It's Time to See Dumbledore

The House-elf removed the hot dishes and replaced them with dessert and after-dinner drinks.

Narcissa poured herself and Lucius a glass each, and Regulus's sparkling water was also refilled.

Lucius took a sip of his drink and naturally changed the subject to what was happening outside.

"I've been busy lately," he said, swirling his wine glass with barely suppressed excitement. "That Dark Lord rarely shows his face; he mostly delegates tasks to his subordinates while he's busy with his own affairs outside."

"Where they go, what they do, they don't tell us. Even I don't know where they are. Sometimes when we get a message, it has to go through two or three intermediaries." Regulus listened, holding his sparkling water, his face expressionless.

Voldemort distanced himself from the outside world, leaving the recruitment of soldiers to Lucius and his men, and personally handled the matter. This was something that no one else could do, nor could anyone else be allowed to know about it.

All that expansion and recruitment was just setting the stage for Voldemort; it wasn't what he truly cared about.

What he truly cared about was living longer than everyone else, being immortal, and transcending.

The path to immortality requires him to walk every step personally; the creation, storage, and protection of the Horcruxes —no one else is allowed to touch any of them. Regulus replied casually, "For that Dark Lord to handle it personally, it must be something important."

Lucius nodded, probably taking this as agreement, Regulus also felt that the Dark Lord was planning something big.

This is exactly what Lucius wants to hear, and it's the message he wants to convey tonight.

He was close to that Dark Lord, well-informed, and by standing with him, he wouldn't miss any developments.

But Regulus read another layer: Voldemort didn't truly trust the Malfoy family, Lucius, or Abraxas. He was handling the core matters alone.

Lucius thought he was in the know, but he hadn't even touched the edge of the circle.

"Last month, a Muggle village in the Little Hangleton was wiped out overnight, completely clean, leaving behind a batch of Inferi." In Lucius's view, this was fantastic news.

Slaughtering an entire village of Muggle and creating a batch of Inferi was a prelude to accumulating power and getting serious. He had waited a long time for this day. He put down his glass, his eyes shining, his words filled with satisfaction. "So many years of forbearance, so many years of betting, this is what I've been waiting for. The good days for Pure-bloods are yet to come."

Regulus nodded along with him outwardly, but his thoughts were quite different.

It's true that Voldemort wanted to accumulate power, but it wasn't worth it for him to slaughter an entire village to do so.

Killing an entire village of Muggle and creating a batch of Inferi is nothing to him.

Inferi are afraid of fire; what respectable wizard wouldn't know how to set fire to something?

Aside from scaring Muggle and creating some panic, it's not very useful on the front lines.

However, it's suitable for using terrain-restricted terrain to defend things.

Regulus took a sip of the water, and a pale blue Light Point exploded in his mouth, sliding down his throat.

Little Hangleton, the Riddle House is in that area, and the Gaunt family's ancestral home is nearby.

The image flashed through his mind: a cave by the sea, Inferi in the water.

Judging by the timing, perhaps this batch of Inferi was prepared for that cave.

Ironically, he always felt a connection to that place.

That's his destined place, the place he was promised to be; I'd really like to go and see it.

Let's wake up those Inferi and see if we can pull him down.

Or take it a step further and let House-elf go in and out of that cave, but of course, not your own.

He glanced at Lucius, an interesting thought popping into his head.

Your House-elf is quite good; it's well-trained and obedient. One day, find a pretext to put one in there, and then let you know what's in there. Then let's see if you, this respectable person, will pretend you don't know, or go down with it.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts; these were just thoughts, at least for now.

"Leave the Werewolf mess to me," Lucius continued. "You saw it today; it's nothing serious."

He curled his lip slightly, revealing undisguised disgust. "Just passing on a message. You can't reason with beasts. It's pointless, a waste of patience." He took a sip of his drink. "The Giant are far away and things are complicated; they sent old Avery."

Regulus listened quietly.

Werewolf, Giant, and others— Voldemort is assembling an inhuman army.

Let Lucius manage the Werewolf, let Avery manage the Giant, and assign different non-human species to different levels of Death Eaters for management.

When the day comes that all pretense of civility breaks down, these people will be the first to be killed.

Werewolf are fierce, and Giant are strong, but neither is very durable. However, they are useful for wearing down the Auror ' firepower and creating chaos.

Use them to charge, to fill, to shield legitimate Death Eaters from the first wave; we won't care how many die.

It seems Voldemort's pace has quickened; the smell of war is growing ever closer.

"The Ministry of Magic has also loosened its grip," Lucius said, setting down his glass, his tone increasingly casual. "Now, several people in various positions are already on our side. There are even messages from within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; some cases are being reported and then shelved, with no follow-up."

He smiled. "Even the Dementor in Azkaban have relented. They'll respond when that Dark Lord needs them." Regulus, holding his cup, remained silent.

The Ministry of Magic was infiltrated much earlier than it appeared; it was destined to happen from the day Minchum took office. A minister who constantly talks about neutrality will never see what his subordinates are actually doing.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is the core of law enforcement, and the Auror Office is located under this department.

The fact that people have entered this place means that the Auror ' movements can be leaked in advance, and important cases can be suppressed.

The most important thing is the Dementor; compared to Werewolf Giant, these are the real trouble.

Even if Werewolf Giant is ferocious, a proper wizard, even if unable to defeat it, can always escape using Apparition, Portkey, or other means.

But Dementor are different. They are immune to spells and physical attacks, and they can fly, making them difficult to escape and even harder to defend against.

If you really want to fight against it, you can only have Patronus, and there are very few wizards in all of UK who can release Patronus in its physical form.

Fiendfyre should have been able to burn it, but Regulus couldn't recall anyone having used Fiendfire to Fiendfyre Dementor.

His thoughts drifted for a moment: what's left after a Dementor is burned?

Did the tattered clothes and everything underneath turn to ash, or did they vanish into thin air without even leaving ash?

It had no physical form to begin with, and perhaps no one knows what was wrapped under that tattered robe.

Dementor live by feeding on people's happiness, stripping away the warmest feelings in people's hearts, leaving only an empty shell.

It can also devour souls, extracting a person's soul entirely from their body.

The action itself is interesting; how is the soul being pulled out of the skin?

What happened to the thing that was pulled out and went inside its body?

Dementor have brains, but they're not very good at using them.

If a person were to transform into an animal, it would become blind, recognizing only humans and not animals.

Regulus continued his thought process.

Does it only suck up human blood, or does it suck up any living thing with a soul and the capacity for joy?

What if we let a goblin into its enclosure? Centaur?

He even thought of Aragog —did that guy enjoy mating? Could he suck the cum?

Or, to think of it the other way around, Hermes doesn't seem to experience happiness, so could we let the Dementor absorb some of it?

He could always extract something; perhaps after extracting it, Hermes would know whether he was truly happy or not.

He suppressed the thought; now was not the time to study Dementor, because they were unavailable—it seemed there weren't any wild ones. Lucius glanced at Narcissa before continuing, "I saw Bellatrix a while ago."

He brought this up intentionally. There's no need to elaborate on what happened between Regulus and Bellatrix. By proactively sharing Bellatrix's recent situation, he was both showing goodwill and keeping everyone informed.

"He's different from before; he talks less, and he's very quiet."

Narcissa paused, her hand holding the dessert fork still, and glanced up at Lucius.

Lucius protected her, and usually kept these matters from her. He hadn't mentioned Bellatrix's recent situation to her.

This was the first time Narcissa had heard it said in front of Regulus.

A flicker of worry crossed her eyes, but after glancing at Regulus, the worry vanished.

She lowered her eyes, stirred the dessert on her plate, her fingers tightening and loosening on the fork handle, without saying a word.

Lucius took her hand. Narcissa looked over, Lucius nodded slightly. Narcissa pursed her lips, everything understood without a word. Regulus saw all this but said nothing.

Bellatrix's quietness is a good thing.

She hated him, that's for sure, but even the fierce Bellatrix wasn't all that formidable.

He's genuinely fanatical, but not very capable; he fights fiercely, but he's easily defeated.

He never paid any attention to Bellatrix.

But if she calms down, it's a different story.

Just hearing what Lucius said made Bellatrix, who was usually quiet and unassuming, seem even more intriguing than before.

Her fervor has always been her driving force; she pours all her energy outward, and the more fiercely she pours it out, the more it shows that she has nothing else in her heart.

She's stopped splashing now; perhaps something is being taken back inside.

The only person who could calm down someone like Bellatrix was Voldemort. Perhaps through his personal training, her loyalty and faith were effective in Voldemort's eyes.

He was even somewhat looking forward to their next meeting; it might be quite interesting.

"She's always with that Dark Lord," Narcissa suddenly spoke, changing the subject, her voice soft, "She won't lack food or clothing." She gestured to the House-elf, "Bring another sweet dish; this jelly is getting cold."

Lucius smiled in response and said nothing more about Bellatrix.

Narcissa asked Regulus a few more questions about school, including whether he had a girl he was interested in.

Regulus shook his head and glanced at Lucius. Lucius's eyes widened slightly, not understanding why Regulus was looking at him. Narcissa also looked at Lucius, her eyes narrowing slightly.

The meal lasted until late at night.

Regulus rose to take his leave, Lucius saw him to the manor gate. The night wind swept across the lawn, carrying the distinctive bitter scent of the trimmed yew hedges.

"Come again next time." Lucius tapped his Staff at his side, his posture casual.

Regulus nodded, Apparition, and vanished into the night with a snap.

In Grimmauld Place, the lights were off, the curtains were drawn, and only the embers in the fireplace glowed a dark red.

Baruk rolled over on the pillow, belly up, kicked his eight legs in the air twice, then rolled back over, his dark red bristles gleaming faintly in the darkness.

Regulus was also lying in bed.

Lucius thought he was sharing good news.

Voldemort personally handling affairs outside meant he was planning something big: massacring villages and creating Inferi meant he was accumulating power; acquiring Giant, Werewolf, and Dementor meant he was expanding his military.

The Ministry of Magic's infiltration has been going on for a long time; it's no secret. But this time Lucius went into more detail: the Department of Magical Law Enforcement even had people infiltrated the Auror Office.

From marginal, sinecure positions to crucial departments, the Ministry of Magic has been eroded from within.

He used these as bargaining chips, believing he was in the right place and that the Malfoy family had made the right bet, but he didn't even know how far he was from the real core.

War is not far off, in a year, or perhaps less.

Regulus didn't feel pressured; he was simply keeping track of the time.

He recalled the Werewolf in Yorkshire, thirty or forty of them, and still growing, with Greyback as their leader.

The beast didn't even dare to raise its claws in front of him, but if it were a different person, an ordinary wizard, or Muggle village, it would be a completely different story.

Ferocious, bloodthirsty, it bites one and turns into another.

Dumbledore have known that Voldemort had such a force at his disposal.

This message is quite appropriate to send to Dumbledore.

They don't act as heroes or champions, nor do they choose sides between good and evil; in the end, they're just Werewolf.

The Black family outwardly sided with Voldemort, but secretly they always had to leave themselves an escape route.

We need to nurture Dumbledore's storyline, making sure that old man owes him something, we might need it later.

This is what he wants.

Besides, I learned a lot from Greyback today.

That empty house, that silent engulfing, separated two things, yet forced one of them to retreat.

Whether what was planted in Hufflepuff will grow or not remains to be seen, waiting for one full moon after another.

It was Dumbledore's guidance outside the Shrieking Shack that enabled him to awaken his soul.

Today he figured out something new: the matter of light and darkness—the two things might not necessarily be a matter of life and death.

One can rise while the other falls, one can advance while the other retreats. When it reaches its peak, it retreats again, and when it reaches its peak, it rises again. They go around in circles, neither can live without the other, and neither can devour the other.

This idea is still too crude; it needs someone with profound insight to examine it and see if these conclusions hold water.

Dumbledore represents the ultimate, the light.

He actually wanted to talk to Voldemort, to try and get to him from the shadows, but that was clearly not an option now.

In that case, finding an old man will do.

Place your thoughts under the brightest light and see what is real and what is illusory.

He twitched the corner of his mouth slightly.

The pretext is readily available; it's time to go see Dumbledore.

I'm going back to school tomorrow. I took two days off, so it's time to cancel them.

Ultimately, he's still a student.

Baruk rolled over and buried his head in the pillow.

Regulus drew the curtains, a section of the embers in the fireplace collapsed, the dark red light flashed one last time, and then went out.

sleep.