"...What are you thinking about?"
To be honest, although he was a ghost, looking at Snape's gloomy expression (was it love?) and him hesitating to speak, Regulus still felt a chill that made even a "ghost" uncomfortable, and he instinctively touched his arm. Unfortunately, he wouldn't get goosebumps.
"How did you manage it? You..."
"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I died ten years ago."
Regulus thought saying that would deter whatever offensive thought Snape had— but clearly, Mr. Black, who didn't understand the whole situation, made a misjudgment. When the words "died ten years ago" came out, he noticed a brief brightness in the person's eyes in front of him—
But somehow, it dimmed again in an instant.
What is up with this person?
Regulus felt a bit creeped out, and he instinctively rubbed his arm, "Then you should answer my question, that man just now—"
Before Regulus finished asking, he saw that figure in the black robe suddenly "glide" away, turning and leaving.
"?"
Just left like that?
Regulus's silver phantom began to ripple violently, the edges of the silver-white outline even started to show visible ripples, clearly, the ghost's mind was not as calm as it seemed— he instinctively wanted to chase after but stopped and turned around as if realizing something.
"—Hello."
Tom's expression didn't change as his gaze passed through the silver-white ghost in front of him, confirming that the "Bat Spirit" had indeed left before he came out from behind the corner of the wall.
"It's you, you didn't leave?"
Regulus felt a bit surprised, although he didn't know what he was surprised about either.
"Professor Snape isn't the head of Gryffindor."
Tom shook his head, now students from other houses no longer feared Snape's random point deductions because as long as there was evidence, a certain "generous" Hufflepuff graduate was more than willing to help them get the points back, sometimes even adding a bit more. Because of this, Snape had been challenged by students in class frequently recently.
Especially the fifth-year Gryffindors.
Yes, you guessed it, this was actually instigated by a certain unnamed Harry Potter.
"And it seems you know me... the old me. You're a Death Eater, right?"
Even though he'd already read the other's mind, to avoid seeming too out of the ordinary, and without knowing the "ghost's" personality, Tom specifically used a question to confirm, however, for some reason, the ghost's flickering frequency suddenly sped up.
He even seemed to want to run away?
If Regulus were alive, hearing such shocking words from someone, he would definitely try to run away—but he was already dead.
Right, I'm already dead, what am I afraid of?
Suddenly understanding everything, Mr. Black calmed down, looking at the boy in front of him, though his words still quivered slightly, "Are you... the Dark Lord?"
"Once I was."
Tom nodded, seeing that the other did not deny being called a Death Eater, a smile appeared on the boy's face. At some point, a Speedwriting Quill and a piece of parchment suddenly appeared floating behind him, "Since that's the case, is it my turn to ask you now?"
Now that's fair give and take!!!
Regulus instinctively nodded—this person is normal, so what was up with that greasy-haired creature just now?
"How do you Death Eaters view Voldemort?"
As Tom asked, the Speedwriting Quill floating behind him started to gently "dance".
"...I take back what I said about you being normal just now."
"?"
"No, it's just my soliloquy—who on earth are you? You're definitely not him..."
"Before you answer my question, I have the right to remain silent, Mr. Black—"
"...How do you know I'm Black?"
"You've already gathered two questions, aren't you planning to answer any?"
"..."
...
Meanwhile, in the Headmaster's Office, Fawkes let out a slight, drowsy gurgling sound from its perch.
"...So, Regulus Black didn't return as a normal ghost?"
Dumbledore's azure eyes peered through his half-moon glasses at William, the transparent lenses reflecting the firelight from the fireplace, "Did you use a Secret Technique to pull him out from both the Illusory Realm and the cracks of time?" The old headmaster narrowed his eyes, his tone devoid of reproach, filled only with a profound concern, "William, meddling with the boundary between life and death may..."
"How do you think Harry came back last time? Don't worry, it's not my first time doing this, I have experience. Besides..."
William put down his half-cooled teacup, his tone playful, "I can assure you, when I pushed open that door, there definitely wasn't a sign saying 'Beware of Dog, Keep Out' or 'Netherworld Office' hanging on it, and as for consequences..."
He pondered for a moment, then continued, "Compared to being messed with by a 'Soul Artifact Spirit' and a self-proclaimed Divine Envoy 'Thousand-Year-Old Zongzi' joining forces, I think just bringing back a knowledgeable little ghost to get some insight, the risk-to-reward ratio is like that recent clearance sale at Gringotts in Diagon Alley—"
"..."
"..."
"Ah, Gringotts clearance sale... I think I might have guessed how that damned Golden Cup fell into the hands of that old Zongzi."
The Gringotts clearance sale, as the name suggests, was when the goblins at Gringotts were forced to liquidate the assets stored in the vaults due to overflow—in fact, normally this issue wouldn't arise, everything started that night with a green rain—
Because William almost inadvertently (not inadvertently) killed almost all the Death Eaters in the British Magic Realm, and those Pure-Bloods had quite a bit of wealth, during their time in Azkaban, those assets were kept safely in Gringotts' vault—
Meanwhile, Gringotts was prepared to reclaim those assets if those people died and couldn't continue the payments—
Yes, the goblins made preparations, they just didn't expect these guys to die so quickly and uniformly.