The clamor of the Slytherin welcome party had not yet fully subsided, and the crowd was dispersing in twos and threes, whispering about the brief duel that had just taken place.
Regulus had just stepped out of the open space in the center of the common room, preparing to return to his dormitory, when a voice called out to him.
"Regulus."
It was Narcissa Black. She was standing by the archway leading to the girls' dormitory, not surrounded by other upper-year girls as usual; she was clearly waiting there specifically for him.
Several upper-year boys, who had originally intended to surround Regulus and say something to the newly minted Head, saw this and wisely stopped in their tracks.
"Cousin Narcissa." Regulus stopped and walked toward her. He wasn't surprised that Narcissa would seek him out, though it was a bit earlier than he had expected.
Narcissa didn't speak, but signaled with her eyes for him to follow.
The two walked one after the other into a quiet stone corridor outside the common room. There were no portraits here, only cold stone walls and eerie green torches burning every few steps.
After ensuring no one was around, Narcissa turned around, her face a mix of worry and seriousness.
She took an envelope from her sleeve, sealed with black wax. The seal was stamped with a gruesome skull with a snake protruding from its mouth.
It was a symbol that had not yet been made public, but was already an open secret in certain circles.
"A letter from Bella for you." Narcissa handed the letter over, her voice kept very low. "She specifically instructed me to give it to you only after you were certain to have secured the position of Head."
Regulus took the letter. The black envelope felt slightly cool to the touch, carrying a trace of unsettling magical residue.
He didn't open it immediately, but looked at Narcissa instead.
Narcissa seemed to understand his question and sighed softly. "The rumors outside are getting tighter, Regulus."
Her voice carried a hint of fatigue. "That Lord, his influence is expanding rapidly. It's no longer just secret meetings and minor skirmishes.
In the Ministry of Magic, in the Wizengamot, and even on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, there are his people, or those who fear him.
Some shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade have quietly changed owners, and several tabloid editors who spoke out against him have resigned to 'recuperate'.
Furthermore, two officials in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who publicly questioned the abuse of the Statute of Secrecy were found last month to have accidentally triggered dangerous experimental magic in their homes; they were seriously injured and admitted to St. Mungo's."
She looked at Regulus. "He is very resourceful and very charismatic. He has woven a vast web using promises, threats, and the tangible display of his formidable power.
Among the pure-blood families, the Lestrange family has long been at the core. Families like Nott, Carrow, and Yaxley have also clearly taken a side. More people are watching and weighing their options. Malfoy…"
She took a deep breath. "…Malfoy is among them as well."
Regulus understood what she meant.
Narcissa Black herself might not fully agree with Lord Voldemort's mad scheme of conquest and purging, but she was about to marry into the Malfoy family. Her stance would be bound to the choices of Lucius Malfoy and the entire House of Malfoy.
She had no choice.
This roughly matched the history he knew, and the details even more clearly sketched out the landscape before Lord Voldemort's first rise to power.
"Thank you for telling me, Cousin," Regulus said calmly, tucking the letter into the inner pocket of his robes.
Narcissa looked at his calm, unruffled face, seemingly trying to find even a hint of panic or fear in his eyes, but she failed.
In the end, she just whispered, "Be careful of Bella. She's different now. And be careful of the contents of that letter. You are still young, but that doesn't mean you can stay out of this forever."
Having said that, she gave a slight nod, turned, and walked quickly away from the stone corridor, the hem of her robes brushing against the stone floor with a faint sound.
When he returned to the dormitory, Avery Cuthbert, Hermes Mulciber, and Alex Rosier hadn't returned yet.
Regulus pulled his bed curtains shut and cast a Silencing Charm before taking out the black letter.
Tearing open the wax seal, a faint scent—a mixture of some expensive perfume and a deeper hint of something scorched—wafted out.
The letter was written on heavy parchment. The handwriting was wild and scrawled, the strokes so forceful they nearly punctured the paper, revealing the writer's agitated and unstable emotions.
**To my dear Cousin Regulus:**
**I have heard that you are starting to make a name for yourself at Hogwarts, having won the position of Slytherin Head. I am deeply gratified.**
**The noble blood of the Black family flows within you; you truly have not disappointed me, the family, or That Lord!**
**This is a great era, Regulus!**
**The old order is crumbling. The decadent Ministry of Magic is controlled by cowards and Mudblood-sympathizers, desecrating our birthright and glory!**
**But dawn is coming!**
**A true king has already risen. He will lead us to purge this filthy world and rebuild the eternal order that belongs to pure-blood wizards!**
**Power! Glory! Dominance! That is everything we deserve!**
**You have shown talent, but that is far from enough! You must grow faster, become stronger, and more steadfast!**
**The games of Slytherin are just the beginning; the true battlefield is outside the castle!**
**That Lord needs loyal and powerful followers. The House of Black must occupy the most dazzling position in this new temple!**
**Do not be deceived by weak emotions; do not be bound by hypocritical morality!**
**Power is truth, and truth belongs only to the victors!**
**I have already informed That Lord of your situation. He is very interested in you. A Black who shows such extraordinary skill at such a young age—it has shown him your potential.**
**Remember this attention, Regulus. It is a supreme honor. It should be the driving force for your progress. Do not fail it!**
**Be prepared at all times, Cousin. When the summons comes, prove that you are worthy of the name Black, worthy of serving a greater cause!**
**—Your loyal and expectant Cousin,**
**Bellatrix Lestrange**
The letter was finished.
Regulus placed the parchment on his knees, his face expressionless.
The fanaticism, paranoia, and thirst for violent power overflowing from between the lines of Bella's letter were even stronger than he had expected.
That was no longer a simple follower's mindset, but a pathological devotion and worship.
The sense of coercion in the letter was also obvious. Bella—or rather, Lord Voldemort behind her—had not excluded him from their sight just because he was only eleven years old.
Especially since the letter mentioned that Lord Voldemort had already noticed him and was very interested; this was by no means a good thing.
That often meant close scrutiny and harsh trials, as well as the destruction that could descend the moment expectations were not met.
He had originally thought there would be at least a few years of a buffer period, allowing him to accumulate strength and find his own path more leisurely.
Now it seemed time was more pressing than he had imagined. Lord Voldemort's net was tightening, and the Black family was already deeply entangled in it.
A cold sense of irritation rapidly sprouted within his habitually calm heart.
When Regulus walked out of the dormitory, there were still many people in the common room.
At a glance, he saw Alge Travers, the fifth-year whose pride he had publicly wounded at the start of the term, surrounded by several lackeys who were also from pure-blood families.
They occupied the area around the fireplace, speaking in voices that were neither too loud nor too soft, their eyes occasionally darting toward the dormitory corridor.
Seeing Regulus come out, Travers intentionally raised his voice.
"…So, no matter how good the talent is, he's still just a little baby who needs looking after. What does being the first-year Head even matter?"
"A true Slytherin looks at the long term, at actual influence. Does he really think he's someone important just because he was praised a couple of times for some cleverness and luck?"
The lackeys around him let out a few low chuckles in agreement.
Several upper-year students who hadn't left yet, including some neutrals, looked over with expressions of people expecting a good show.
They naturally knew about the previous friction between Travers and Regulus, and understood that Travers jumping out now was nothing more than an attempt to find trouble and humiliate the new Head while his fame was at its peak.
This kind of drama was not new in Slytherin.
Avery Cuthbert and Alex Rosier were currently in the nearby sofa area. Avery frowned, looking at Travers and then at Regulus.
Alex, on the other hand, had a look of unease on his face.
Even Hermes Mulciber, who had been hiding in the corner, moved closer to Regulus, stopping about five meters away and watching the scene in silence.
"Travers," a sixth-year girl—the one who had praised Regulus before—spoke up to warn him. "That's enough. He's only a first-year."
"First-year?" Alge Travers sneered and turned his head, finally looking directly at Regulus with a face full of undisguised malice and a triumphant sort of provocation.
"A first-year already knows how to use some obscure techniques learned from who-knows-where against upper-years? A first-year can already make certain people swoon and revolve around him?"
"I'm just stating facts. When you're young, you should know how to keep a low profile and learn to respect your seniors, instead of being arrogant just because you have a bit of talent."
"Do you really think being the Slytherin Head is such a great achievement?"
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