Regulus: What I Say Goes

Orion frowned slightly, but did not refute, instead looking at Regulus and gesturing for him to continue.

Regulus held up one finger. "I've been to the Werewolf camp twice. When I went with Lucius in February, there were thirty or forty werewolves. When I went again last month at the full moon, there were more than sixty."

In just over a month, the number nearly doubled. Greyback was systematically biting people, not only biting himself, but also sending his Werewolf out to bite. There were more than a dozen Attacks in northern Yorkshire, and he would run away after biting.

The victims, having nowhere to go after their transformation, all flocked to the mining village. Voldemort used resources to control Greyback and coordinate with the overall plan. The Werewolf army was still expanding in size and speed.

He then raised a second finger. "I followed Dumbledore for three weeks and saw firsthand how he recruited people."

He personally went to every place, sat opposite every wizard, drank the tea they brewed, and ate the snacks they served, showing them his utmost sincerity.

Few are willing to come, and even fewer are capable of fighting. The Prewett brothers are already considered the backbone of the Order of the Phoenix.

The elderly are unwilling to leave the mountains, and the retired Auror have families to take care of and businesses to safeguard; each has their own concerns. The young ones are enthusiastic, but inexperienced.

Dumbledore is racing against time, but he can't keep up.

The information he had was not the same as Orion's. His father was looking at politics, diplomacy, the power shifts within the Ministry of Magic, and information leaking from the Death Eaters circles.

While the Death Eaters, those Pureblood Wizards, firmly centered their beliefs on Voldemort, few truly believed in Voldemort's Pureblood Theory.

Voldemort's role in their eyes was clear: he was a knife to slice open the old cake of the Wizarding World, allowing them to secure more spots when the deck was reshuffled.

A knife is only useful when you hold it in your hand; it's not right to hold it to your neck. For now, the knife is pointing outwards, so there's no need to worry about hurting yourself.

But the knife has its own mind. It gets faster and faster, and more and more unruly. Sooner or later, the person holding the knife will find that they are not holding the handle, but the blade.

So everyone has their own plans, and there's no need to worry about that right now. Voldemort still has many enemies, and the knife is still useful.

However, this doesn't stop them from secretly collaborating and exchanging information. Pureblood families have been doing this for hundreds or even thousands of years, and they want to continue doing it this way.

The Black family are Pure-bloods among Pure-bloods, at the very top of the UK Wizarding World. Naturally, they would view the situation from the top down. Orion's judgment was independent and accurate.

However, in terms of the specific development of certain events, he still cannot compare to Regulus.

The year 1975 is the anchor point; all other inferences are deductions made in reverse.

He knew the timeline of the First Wizarding War, the speed of Voldemort's rise, the process of Dumbledore forming the Order of the Phoenix, and the turning point in the balance of power between the two sides.

Those pieces of information are the results, and all his analyses are deduced backward from these results. After deducing, he found that the logic is self-consistent.

The more accurate the timing, the more useful it is for the family strategy. The Black family is a large family, not the kind of impoverished household that can be easily taken away with a single Apparition.

When to consolidate industries, when to transfer assets, when to adjust strategies, when to relocate key figures to safe locations, and when to confront allies.

Every step needs a timetable; only with a timetable can you know what to do now and how quickly.

The Black family needs to position themselves before the war fully breaks out.

Voldemort's side was already in position, but what stance to take, what identity to assume, and how many bargaining chips to hold all needed to be considered and arranged.

It's normal to talk about Voldemort's little schemes, his half-hearted work, his own ideas, and his lack of full commitment; it's even abnormal not to talk about them.

Voldemort knew what was going on with his men, and he didn't need loyalty.

But there are still some things that cannot be said: Voldemort's progress in self-modification, the cycle of the soul tearing's effects on the physical body, that face that is becoming more and more like a snake, and that body that is becoming less and less like a human.

This information is directly linked to the timeline, but I can't tell my father.

He didn't elaborate last time in the Study, and he won't tonight either.

If one day my father were to be Legilimency Voldemort and have his brain ripped out, this crucial information would be leaked.

There are other ways to make your father Obliviate after hearing all this, but that's really pointless.

Regulus looked at Orion and suddenly thought that perhaps he should urge his father to spend more time on mental Magic.

There isn't just one way to practice Legilimency; the Black family's centuries-old tradition must have included several more advanced versions.

His lips twitched slightly, and he shifted his gaze from Orion's face to the direction of the fireplace.

Orion narrowed his eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

A smile flickered in Regulus's eyes, and he shook his head.

What can I possibly think?

I want you to be ambitious, my dear father.

He didn't respond to that, leaned back, and shrugged. "Less than a year, next summer at the latest."

Orion fell silent.

He naturally trusted Regulus's judgment.

To be honest, this information is not sufficient. The number of Werewolf has doubled, Dumbledore of men. These things, taken out of context, have very limited persuasiveness.

But Regulus said less than a year, and that was it, less than a year, just as he had done every time he discussed Voldemort's Core Affairs, leaving it at that.

There were some things Regulus wouldn't elaborate on, so Regulus wouldn't press him for details.

He knew his son's concerns, and he knew his son was protecting him.

This left him with a mixed feeling, unsure whether it was more relief or disappointment, but he accepted it.

The difference between a year and less is too great for the Black family's strategic planning.

We can still make arrangements at our leisure in a year, but in less than a year, we have to start scaling back now.

The peripheral industries need to be consolidated, key assets need to be withdrawn from unstable areas, and several working capital investments in Knockturn Alley need to be withdrawn.

Strengthen ties with centrist allies while maintaining a distance from Voldemort's camp just enough to avoid arousing suspicion.

If the timeframe is compressed to a year, some things can continue, some will have to be shelved, and some will have to be implemented before the war begins.

Orion clasped his hands together, propped his arms on the table, and looked at Regulus: "How much does Dumbledore know? About Voldemort?"

Regulus said, "He knows most of it. He's been to the Werewolf camp, he's chasing the Inferi creation site, and he knows about Giant, Dementor, dark creatures, the Ministry of Magic's movements, and the international situation."

Orion nodded, then asked, "What's Dumbledore's attitude?"

Regulus thought for a moment.

Dumbledore seemed to have no particular stance; he didn't make a declaration, didn't issue any harsh words, and didn't publish a manifesto against Voldemort.

He was getting things done, recruiting people, personally going to every place, talking to everyone, and not getting angry when rejected, just smiling and saying goodbye.

They established an intelligence network and planted tracking Magic in the Werewolf camp.

But he never revealed any specific attitude; he always appeared gentle and patient.

Regulus shook his head. "Dumbledore values him highly and has been actively seeking him out, but he—"

He stopped there and didn't continue.

Orion waited a moment, but received no further response.

I understand. It's the same old story. Regulus clearly knows more about Voldemort, but it's uncertain whether he can withstand Voldemort's Legilimency.

There are some things in the house that need to be picked up. The Shadow Veil, a legacy used by generations of Black family heads to hide secrets, shares the same origin as the Shadowless Trail, both being branches of shadow Magic.

The Shadowless Trail conceals the body, the Shadow Veil conceals the soul, wrapping the true consciousness behind a curtain woven from shadows, so that the Legilimency can only touch the illusion laid out in advance on the surface of the curtain.

The truly important things lie hidden in the shadows, unknown even to the intruders.

He hadn't practiced it because he used to think that Legilimency was sufficient.

As he grew older, his position within the Pure-blood Circle and the Ministry of Magic rose higher and higher, and no one dared to use Legilimency on him.

Later, when Voldemort rose to power, the Black family openly sided with him, maintaining a relatively stable relationship with the other side, and no one dared to mess with his head.

But things are different now. Voldemort is about to step into the limelight, and he and Voldemort will meet sooner or later.

There's enough time. The Shadow Veil is a family heirloom, saving you the trouble of starting from scratch; you just need to master it.

Orion pulled himself together and nodded.

In less than a year, every step the Black family took next was planned according to this timeline.

With the business concluded, Orion leaned back, his tone becoming more relaxed, a slight smile playing on his lips, "What's your identity called?"

Regulus smiled. "Geralt, adventurer."

Orion asked casually, "If Voldemort hadn't been investigating you, when were you planning to tell me about Geralt?"

Regulus grinned; there seemed to be a hint of emotion in his voice.

He adjusted his posture, leaning slightly to one side, and said casually, "I didn't intend to hide it. As I said before, Geralt is the one who will guide the strengthening of the soul and the path of Magic."

Orion looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and said nothing.

Regulus had told him about Nicolas Flamel's three elements of the soul: seeing, feeding, and anchoring. None of these can be missing. The clearer you see, the more stable your anchor; the more you feed, the clearer you see—it's a cycle.

Powerful wizards possess powerful souls, and the strength of their souls determines the upper limit of their Magic.

Therefore, this is not a political cover, nor a strategic disguise, or at least not just that; the son is using different identities, different experiences, and different battles to expand the dimensions of his soul.

There's also the Disintegration Charm; Regulus had told him about that idea in the Study before the start of the semester.

Extracting physical disintegration from the shockwave Conduction of the Whomping Willow, it achieves chain-like self-sustaining, destroying a city with a single spell.

The ultimate form of the Disintegration Charm requires support at the soul level; only a sufficiently powerful soul can cast and control it.

As for the path of Magic, that was something he only knew about but couldn't comprehend.

Orion's body suddenly relaxed, his expression remaining the same, but appearing much more relaxed. "The identity of Geralt is indeed convenient."

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

Orion's tone regained its composure as he added, "I wasn't praising you."

Regulus smiled. "Thank you, Father."

Orion didn't bother to correct him and just went along with what was convenient.

Geralt has already established himself with Dumbledore and has also made his mark with the Death Eaters.

There are also conflicts of interest within Voldemort's camp. Pureblood families compete for resources, status, and Voldemort's trust. Things that are inconvenient to do in Geralt's name are done cleanly by Black's identity.

No one would connect it to the Black family, and no one would trace it back to UK."

A name flashed through Regulus's mind: the Rowle family, Dolphin Rowle, the next stepping stone for Saiph, Geralt could handle.

He smiled and said, "My father is very thoughtful."

Orion didn't even lift his eyelids. "Don't even try."

He then asked about Dolohov.

Several versions of the story circulated within the Death Eaters community: a sneak attack, a sneak attack, and another sneak attack. Dolohov himself never came forward to explain, but the news leaked from his subordinates and, after several twists and turns, became increasingly outrageous.

Some say the white-haired wizard lurked in the shadows all night, striking when Dolohov Apparition; others say it wasn't just one person, but an entire Order of the Phoenix.

Regulus pursed his lips; there was no need to be modest in front of his father.

"That was a calculated attack. He wanted to buy time for his men to retreat, so I let him retreat. He needed to fight a battle to explain himself when he returned, so I cooperated with him. He wanted to run away, so I let him run away, but I left something behind before he did."

After listening, Orion was silent for a moment, then said with a slightly wistful tone, "A few years earlier than I thought."

Previously, it was estimated that Regulus would not reach the level of an elite Auror until the fourth or fifth grade, which was already the limit of what they thought their son could achieve.

The second year isn't even over yet, and they've already faced Dolohov head-on, dominating him throughout.

Dolohov was in Voldemort's innermost circle, and in terms of combat strength, he was among the top of the Death Eaters.

Regulus raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding.

My father said it was a few years too early. What does that mean? Does he mean he's progressing too quickly, or that a different timetable was originally planned for him?

He thought for a moment and decided to back down, "If we fight all out, I'll win in the end, but I might get injured."

Orion's expression was indescribable.

Regulus's tone was different now; his movements were larger, his expressions more varied, and his overall demeanor was noticeably more outgoing and direct than usual.

This kid didn't used to talk like this. He used to just say he'd fought them, and then wait for me to ask for details.

Perhaps Geralt's identity not only feeds the soul, but also shapes Regulus in turn.

This is probably part of the nourishment process; for the soul to grow strong, it must first be able to accommodate its different selves.

Orion glanced towards the door, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Alright, go back to your room and tidy up, change your clothes, your mother is waiting for you."

Regulus stood up, Baruk rolled over in the fireplace flames at the same time.

The little creature listened to the whole thing in the fire for most of the time, occasionally turning over, kicking its legs, and sticking its pincers into the flames, causing Mars to fly everywhere, never stopping.

Then it sprang up, leaping out of the flames and landing on the corner of the table. It shook its dark red bristles, turned around, faced Orion, raised its front legs, and swished them with a clattering sound.

I greeted it twice tonight, but the old leader ignored it.

Orion chuckled and nodded at it.

Baruk's pincers clicked repeatedly, and he jumped up contentedly, landing on Regulus's shoulder.

Regulus said to Orion, "Father, I'll go out now."

Orion waved his hand. "Go."

Turning around and leaving the Study, I saw wall lamps lit up in the Corridor, and some of the Ancestral Portraits on the wall still had their eyes open.

An old man wearing a 17th-century wig peeked halfway out of the picture frame, looked him up and down, snorted, and then withdrew.

Next to it is a portrait of an old lady, who is covering her mouth with a fan, and her eyes are curved in a smile.

Regulus went upstairs, went to his room to change his clothes, and then went to see his mother.