But its eyes weren't idle; its chelicerae opened and closed slightly, making a clicking sound, probably pondering when it could make a nest here. Lucius's gaze fell on the spider, and his eyebrows rose again.

Keeping a spider as a pet is rare even among Pureblood Wizards, let alone Regulus, who would never casually keep an ordinary one.

He had seen quite a few Magical Creatures, and quickly sifted through several types in his mind.

It has eight eyes, bristles of this color, but its body is only the size of a palm.

Acromantula can grow as big as houses, but wait, the proportions of their fangs don't match those of wolf spiders, and the dark red color doesn't match the silver-gray of moon spiders. None of them fit, so he simply gave up guessing.

Lucius was a respectable man; he wouldn't even flinch at something so unusual in front of a guest. He simply said, "A rare find." Regulus glanced at him and nodded.

You've learned something new, haven't you? It will change in the future, and you won't recognize it then either.

Lucius raised his hand, and the tip of his Snake-headed Staff staff tapped lightly on the doorframe. A House-elf immediately appeared with a snap, bowing respectfully. He whispered a few instructions, and the House-elf disappeared, returning shortly with a tray.

A full plate, with seven or eight dishes neatly arranged.

The tenderloin of the Norwegian Ridgeback is deep red in color and has coarse fibers; the leg meat of the Hebridean Black Dragon is dark purple to black, with blood streaks seeping through the texture; the neck meat of the Swedish Short-Snout has a dark brown cut with fine fat lines; and the ribs of the Welsh Green are pinkish in color.

The breast meat of the Chinese Fireball is the lightest in color, almost white.

There were a few more pieces, Regulus couldn't name at the moment, and each one was darker than the last.

Baruk had already climbed onto Regulus's shoulder, making two clattering sounds, and Regulus nodded at it.

It darted from the shoulder to the edge of the tray, its eight legs busily working.

I tore off a piece, took a bite, and spat it out in disgust. I chewed another piece a couple of times and then sniffed the next one.

At home, they eat whatever they're given; apparently, they have no choice.

Now a plate was laid out, and it was clear that it was all prepared for it. Let it choose whatever it wanted, and it picked with great enthusiasm.

The tenderloin of the Norwegian Ridgeback was too tough, the leg meat of the Hebridean Black Dragon was too gamey, and the ribs of the Welsh Green were barely acceptable but not tender enough. In the end, it stopped on the neck meat of the Swedish Short-Snout, its chelicerae gripping it tightly and not moving.

Regulus watched it being picky and choosy, and a twitch appeared on his lips.

Lucius waited until Baruk had made his choice before glancing at the House-elf.

The House-elf immediately stepped forward to take away the tray, then disappeared for a while. When he returned, he was holding a soft leather bag the size of a palm, his head bowed, his hands raised high, and presented it to Lucius.

Lucius took them, placed them on the table, and pushed them toward Regulus: "If it likes them, take them."

Regulus didn't stand on ceremony and picked up the bag, weighing it in his hand.

It's lightweight and easy to grasp; you can feel its features with just a touch of your fingertips.

The Untraceable Extension Charm contained approximately two hundred pieces of Dragon Meat, along with a low-temperature preservation spell.

This bag, let alone an ordinary wizard, would be considered a decent Magic artifact even by some Pure-bloods families with little wealth. But for Malfoy, it was nothing more than a sack for holding spider food.

Regulus had seen plenty of these kinds of things, and he'd given them away himself, so it wasn't surprising. But the Malfoy family were truly wealthy.

The House-elf set out lunch.

Golden-roasted pigeon, cream-baked seasonal vegetables, a small bowl of thick oxtail soup, and several delicate desserts.

Regulus didn't have much of an appetite, so he picked at the food and ate a little bit to tide him over.

The smell was gone now, everything Scouring Charm and everything was settled, but the stench of the Werewolf still lingered in his memory, making him nauseous just thinking about it. Lucius chatted for a bit, but there were still a few things at the dinner that he needed to arrange himself. As he stood up, he said, "Narcissa is with her mother right now. See you tonight."

After saying that, he went out the door.

Once the door closed, the room fell silent.