Black, you've been found out

On the third Wednesday of September, fog rolled from Black Lake all the way down to the Castle.

The sky was overcast in the morning, and only the blurry spires of a few towers could be seen outside the window. A damp, cool wind blew into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, turning the pages of the books on the teacher's desk.

On the blackboard, a Werewolf is pacing back and forth.

Its back is arched high, in a semi-upright posture, with slender arms hanging at its sides, its chest and abdomen almost touching its skeleton, and sparse fur growing from its back all the way to its bent legs.

Walking to the edge, it turned its long, narrow head, opened its mouth to reveal fangs, and its eyes were two Black Hole. It scratched the dark board with its claws.

The white lettering beside it moved with it, with thin lines pointing to the mouth, nose, and hind legs respectively.

Aksha stood to the side of the podium, her book turned to the Werewolf chapter.

Today she wore a reddish-brown long dress with a narrow black Orion's Belt around her waist, and a beige short robe over it. Her hair was pulled back, and the amber pendants by her ears swayed gently as she tilted her head, their warm glow lingering on her neck.

The young wizards' gazes were almost entirely focused on her. It was hard to tell whether they were listening to the lesson or just looking at her. In any case, they all stretched their necks straight and stared intently at the podium. Even the few who were usually the most distracted had their eyes burning.

"When it's a full moon, don't expect it to recognize you. Calling its name, calming it down, or assuring it you'll help—none of that will work."

Aksha stopped between two rows of desks, pointed to the blackboard. "Especially don't go near it."

The Werewolf tilted its head back, its mouth opening wider and wider, its chest bulging, and several curved White Line spreading from the corners of its mouth, letting out a proper wolf howl.

Aksha wrinkled her nose, pressed her finger down, and cut off her voice. "It's quite a loud noise. If you really run into them, don't just stand there listening."

Several simple trees sprouted from the blackboard, and a little man wearing a pointed hat appeared under the trees.

The Werewolf lowered his head, then suddenly spread his arms and chased after him. The little man's hat was askew as he ran, and he slipped on the ground. The Werewolf pounced on a tree, his thin face flattened, his teeth sticking out.

Laughter suddenly erupted in the classroom.

"The obstacle has to stay between you and it," Aksha said, moving the little man back behind the tree. The Werewolf tore its own face off the trunk, shook its head, and walked around to the side. "It can go around, and it can jump. You chose this tree yourselves, so don't block yourselves off."

A Gryffindor raised his hand. "Professor, can you turn the tree into a rope and tie it up?"

"If I can transform, that's fine. Even if I only know the Rope Spell, it'll come in handy."

Aksha nodded and had the little man wave his wand. A White Line stretched between two trees, and the Werewolf rushed over, tripped over it, and flipped forward. He braced himself on the ground with his long arms, and the rope snapped.

The little man stood to the side clapping. The Werewolf looked up, and he immediately hugged his hat and hid behind a tree. Laughter broke out below.

Aksha looked at the boy who had just asked the question, "It's easy for it to break free of the rope. Are you planning to wait until it gets up before running?"

The boy quickly shook his head. "Trip it and walk away."

"After casting the spell, leave. If it steps over you, breaks your foot, or simply pounces, you need to leave yourself room to retreat."

Aksha reconnected the White Line and added another one behind the tree, offset by its position. "Use the tree trunk for support, spread them out, don't rush to thicken the same rope. If it can block it a little longer, it might be enough for you to make a turn."

"And its nose—it'll find you by following your scent. It'll relax when it hides behind a tree, but it'll get bitten sooner or later."

She made the Werewolf lower its head and sniff along the footprints left by the little man, its nose touching the ground.

Avery raised his hand, grinning, "Dungbomb, Professor! Throw it in its face!"

Akasha looked at him, her gaze lingering on the pocket of his robe. "You brought this?"

"I didn't bring it today," Avery patted his chest. "I mean, if I happen to have it."

"Keep it for recess, Mr. Cuthbert. You think it'll wait for you if you have to fumble for something in your pocket and then throw it accurately?"

She picked up a small glass bottle from the podium; through the bottle, she could see a dark yellow liquid. "Odor repellent. When sealed, you can't smell it, but once it's broken, it's very unpleasant. For people with sensitive noses, it can buy them a little time."

The little figure on the blackboard suddenly had a bottle in its hand, threw it, and a cloud of mist with tiny curls dispersed.

The Werewolf sniffed, his head shaking from the sneezing. The little man had just peeked out to look back when the wind blew the fog over, causing him to bend over and tumble from the fumes.

"It depends on the wind direction. If it's blowing with the wind, you'll smell it yourself. And don't put repellent on yourself. Someone actually did that and managed to evade being chased, but then had to ask a friend to bring him food through the door."

"What if it's too dark around here?" Aksha darkened the trees on the blackboard again. The Werewolf's eyes were still moving behind the trees, and the little man held up his wand with a tiny white dot shining at the tip.

Someone immediately answered, "The Lumos!"

Someone nearby chimed in, "Shine the light brighter into its eyes?"

Aksha gestured for them to look at the blackboard. The little man raised his wand high, and the light illuminated his hat and robes. The Werewolf turned and charged at him.

"When illuminating the way, don't hold the light above your head. If you want to disturb it, shine a short, strong beam of light directly at it, then look away beforehand and remember which way you're going."

It has adapted to the dark, and will be disturbed by sudden exposure to strong light, but will it be blinded forever after just one exposure?

"You're dreaming! Run away while it's hiding from the light, don't stay behind and count how many times it blinked."

A flash of white light appeared on the blackboard. The Werewolf raised its paw to cover its face, while the little man darted behind a tree and ran away on the other side.

Aksha casually added a low wall for him to climb over, and when the Werewolf reopened his eyes, all that was in front of him were swaying tree branches.

"Slowing Charm will also work, but how long it lasts depends on your usual training. Strike before the target gets close; don't wait until your claws touch the robe before remembering the spell."

She turned the page back to the beginning. "Leave if you can, and ask for help if there are adult wizards nearby. I'm telling you this today so that you can get away temporarily and your spells can't subdue it."

Restraints it, block it, and give yourself a chance. Don't deliberately go near the Werewolf just to try out a newly learned method.

The class was more than halfway through when there was a knock on the door.

Aksha stopped her explanation and turned to see Slughorn push open the door and come in, his hand still on the doorknob. "Excuse me, Professor Kahnstein, I need to borrow Mr. Black."

The old man stood by the door, his gaze passing over the desks and landing directly on Regulus.

Aksha put down the book, nodded, and said cheerfully, "Of course, he's yours."

Regulus glanced at Slughorn.

The old man looked the same as always, in a velvet vest, bow tie, and with a big belly, always smiling, but I could tell something was different.

It was common for Slughorn to chat with him; they could talk during breaks, after class, or before breakfast. But this was the first time he had been called out of class.

He stood up and nodded slightly to Aksha: "Professor."

Aksha waved her hand casually, as if shooing someone away.

The classroom was quiet for a moment, then as Regulus walked past the desks, a low murmur gradually rose from behind.

One Slytherin turned to ask his neighbor, while another was about to lean forward to inquire. Avery glanced back at them, his face expressionless.

The person who was speaking swallowed the second half of their sentence, the person next to them sat up straight, and the whispers gradually faded away.

The door closed behind him, and on the other side of the Corridor stood an adult male wizard, dressed in Auror uniform, a dark gray robe with the insignia of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement embroidered on the cuffs.

He looked at Regulus with a cold and stern expression, his gaze fixed on Regulus's face, neither approaching nor offering a greeting.

Slughorn nodded in that direction, then turned and led Regulus toward the stairs, with the Auror following a dozen steps behind.

Regulus stood beside the little old man and casually asked, "Who's here?"

"Barty Crouch and Alastor Moody are also in my office," Slughorn said directly. "There's a..."

They believe you're involved in the murder.

Regulus turned his head and raised his eyebrows slightly. The professor met his gaze, nodded solemnly, and stepped down the stairs.

The stairwell was darker than the classroom, with pale sunlight streaming through narrow windows, illuminating the worn stone steps.

Slughorn walked rather hastily, his robes swaying with each step. "Edmund Wilton, a member of the Wizengamot, was the one who proposed the High-Powered Magic Filing and the Inherited Magic Registration Draft on the day the Rowle family surrendered."

Regulus remembered that this was the person who read the first draft of the "Pureblood families Magic Conduct Code of Conduct Filing Agreement" at the Wizengamot meeting.

Magic exceeding the prescribed power needs to be reported, and family-inherited Magic needs to be registered. Literally, every family is bound by these restrictions, but when this was brought up at the time, everyone knew who it was aimed at.

Later, the Ministry of Magic took the documents to the smaller families; some signed, some stalled, and the larger families continued to observe.

My father had mentioned it before, and even talked about the reactions of several families who came to visit. Now that the person who proposed the draft is dead, Crouch brought the Auror to the school to find him.

"It wasn't me," Regulus said, looking at Slughorn.

"I've already informed Orion and Dumbledore," the old man immediately interjected, leading him around the corner of the stairs. "They request that you be taken back to the Ministry of Magic, and I've asked Crouch to wait in his office."

Regulus bowed slightly to the professor. "Thank you, Professor."

Slughorn waved his hand and continued walking, telling him the current situation, "Wilton was found dead in his secluded country home. The Ministry of Magic has been investigating for several days, and there are reportedly Magic traces at the scene consistent with the battlefield at the Rowle Manor. Crouch brought the investigation data; we'll hear the specific conclusions when we meet."

As Regulus reached the next flight of stairs, the Auror behind him turned around. Regulus glanced back; the other man maintained his original distance, his right hand free, and his gaze met Regulus's without looking away.

Regulus withdrew his gaze and walked down the stone steps.

Crouch's personal visit, with Moody leading the team, clearly indicates his intention to take him away as soon as possible. There's no need to make such a show of force to seek the Black family's opinion first.

The old man has already sent out the message, and his father will soon know. This time difference is probably what Crouch wants. As for whether there are other obstacles on his father's side, it is not clear at the moment, but Crouch will not have much time to spare.

As they passed a closed classroom door, Slughorn slowed his pace, with Regulus following beside him, recalling the argument his father had recounted.

Crouch had argued that any use of force between families should be authorized by the Ministry of Magic, Orion countered with the Blood Feud Declaration and the Ancient Pureblood Law. The battle at Rowle family was still fought, and the Ministry of Magic could only watch from the sidelines.

Now that there's been a murder, and the victim still holds a seat in Wizengamot, he can finally find a new excuse to come knocking.

The proposal was directed at Black, the proposer was murdered, and Magic traces allegedly belonging to him were left at the scene.

The motive for revenge and the evidence of the Spellcasting were all gathered for him. As long as the investigation materials were written convincingly enough, they could be sent all the way to Crouch's desk and then to Hogwarts.

We'll have to see for ourselves what the Magic traces revealed. As for Crouch, since he's willing to bring people here personally, he's probably quite willing to let UK wizards see it. The Heir of the Black family can still be taken away by the Ministry of Magic.

Slughorn stopped at the fork in the road, turned and beckoned to the Auror: "Please go ahead and tell Crouch that we've arrived. My student and I have one more thing to say."

The Auror glanced at him, then at Regulus. The old man stood there, his hand on the door, waiting for him to come over.

"Right here, it won't take long." Slughorn's voice was polite, but his attitude was firm.

Auror nodded, walked past the two men, and headed towards the office. He first spoke quietly with a colleague with graying temples by the door, then stepped aside to make room for him at the door.

Slughorn turned back, his gaze landing on Regulus's face. "Is there anything else you need to tell me first?"

Regulus shook his head. "Let's hear what they found out first."

The professor looked at him for a moment, nodded, and led him forward.

Two Auror stood by the office door. The sorcerer with gray sideburns stood against the wall, while the other had a short beard, and a section of his dark robe was visible around the corner in the distance.

Several gazes fell on Regulus at the same time. The short-bearded sorcerer clenched his fingers, his thumb pressing against the handle of his staff. His colleague next to him moved half a step outward, widening the originally narrow passage.

Regulus glanced around and walked through the space they had cleared, the two Auror following him with wary eyes.

Slughorn pushed open the office door.

The fireplace was burning, and the heat wafted in. The Potions ingredients on the shelf were still in their original places, and the glass jars reflected the firelight. People in several group photos on the wall were looking out of the frames.

Crouch sat in a chair near the desk, wearing a dark robe, with a stack of documents in his hand.

Moody stood to his side and behind, facing the door, while three other Auror remained inside.

Regulus walked in, his gaze landing on Crouch's face.