Unrelated to Regulus

Orion signed the remaining documents and was about to pack up and leave when a pale purple paper airplane squeezed in through the crack in the door, circled in the air, flapped its wings twice, and landed steadily on the corner of the table, unfolding itself.

The Ministry of Magic originally used owls for internal communication, but the problem of owls defecating everywhere was never solved.

A few years ago, a director's wig was hit squarely by a pile of owl droppings, and after that incident, the ministry finally decided to replace it.

Now they all use paper airplanes—clean, quiet, cheap, and they don't poop.

Orion felt this was one of the few tangible achievements the Ministry of Magic had made in recent years.

Chapter.?

Interdepartmental memorandum, from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Sebastian Cuthbert.

The message was brief. "Orion, are you free this afternoon? I have a pot of good tea."

After reading it, Orion raised an eyebrow. Sebastian wouldn't invite him for tea for no reason.

The two families weren't particularly close before. They both belonged to the Sacred Twenty-Eight and were of similar status. It was common for them to meet at various gatherings, but that was about it.

However, since Regulus started school, especially after Christmas, the two children's interactions have led to more contact between the two Patriarch than before.

In the afternoon, in the office of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

It's a bit larger than Orion's office, with a more spacious layout, and the windows also have a spatial refraction effect, but the color scheme is warmer.

A light brown bookshelf covered one wall, and a brass table lamp shone softly from the corner of the table.

On the table was a Magic photograph of a family of three. Little Avery, about seven or eight years old, was grinning and making faces at the camera, his expression already quite irritating, exuding a confidence that hadn't yet been honed by Regulus. Sebastian, standing next to him, reached out to press down on his head, which bounced back up, and then bounced back up again, in a continuous cycle.

The tea is ready, in a delicate porcelain cup, Darjeeling.

Sebastian sat behind the table, wearing the uniform of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, with the insignia of the deputy director on his epaulets.

Orion sat down opposite him, and Sebastian pushed the tea towards him.

The two of them started by talking about the child.

Sebastian sounded pleased, "Avery has improved in Charms Class and Defense Against the Dark Arts this semester. He keeps writing back about Regulus, saying he's been practicing a lot more with him. I've never seen him work this hard at home before."

Orion nodded; with Regulus leading the training, his progress was obvious.

His tone softened. "Regulus always mentions Avery; he's been a great help. He's quick-witted and has a sharp mind. With the kids all together, looking out for each other, I feel at ease."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Avery has always been quick-witted and a master at arguing; I admire him for that. However, he's a bit lacking when it comes to thinking; he needs someone to guide him."

"Last time I went home," he added, his tone softening, "He told me that what Regulus taught him was more useful than what he learned in class."

Orion's lips curled slightly. He knew this all too well. Regulus could even teach him; teaching Avery would be about as easy as teaching a toddler how to wave a wand.

Sebastian smiled as well.

Avery's stance on following Regulus was very clear.

He wouldn't utter the word "follow," as the two families were of equal status and he couldn't afford to lose face, but he had already accepted it in his heart.

After finishing his second cup of tea, he became slightly more formal. "Avery wrote back the day before yesterday, mentioning something: someone at school has been inquiring about Regulus lately."

Orion's gaze shifted from the rim of the glass to Sebastian's face.

"It's not just about finding out whereabouts," Sebastian said. "Whereabouts are easy to find. If someone takes leave and goes out, Slughorn has records of it; it's not a secret."

They were asking which professor the student was close to, what areas of Magic they were interested in, whether they had developed any new spells, whether they had joined any student organizations, and what they did in their spare time.

He paused, then added, "Some people even specifically inquired about the relationship between Regulus and Dumbledore."

Orion's eyes narrowed slightly.

"After Avery realized this," Sebastian continued, "He wanted to contact you directly, but he couldn't write down the address of Grimmauld Place, so he put the message in a letter home and asked me to pass it on."

"That child is thoughtful," Orion nodded, his tone becoming more earnest. "Thank him for me."

Sebastian waved his hand.

He didn't need Orion to explain what this meant; he could figure it out himself.

It's normal to inquire about someone's whereabouts, but to inquire about their behavior, Magic inclinations, spell development, or which professor they are close to goes too far; that's a purposeful investigation.

Moreover, it was someone from within Slytherin who was inquiring; their background was self-evident. The message had been delivered, and the rest was no longer his concern.

Orion got up to say goodbye, and Sebastian saw him to the door, where they shook hands.

Orion left the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and walked down the Corridor toward the elevator.

Entry and exit records check where a person is, while inquiries about behavior and interpersonal relationships at school check what a person is doing.

Taken separately, each interpretation has its own meaning, but taken together, they all point to the same thing: someone is systematically investigating Regulus's current situation.

The elevator arrived, the iron gate opened, he stepped inside, the gate closed, and the elevator went up.

12 Grimmauld Place, evening.

The rain stopped, but the sky didn't clear up. A hazy light shone through the gaps in the curtains, casting a long shadow on the Entrance Hall floor.

A green flame burned in the fireplace, and Portrait of ancestors on the wall hung with their eyes closed; several others seemed to be dozing off, their breathing heavy.

When Orion arrived home, Kreacher took the robe, bowed, and stepped back.

Several letters lay on the desk in the Study, Kreacher had already sorted. On the left were routine reports on the family business, and on the right were personal letters.

The stack of routine reports contained quarterly accounts for the shops in Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley, as well as the progress of spring maintenance at the Germany mines. Among the private letters, there was one that was particularly meticulously prepared.

The envelope was made of thick ivory parchment with gold foil stamping on the edges. A small crucible emblem was embedded in the wax seal, and it felt slightly heavy in the hand.

You don't even need to open it to know who it is. In the entire UK Wizarding World, there's only one person who would make an envelope this fancy.

Horace Slughorn.

But it needs to be dismantled.

The letter was written with great enthusiasm, filling three full parchments, just like Slughorn himself—warm, thoughtful, and airtight.

It started with a long greeting: Spring is here, I hope Orion is doing well, and I wonder if the fireplace in Grimmauld Place is still burning brightly.

Then, the focus shifted to wine.

"Speaking of which, I suddenly remembered the 1908 Burgundy red wine I drank at the Nott family's party last autumn, and I'm still savoring it."

Old Nott said he still had a few bottles in his cellar. I asked him if he could part with them, and he said he couldn't bear to part with even one. Well, no wonder, that vintage was so rare.

"You own a winery in France. If you happen to come across a bottle of the same vintage, please save one for me. I'll consider it a favor I owe you."

The next part was a casual conversation about Potions Class, mentioning a few students in a lighthearted tone, before finally getting to Regulus.

"Speaking of Regulus, an old acquaintance asked about his recent situation the other day, and I told him the truth: the young man went to France to relax, and the family business also needs someone to take care of it. It's a rare opportunity to go out and travel, which is very beneficial for broadening his horizons."

His Potions talent is truly rare. Although he missed some classes this semester, I'm not worried at all. Frankly, his current level is already beyond that of a fifth grader."

Who asked? No one said. What tone they used? No one said. When they asked? No one said. Just that one sentence, sandwiched between a long string of Candied Pineapple- like chatter.

And now, to conclude, greetings to Walburga, wishing her a peaceful spring, and looking forward to meeting her at some gathering someday.

He mentioned the bottle of Burgundy again, saying that if Orion could really get his hands on it, he would definitely bring a bottle of his treasured Mead in exchange, and the two of them could have a good drink together.

The last line is Horace Slughorn's signature, rounded and smooth, ending with a small hook.

Orion read the letter twice.

After reading it the first time, I confirmed the core information. The second time, I read the parts that weren't written down. Slughorn wouldn't just write to parents to report that someone was inquiring about their son.

He wouldn't bring it up if a parent casually asked at a banquet, and he certainly wouldn't write a letter during casual conversations among professors.

The fact that he wrote it down means the person asking wasn't just any parent; the fact that he didn't say who it was means that revealing that name would cause trouble.

There are very few people in the entire UK Wizarding World who would make Slughorn feel that mentioning their names would cause trouble.

The letter replied that he had gone to France; this was the pre-arranged line, and Slughorn simply repeated it without adding a single word.

After you've finished speaking, let me know and send the message along with a long string of lively chatter.

The whole process went as expected. Slughorn didn't betray anyone; he simply took care of the few people he needed to take care of and relayed the message to the right people. He didn't take any risks whatsoever.

Orion folded the letter, put it back in the envelope, and placed it in the drawer on the left side of his desk.

The three lines converged on the same day, all heading in the same direction but using different methods.

A green flame burned in the fireplace in the Study, casting a dim light on the entire wall of bookshelves.

Track their whereabouts to confirm their physical location, check their behavior and interests to confirm their values and direction, and question Slughorn to confirm their public statements.

Voldemort.

The purpose was clear: the Dark Enlightenment had been sent out for over a year, and Regulus had demonstrated those powers to them at the Christmas Banquet.

The gray, emanating Magic Power created an oppressive aura, causing Bellatrix to kneel and wail under its power.

He couldn't recall the specific names of those things; Dark Enlightenment was Voldemort's unique technique, not found in any publicly known system of Dark Arts.

But he was the head of the Black family, with profound knowledge of Dark Arts, and he could deduce from Regulus's actions that night what he had shown.

A kind of oppression that acts on the Mental Layer, and a kind of burning that acts on the soul level.

Voldemort saw those things, but he only saw the surface.

Regulus said that everything that night was a performance, that the influence of the Dark Enlightenment was sealed off by him in the Containment Chamber, and that the techniques he displayed were directed from the Containment Chamber.

He portrayed a character who was partially corrupted by the Dark Enlightenment but still under control in front of Voldemort, and he did a very good job.

Voldemort used Legilimency on him, but Regulus survived.

You've passed the level, that's it, but the Dark Enlightenment is something that continues.

Voldemort might want to see if Regulus was working as expected, who he was close to at school, his attitude towards Dumbledore, what kind of Magic he was practicing, and whether there were any signs of darkness corrupting his daily behavior.

Now is the time for further observation, a phase in the process.

But Orion felt that the trigger for this round of investigations might not be just a routine check on Dark Enlightenment.

He thought of something else.

Recently, news has been circulating in the Death Eaters community that Dolohov's Castle stronghold north of Skipton was attacked and he was seriously injured.

The one who made the move was a white-haired wizard of unknown origin, young, in his early twenties, extremely powerful, with a fierce fighting style and vicious methods, using an explosive Magic that he couldn't name.

A powerful young wizard suddenly appeared in the enemy camp. No one knew who he was or where he came from. He did his job and left immediately. Even Dolohov didn't know who the other side was.

What would Voldemort think after receiving this news?

Dumbledore was recruiting young people, and such a powerful young wizard chose to stand on Dumbledore's side, easily defeating the core fighting force of the veteran Death Eaters.

Voldemort wouldn't bother with this, but he might glance in his direction.

Dumbledore already has one; is mine still there?

Age, talent, and potential are all top-notch; the Heir of the Black family, a person Dark Enlightenment, and a person who stands on his side.

So he sent people to investigate.

This logic makes sense.

Voldemort's investigation was likely triggered; the corruption of Dark Enlightenment was a method he was confident in, and the phased observation was itself part of the plan.

As for who the white-haired wizard was, Orion had not yet determined.

The descriptions sent back by the Death Eaters were very detailed: white hair, amber vertical pupils, over 180 centimeters tall, with scorching Magic Power energy emanating from him, and a violent and direct fighting style.

He has nothing to do with Regulus.

Of course, if you have to guess, it's not entirely impossible.

Regulus and Dumbledore were together when a strange young wizard appeared near Dumbledore. The timing of his appearance coincided with Regulus's trip to France.

Orion shook his head, dismissing the thought.

To link him to Regulus now is more conjecture than reasoning, and he doesn't conjecture.

He pulled a parchment from his desk, spread it out, and dipped it in ink.

The letter was short.

"Your entry and exit records have been checked, people at school are inquiring about your performance and relationships, and you've also been questioned by Slughorn. It's a systematic investigation, and the judgment comes from the highest levels of the Death Eaters."

This may be related to the recent activities of Dumbledore's faction; keep an eye on it yourself.

Everything at home is as usual.

After writing and folding it, he took out a copper stamp from the drawer, stamped it on the wax seal, and recited a very short incantation at the same time.

The wax seal bore the coat of arms of the Black family. The coat of arms flashed, and the entire envelope trembled slightly before folding itself on the table.

Fold it in half, then fold it in half again, getting smaller and smaller until it shrank to the Light Point of a thumb, hovering half an inch above the table. It slowly rotated twice and then disappeared with a snap.

The Bloodline Tracking Beacon, one of the Black family's accumulated assets over centuries.

The principle is not complicated. Using the Magic Power mark of direct bloodline as the anchor point, the beacon can penetrate most spatial barriers and appear directly in the recipient's hand. It is useless if it is intercepted in the middle, as others cannot open it.

After the beacon disappeared, the Study was quiet for a while. Orion stood up, turned off the light, and went downstairs.

It's time for dinner.

(And there's more!)