A Conversation with Narcissa

About ten minutes later, Narcissa arrived as well.

She did not sit. Instead, she stood beside the sofa, looking down at Regulus. The Fireplace's light cast a warm glow over her golden hair, but her gaze was very serious.

"You frightened me today," Narcissa said softly.

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"Sorry?" Regulus looked up at her. He knew what Narcissa meant.

Narcissa cared far more about family than Bellatrix did. More than once, she had reminded him that even when showing off his abilities, he needed to know his limits.

Even before he had started school, she had repeatedly shared the experience she had gathered herself. Regulus could feel the concern of a relative, so he had always treated Narcissa with more genuine sincerity.

But Regulus had his own considerations. He was not truly a child.

"It's not a bad thing." Narcissa sat beside him, her movements graceful.

"I just... suddenly realized that you've grown up. Uncle Orion wrote to me and asked me to keep an eye on you at school. Aunt Walburga mentioned it too, but it seems you don't need anyone watching over you."

Regulus said nothing, but his gaze visibly softened.

Narcissa continued, "The way you handled things today was very mature, but it was also dangerous. You put yourself in the open, and more people will be watching you."

"Let them watch." Regulus's tone was firm, though he deliberately put on that display to reassure Narcissa. In truth, he did not care much about such things.

He saw things more clearly in his heart. As a first-year, he did need to act within the Rules, remain mindful of the professors' eyes, and maintain the appearance of an outstanding student.

But fundamentally, he had no need to look up to those upper-year students.

It was not arrogance, but an objective fact. The things in those people's heads—the so-called house politics and Pure-blood connections—were laughably shallow in his eyes.

In another two years, when he reached third year, how precise would his Magic Power control be? How many constellations would Astral Meditation expand to? How much Magic would he master? How strong would his Magic Power become?

By then, the people he needed to measure himself against would no longer be Hogwarts students, but the so-called elite Aurors of the Ministry of Magic, perhaps even certain professors.

After all, Voldemort had been able to create Horcruxes by his fifth year. How was Regulus inferior to him?

His gaze had never lingered on mediocrities.

"Cousin Narcissa." Regulus spoke, his voice lower than before. "You're worried I'll be watched, but from another perspective, letting them see my position clearly may be safer."

Narcissa frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"The Heir of the Black family will have to stand somewhere sooner or later. Rather than let others guess, test, and scheme in secret, it would be better for me to set the tone myself. That's better than hiding everything."

He paused, watching Narcissa's reaction. Only after seeing that she did not object did he continue.

"As for choosing sides... Cousin, let's talk about that." Regulus leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice even further.

"On Bellatrix's side, on Voldemort's side, I know they are recruiting people. I also understand the Black family's stance."

Narcissa did not respond, merely signaling for him to continue with her eyes.

"But I have to ask." Regulus looked directly into her eyes. "Does the Black family—or rather, the Sacred Twenty-Eight—really have only two choices?"

Narcissa's breath caught slightly. Regulus had not said it outright, but she knew the two choices he meant were loyalty to Voldemort or turning to Dumbledore.

"A millennial wizarding family has endured for a thousand years. Was that because it bet on the right side in every political upheaval? Shouldn't it be because, no matter who came to power, the family could remain standing?"

At this point, he silently added in his heart, The Black family in the original story was the counterexample. It blindly bet everything on Voldemort, and nearly the entire family died out, leaving only a few stragglers behind.

But that had been because of Walburga's fanaticism, Sirius's rebellion, and a series of bad decisions piled atop one another.

If he, Regulus, was here, things should not turn out that way.

Narcissa fell silent for a long time. The Fireplace light flickered across her face.

"Regulus," she said just as softly, "you know that Bellatrix is now... deeply trusted by the Dark Lord."

Regulus leaned back against the sofa, his gaze falling on the dancing flames in the Fireplace, his face utterly calm.

A few seconds later, he turned back to look at Narcissa.

"Cousin," Regulus asked, "does the Black family need that trust?"

Narcissa froze. It was a question she had never considered at all.

Did the Black family not need that trust?

That was Voldemort!

But on second thought, just as Regulus had said, did a millennial family have to fall in with one side?

Why, aside from Regulus, were all the Pureblood families discussing which side they should join?

Whose problem was that, exactly?!

Regulus continued, his tone gradually evening out. "Bellatrix is a member of the Black family. The trust she receives is naturally a family resource.

"But how that resource is used, who uses it, and when it is used—there is much to consider."

He looked calmly at Narcissa and saw that she was somewhat stunned. "An investment depends on long-term returns. Betting one's entire fortune on a short-term surge is what gamblers do, not how a wizarding family with Millennial Heritage should act."

Regulus was making an extremely subtle reference to the fact that Voldemort could not last, but he could only say this much. He could not say any more.

Narcissa's pupils contracted slightly. She understood part of it, and she also thought of things she had never noticed before.

Bellatrix had certainly devoted herself wholeheartedly to the Dark Lord's great cause. She herself was all she had, but to the Black family, Bellatrix was only one member of the family.

And Regulus was talking about the long term and inheritance.

"You mean..." Narcissa had no choice but to become cautious as well. "The Black family should not rely on only one line?"

"I mean," Regulus said gently, "if a tree has only one deep root while all its other roots have withered, what will keep it steady when strong winds come?"

He looked at Narcissa. His gray eyes appeared especially deep in the firelight. "Cousin, the Black family is not a sapling that has only just sprouted. We have many roots."

"The Dark Lord needs strength." Regulus returned to the original subject, but from a different angle. "And strength comes in many forms.

"Fanatical loyalty is one kind of strength. A calm mind is another. Warriors who can charge into battle are one kind of strength, while people who can coordinate resources and stabilize the rear are an even rarer kind."

He continued, "Bellatrix has already proven that the Black family can provide the first kind. So what if we can provide the second as well?"

Narcissa took a deep breath. Looking at this cousin who was only eleven years old, she suddenly felt a shudder run through her. It was the shock of realizing that the depth of his thinking far exceeded her expectations.

Not once had he said that they should not be loyal. In fact, he had consistently affirmed the Dark Lord's needs.

But the meaning behind his words was perfectly clear: the Black family was to join as a collaborator, even as a provider of strategic resources, rather than as mere followers.

That was clearly more clever, but also more difficult.

"These words..." Narcissa's voice was somewhat dry. "Have you said them to Uncle Orion?"

Regulus shook his head. "Father will understand."

He thought of the Family Ring Orion had given him, the key to the Library, and his father's reminder to exercise restraint.

Orion Black had never been a fanatical believer. He was a pragmatic helmsman of the family.

Sending his son into Slytherin, tacitly allowing and even supporting Regulus's independence—he had been paving the way for this very goal—

To ensure that when the Black family boarded the coming ship in the approaching storm, they would sit in a cabin with windows rather than be locked in the bottom hold.

Narcissa nodded slowly. She understood. Not only did she understand Regulus's meaning, she also understood why he had acted as he did today. He had been displaying the second kind of strength.

Calmness, restraint, control of the situation, and the ability to weigh gains and losses—this was for all observers to see, including the Dark Lord, who might be watching from afar.

"I understand." Narcissa's tone was grave. "So you need information—information that will allow the family to make the correct judgment."

"Yes." Regulus leaned forward slightly, adopting a more trusting posture.

"Cousin, what we lack most right now is not a stance, but perspective. Knowing only the information that comes from Bellatrix's side is like walking with only one eye open—and that eye is biased."

Narcissa immediately thought of Bellatrix's letters filled with fanatical language, and of her increasingly extreme words and behavior. If the Black family listened only to Bellatrix's voice, that would be terrible.

"I'll keep watch." Narcissa gave him a solemn promise. "Not only the Malfoy family, but also the Lestrange family, the movements of other families, and rumors within the Ministry of Magic.

"As long as it is valuable, I will tell you."

"Through secure means," Regulus added. "Or face-to-face."

He could not risk letting sensitive information fall onto paper. Voldemort's desire for control was extremely strong; who knew what methods he might use to monitor them?

Narcissa nodded. "All right."

With that, the core of the conversation had been made clear. Regulus relaxed, and his tone became more casual. "Cousin, is Mr. Malfoy Sr. in good health?"

He asked it naturally, like a younger relative concerned for an elder.