Loyal Hogwarts

Regulus got up early today, knowing it was time to go back to Hogwarts.

At breakfast time, the restaurants in Grimmauld Place were the same as always.

Green flames burned in the fireplace, a dark green tablecloth covered the long table, and candles were neatly lit on the silver candlesticks.

Smoked salmon, thinly sliced, is arranged on Porcelain Plates. Scrambled eggs are steaming hot, fried eggs are runny, and croissants are baked to a crisp. A dish of Butter and a small jar of orange marmalade are placed on the side.

There was also a pot of Darjeeling tea, its aroma wafting from the spout.

Walburga spoke a few more words than usual.

She placed a small, soft leather pouch beside Regulus; inside were several new robes.

New spring style, crafted by Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions from Diagon Alley. Made of Italy blended wool, it's lighter than winter robes, breathable, and won't make you sweaty—perfect for spring.

The subtle silver thread pattern on the neckline has been redesigned and is more streamlined than before. The cuffs are neatly gathered so they won't slip down when you raise your arms.

There are also two new pairs of leather shoes, made from the back leather of Welsh Green, which is softer than Hungarian Horntail leather, but just as durable.

The shoes are lined with cashmere, so they won't rub your feet when you walk in them barefoot. The soles have Waterproof and Damp-proof Charm, so they won't slip on the spring rains of the Scottish Highlands. The underwear is also new, made of linen and cotton blend, so it won't irritate your skin when you wear it next to your skin.

These things were just routine seasonal purchases for the Black family, and they weren't even recorded in the accounts.

"Spring is here, time to get new robes," Walburga said casually, picking up her teacup. "The underwear is in there too, throw the old ones away." "Thank you, Mother," Regulus said, lifting the bag to his feet and smiling. "Perfect."

Walburga smiled gently, his lips curving upwards and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes narrowing slightly. He then put down his cup and lowered his head to continue cutting the fried eggs on his plate.

She's trying to be a normal mother; she's still learning, but she's much more natural than before the funeral.

Orion paused in flipping through the newspaper, then glanced up at her.

He probably had never seen Walburga like this before. Gone was his usual boasting, and he no longer emphasized propriety. He simply handed over the food, said a few words, and then continued eating.

His eyes showed a hint of satisfaction, perhaps with a touch of unsettling surprise, before he turned his gaze back to the newspaper without saying a word.

Regulus stuffed the last piece of bread into his mouth, chewing as his thoughts drifted back to the Study from the previous night.

I got home quite late yesterday, but Orion was still waiting for me in the Study.

As soon as he entered, Kreacher greeted him, saying that the Master was in the Study. Regulus went straight there and recounted the day's events. As for the Werewolf, there was nothing much to say about the tasks assigned to Greyback, Hufflepuff, Lucius.

The main focus is on the intelligence Lucius handed over at the dinner party, as well as his own plans.

Voldemort's advance is accelerating, and war is drawing ever closer— Orion already knew this.

The Black family has been deeply rooted in the UK Wizarding World for centuries, and they have people passing on information about every little thing that happens.

Owls come and go from the apothecary in Diagon Alley every day, and the shops in Knockturn Alley deal with Dark Wizard so much that someone always lets slip some gossip. Cornwall Plantation are right next to the coastline, it would be a shame not to do smuggling, and a lot of Knockturn Alley's goods come ashore from there. With so many people coming and going, the gossip gets mixed up, and people always like to chat idly when they stop to rest.

Not to mention the deeply entrenched family ties, vested interests, and political connections.

Who needs Black's vote in Wizengamot? Who needs Black to turn a blind eye to their business in Knockturn Alley? Who needs Orion to pass on a word if their son wants a job at the Ministry of Magic?

These are all about personal relationships; personal relationships are information; and information is politics.

The Pureblood families are a unified whole, and information flows among these surnames much faster than owls and the Daily Prophet. Some have gone deep into Voldemort's side, such as Malfoy and Nott; some, like Black, have openly sided with him but secretly remain independent; and still others, like Selwyn, have not chosen a side and are observing.

Ultimately, tipping off others is an old practice, and apart from a few clueless individuals, no one would bet their entire fortune on one direction.

So Lucius thought he was sharing exclusive good news, Orion probably knew it even earlier than Lucius.

Regulus also mentioned his intention to meet Dumbledore, with a ready-made pretext: to deliver information about the Werewolf and to cultivate the connection with Dumbledore. Contacting Dumbledore was also part of the family strategy.

The Black family outwardly side with Voldemort, but secretly they need to leave a way out; someone has to go through Dumbledore's side.

Orion isn't a good fit, Sirius is more suited to that role, but he's not the right person for the job right now.

After careful consideration, no one is more suitable Regulus.

Moreover, Dumbledore than just a day or two, offering guidance, instruction, and even shaping him.

Fawkes's tail feathers and Nicolas Flamel's door were both threads that had been handed over long ago; there was an unspoken understanding between them.

Moreover, he has Patronus, and his heart is pure; to Dumbledore, that is his passport.

Orion had long understood that maintaining the balance between Voldemort and Dumbledore relied on having people on both sides; sticking to only one side would inevitably lead to an upheaval. But the real purpose wasn't politics.

Regulus said he wanted to discuss his newly devised ideas with Dumbledore —things about the soul, the will, light and darkness. Orion understood these ideas, but he couldn't grasp their meaning.

In the past, Regulus used the Disintegration Severing Charm and the Disintegration Charm, he could still taste the saltiness of food in his Study.

He can't get involved in any of this now; he can't help even if he wanted to, and he can't even provide resources.

Dumbledore is a resource, Voldemort is a resource, and he can't handle either of them.

So when Regulus suggested going to talk to Dumbledore, Orion simply told him to do whatever he wanted, and he would support him. Last night in the Study, Orion recalled what Regulus had said before going to the Werewolf camp—that he was only interested in Werewolf and wanted to see them. And now, just one day later, he came back saying he had a new idea, about souls, but it wasn't fully formed yet, and he wanted to discuss it with Dumbledore. Orion was silent for a moment upon hearing this, then nodded.

The emotion was there and the joy was real. The son took another step forward, but this time, he could no longer even see the road clearly.

I can't be of much help, but at least I can't hold you back.

Factions and Pure-bloods glory are all meaningless in the end. Strength and talent are real. Take one step forward and you'll move further away from all that nonsense.

The Black family has only produced one person like him in hundreds of years. He's his son, his own flesh and blood, so what more can be said? Just give him your full support. As for Magic matters, Regulus can handle them himself; he can't interfere.

But in other respects, he wasn't old yet, the Black family hadn't fallen, the sky wasn't going to fall, and even if it did, he could hold it up for his son. He firmly believed that as long as Regulus was given enough time to grow up, the Black family would eventually reach a position no one could imagine. After finishing his meal, Regulus picked up his small bag and said goodbye to his parents.

Walburga simply told him to eat well, his tone normal, without adding any further explanation about Pure-bloods honor or the Black family's dignity. Orion didn't say anything; he had already explained everything that needed to be said in the Study last night, and the rest was up to Regulus to handle.

Stepping outside, the morning air in mid-February was still cool, but the wind was no longer biting.

The frost on the lawn was melting, and the air smelled of coal smoke and haze.

The sky was a grayish-blue, with a thin layer of clouds covering it, and the sun had not yet fully risen from the east.

The Muggle streetlights in Grimmauld Place had just gone out, and the curtains on the houses across the street were still drawn. A Ford sedan turned the corner, its engine humming in the empty street.

Regulus took one last look, then, Apparition and vanished.

Landing, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hogsmeade is too far; it takes a small hill to walk from the village entrance to the Castle. The Forbidden Forest is much closer to the Castle; it only takes a few minutes to fly there. The morning light slanted through the tree canopy from the east, casting long shadows on the withered grass.

The air was much cleaner London, carrying the scent of pine needles and damp earth. The wind blew from the direction of the Black Lake; it was cold, but not harsh.

Baruk poked his head out of the inner bag, his eight amber eyes scanning the surrounding tree canopy, withered grass, and the distant Castle. His dark red bristles gleamed slightly in the morning light, and he made two soft, clattering sounds, which were clearer in the new environment.

It had been stuck in the inner pocket the whole way, and now it crawled out, hooked onto the fabric, and slid up to its shoulder.

From Grimmauld Place to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the squeezing sensation of Apparition was nothing to it anymore, but it still didn't quite like the process. Baruk waved its chelicerae. "Territory."

Regulus's lips curled into a slight smile, "Hmm, territory."

Baruk wrapped his claws around the back of his neck to the other shoulder, bracing himself on his two front legs and spreading them forward.

The morning light shone from behind it, giving its dark red bristles a golden edge.

It made another series of loud clattering sounds, even louder than before, and then uttered a longer sentence, with syllables popping out one after another.

"... Regulus... leader... of his people."

No sooner had the words left its mouth than it leaped onto Regulus's head, its chelicerae spread even wider. "... Baruk... the giant spider!" Regulus reached out and scooped it up, placing it back on his shoulder and gently patting its carapace.

This spider probably felt that this entire area—the Forbidden Forest, the Black Lake, the Castle, the lawn, and even the wizards within—belonged to it.

He has big ambitions, but his judgment is indeed excellent.

Not yet, we'll see later. When that day comes, we'll give it a dean's office.

Hogwarts Castle stood in the distance, its towers' spires jutting out from above the treetops.

He reached out and gently waved his hand in front of him, unleashing Improved Disillusionment Charm.

A cool, watery sensation descended from above, spreading layer by layer over my shoulders and arms, completely erasing my form in the morning light, even swallowing up the disturbances in the airflow caused by my breathing.

Then, Levitation Charm supported his body, and he flew close to the ground towards the Castle.

The morning breeze brushed past my ears, the withered grass and bushes beneath my feet rushed past, and the silhouette of the Castle in the distance grew larger and larger in the morning light.

It only took a few minutes.

Regulus went back to his Dormitory first. The fire in the fireplace was almost out, with only a few green embers flickering on the edges of the embers. The room was dimly lit, and the shimmering light of the Black Lake outside the window moved slowly across the ceiling. The shadow of Giant Squid slid past the glass. He placed the small bag of clothes at the foot of the bed, put the small bag of Dragon Meat in the drawer, and then, facing the fireplace, he gently touched it. The flames suddenly leaped up from between the embers, and the Dormitory was bright again.

Baruk sprang from his shoulder and darted into the fireplace.

It rolled over in the middle of the flames, kicked its eight legs in the air twice, then flipped back over, flicked its pincers, whipped up a small ball of flame, and waved it above its head, as if waving goodbye.

Regulus turned and left the Dormitory.