"...I heard you've mixed in as Slytherin's ghost?"
The leather jacket on William's body jumped off his shoulder on its own and landed on a nearby rack. He glanced at Regulus, who was standing nearby like a javelin, trying to minimize his presence, and directly shifted the topic to him.
"..."
Regulus didn't know how to react for a moment. During this time, as a ghost, he had made the acquaintance of many of his kind, such as Nearly Headless Nick, Sir Fatty, and even Peeves... and these guys had different evaluations of William, but they all had a unified conclusion: this person was terrifyingly strong.
Especially Peeves, who, in Regulus's impression, was a reckless spirit unafraid of anything. However, the students now had a way to deal with it—
Just pretend to be greeting Professor Richard behind it before it played a prank.
—a single tactic that worked everywhere because Peeves didn't dare to gamble.
And now, Regulus recalled his attitude towards William when they first met in the Headmaster's Office. It was definitely not good—though ignorance is no sin, every time he heard Peeves describe William as a demon crawling out of hell or the embodiment of Satan descending to earth... Regulus still felt a bit uneasy.
"Why so tense? I got along pretty well with your brother..."
William noticed this, and as he walked into the room, he patted Regulus on the shoulder like an old cadre, the real touch causing Regulus's face to change once more—Was this intimidation? This was definitely, absolutely intimidation, right? How could a normal person touch a ghost's body?
"Sir, just now..."
Seeing the topic seemingly starting to veer off, Tom instinctively frowned and immediately spoke up trying to correct it...
"Shh—"
The voice rang directly in the boy's mind.
He instinctively looked up, only to see William's face still smiling, his hand still resting on Regulus's shoulder, but those eyes seemed to be looking at him, full of a commanding meaning—no matter what you want to say, just keep silent for now—that was what Tom read from them.
"Just now, what happened?"
Only at this point did William turn his head, looking at Tom with a face full of confusion.
"Just now..."
Regulus found a topic he could interject in and, seeing Tom inexplicably frozen, decided to help the boy finish.
"Just now—I encountered a problem, Professor, how exactly does Occlumency function freely in sleep?"
Tom interrupted Regulus directly, turning to ask with a curious attitude.
"Occlumency? That's not a course first-year students have access to..."
William chuckled, following the topic and continuing, handing the package under his arm to Dobby, who took it dazedly and ran towards the inside of the Room of Requirement without stopping, his small figure disappearing around the corridor corner.
Meanwhile, Tom almost instinctively looked up at William's expression, only to find that it hadn't changed at all—
The boy fell silent for a moment, then pressed down his inner doubts, only asking the improvised question he had prepared, and pulled the standing-there-like-a-nail Regulus away from the Room of Requirement.
The figure of one person and one ghost disappeared behind the door, the stone door silently closed, and the Room of Requirement returned to its usual silence. Only the shadows cast by the lights on the ceiling swayed, and the perpetual, subtle smile on William's face seemed painted on, freezing for a moment. He didn't move immediately but stood quietly as if listening to something—
A few seconds later, with a slight "pop" sound, Dobby appeared at his feet, holding a tray with a steaming cup of honey water, the surface of the cup condensing with tiny droplets of water, reflecting a warm orange under the light.
"Sir..."
Dobby's speaking voice was no longer stuttering, it seemed only in front of Tom did he reveal such a plight.
William's gaze, which had been falling into the void, slowly focused, finally stopping on Dobby, warmth replacing other emotions, "Thank you, Dobby."
He took the honey water from the tray, the temperature at his fingertips just right.
"How have you been feeling lately?"
William sat on the sofa, casually asking, his gaze landing on Dobby as if confirming something.
Dobby straightened his chest, trying to look more spirited, "Rest assured, sir! Dobby is living very well! The little ones are also quite obedient—" The House-Elf began to eagerly recount his recent experiences, though what experiences could he really have.
William didn't interrupt Dobby, only speaking once it had finished saying all it wanted, "Well done, go get some rest, Dobby—there's nothing to busy yourself with tonight."
"Yes, sir! Goodnight, sir!" Dobby bowed deeply, his pointed nose almost touching his knees, then disappeared with a "pop."
And so, only William was left in the Room of Requirement's living room.
"As if... only you guys know how to play this game?"
After a long silence, William's self-talk suddenly echoed in the air, his voice almost inaudible, "How did it end up with us being on the same page?" He didn't get up but placed the empty cup in his hand on the table beside the sofa. Then, William leaned back and closed his eyes—
Almost at the moment he closed his eyes—
A strong sense of weightlessness and disorientation seized him, his consciousness seemed to be pulled out of this familiar body, then thrust into a long thin tube, a terrifying suction coming from the other end, casting William's consciousness into a sea of raging lightning and metal luster.
William felt like a piece of sodium thrown into water, a violent "chemical reaction" accompanied by frenzied explosions and high temperatures, everything around him being stripped away, changing—
Until he opened his eyes again.
The warm living room of the Room of Requirement had disappeared, the nighttime Black Lake looked as if a black hole capable of swallowing everything, involuntarily drawing one's gaze.
William turned to look at the woman beside him—
On Minerva McGonagall's usually somewhat stern face was an expression rarely, if ever, seen there.
The air seemed to freeze for a second, only the night wind howling between the two, ruffling the meticulously coiled hair of "Professor McGonagall."
Finally, she spoke, her voice clear and cold, "What's the matter, Ares?"