Four months later, in March 1964.
Walburga organized a soirée under the pretext of a spring gathering for the ladies of the family, but the true purpose was to exhibit the precocious talents of her firstborn.
Bellatrix, thirteen years old, was the first to arrive. She wore a dark green suit and wore her hair combed with an obsessive meticulousness. Her eyes swept the place with an accusatory look, seeking defects in every corner and in every person.
And upon finding her target, she walked directly toward Sirius, ignoring the rest. "I heard that you made your living room explode."
Sirius raised his chin with a defiant gesture. "I already control my magic."
Andromeda, nine years old, and Narcissa, eight, entered following the trail of their mother, Druella. Andromeda dedicated a sweet smile to Regulus, while Narcissa scrutinized the new decoration of the living room with a critical eye.
The meeting began.
The adults immersed themselves in their usual conversations: restructurings in the Ministry of Magic and the latest nuptial engagements. They debated if the fortune of a certain family sufficed to compensate for the impurity of their blood, weighing galleons against blood.
The children occupied a low table arranged for them, served with miniature porcelain tableware. Sirius shifted in his seat, unable to contain the desire to exhibit his new tricks.
While Regulus found himself lost in a theoretical disquisition.
Why did Transfiguration demand visualizing a concrete form? If his will were limited to altering the state of matter, without imposing a defined structure on it... what would be the result?
"Pay attention!" Sirius focused all his will on the silver spoon in front of him.
Magic responded, beginning to bend the metal, curving.
Euphoria took over him and he sought a more pronounced curvature, centering his will even more.
And the spoon twisted abruptly over itself, deforming completely.
Ecstatic, Sirius averted his gaze toward Bellatrix, seeking her reaction.
But that fraction of a second sufficed to break his concentration.
Magic, free of tethers, overflowed and rushed violently over the rest of the tableware.
!
Alerted by the violent fluctuation, Regulus looked up.
The silverware on the table began to mutate before his eyes. The metallic shine vanished, devoured by a pink and fleshy tone, while the smooth surface broke into segmented rings.
The transformation was in an instant.
Where before there was cutlery, now twelve swollen earthworms writhed on the tablecloth.
Inevitably this attracted the attention of the adults and Walburga's face lost all its color at once.
Druella deposited her tea cup slowly, frozen in a rigid grimace.
While Bellatrix arched her eyebrows and covered her mouth with her hand, hiding a malicious surprise.
Contemplating his work, Sirius remained petrified.
"I..." He was choked by shame.
Walburga quickly caught her wand and Regulus caught the glint of fury in her gaze, but it was not only anger for the ruined snack, but the humiliation, the shame of having been made a fool.
'Shit.'
If she exploded, everything would end in disaster, Sirius would receive a punishment and the entire house would have to endure her wailing for three days.
Annoyed, he looked down at the earthworms.
'... I give it to him, it is an impeccable transformation.'
First, the analysis. The transformation magic had not annihilated the physical base, it had simply reorganized the molecular arrangement.
The silver atoms were still there.
Therefore, the metallic memory effect must persist, the key lay in locating the echo of the last stable form before the change.
Raising his hand, he held it suspended ten centimeters from the worms...
For the majority of wizards, magic flows with emotion and training, but Regulus had discovered that his control operated at a level of precision almost impossible to imagine.
It was not only a question of strength or talent, but of absolute accuracy.
For him, casting a spell did not require anger, fear nor exaltation.
It was enough to think it.
His mind automatically erected complex structures, breaking down the magical flow into infinitesimal threads. He calculated vectors, adjusted the intensity and molded the magic without wasting anything.
Magic ceased to be an impulse and became a controlled, ordered, precise process.
Sometimes he had the sensation that his brain functioned like a kind of machine, capable of analyzing and reorganizing magic, much faster than what any wizard could do.
For that reason, on more than one occasion, he could not avoid wondering if this was not, in reality, his true privilege of being a traveler... someone who did not belong entirely to this reality.
Under his palm, a silver light burst from the insides of the worms. They stopped writhing, levitated one by one, and aligned forming a hexagon.
Leaning forward, Bellatrix's eyes were wide.
Narcissa stifled a scream, covering her mouth with her hands.
"By Merlin...", whispered Andromeda.
The reversion was set in motion. The bodies contracted and stretched while the radiance consumed them.
In ten seconds, the worms disappeared and the tableware reappeared, floating in the air, bathed in light.
With a slight movement of fingers, Regulus guided the pieces and they descended softly to their exact positions.
Spoons, forks, knives, cups and saucers landed without a single millimeter of deviation.
Only the deformed spoon remained.
The crease was deep and the material suffered structural fatigue.
Extending his finger, Regulus brushed the imperfection.
'Rearrangement of the structure...'
'Requires local heating up to the recrystallization temperature, avoiding the melting point...'
His magic simulated the thermal effect, adjusting the vibrational frequency to enter into resonance with the silver atoms.
The crease vanished.
The atoms returned to their original matrix, as if time had turned back.
Five seconds later, the spoon looked immaculate.
Withdrawing his hand, he settled into the chair and retrieved the half eaten cookie, maintaining a marble face, hiding any trace of vanity.
But deep inside, the satisfaction was absolute. 'Brilliant.'
"By Merlin's beard!" Druella almost dropped her tea cup.
Rising from her seat, Bellatrix walked toward the table, took the spoon and examined it.
She turned it, looked at it against the light, and tapped the metal with her fingernail, looking for any hidden defect.
With shock painted on her face, she looked at Regulus, "... how did you do it?"
Finishing his cookie, Regulus answered: "They wanted to return."
"... What?"
"The tableware wished to be tableware again" he explained with simplicity. "I just helped them."
It was a ridiculously childish explanation. However, on the lips of a three year old boy, it was the only plausible answer.
Of course he knew the exact process, but there is a difference between executing magic and explaining it.
Wizards accepted miracles born of instinct and talent. But if at his age, besides performing the feat, he began to lecture on the theoretical principles behind it, he would cross the line that separates the prodigy from the dangerous anomaly.
Narcissa leaned toward her sister: "He seems too calm."
Andromeda nodded, with her gaze clouded by worry.
Walburga's face went through a rapid metamorphosis. The initial shock gave way to confusion and finally resulted in visible ecstasy.
But she forced herself to control herself. Composure above all.
Raising her tea cup with elegance, she took a slow sip: "Regulus possesses a particular intuition for Transfiguration."
"Particular?" Druella made a face. "Walburga, it is a miracle! He is barely three years old! Do you remember what Orion did at that age? He dedicated himself to smearing the house elves with jam."
Everyone's gazes converged again and again on Regulus, who continued eating his cookies.
Sirius kept his head down for the rest of the evening and Regulus was aware of the devastating blow that that had been to his pride.
After finishing tea, Druella left with her daughters, leaving the living room plunged in the silence that only the immediate family shared.
Finally, Walburga could not hold back anymore and hugged Regulus.
"My little genius!" She whispered in his ear excitedly: "I knew it! You are the future of the House of Black!"
From his position, over his mother's shoulder, Regulus caught sight of Sirius's figure.
He remained in the threshold of the living room, clinging to the doorframe.
It was difficult to imagine that a four year old child would have such a complex expression: shock, hurt, confusion and the unmistakable sting of jealousy.
'Trouble in sight.'
A child of that age lacked the maturity to understand it, Sirius only knew that his younger brother had stolen the spotlight.
Turning around, Sirius ran out.
Putting Regulus down, Walburga frowned: "Another of his tantrums. Ignore him, Regulus. You have done magnificently."
'He is only four years old', thought Regulus.
But he kept silent.
...
That same night, Orion entered Regulus's room.
He had just returned from the Ministry, his obligations as a member of the Wizengamot usually kept him until late hours of the early morning.
"They told me what you did today..." He sat down in front of his son. "An exquisite execution."
"How did you do it?"
Regulus took a few seconds to meditate on his answer and finally, opted for simplicity: "I don't know. Simply... I saw what had to be done."
"You saw it?" Orion scrutinized him with skepticism. It was an answer he had not expected.
"I saw the form that was under the worms. I just had to bring it back."
"..."
Orion stared at him fixedly.
This could be explained as talent. An unusual quality, certainly, but plausible.
Sirius's power was massive but chaotic, fueled by the instability of his emotions. In contrast, Regulus's performance leaned toward absolute control.
"An interesting explanation..." he finally declared. "But remember: discretion is a shield. Do not reveal all your cards before strangers. Genius attracts envy, and envy breeds fear."
"Cousin Bella seemed fascinated..." murmured Regulus, subtly diverting the conversation.
"Bellatrix..." Orion's face darkened. "She has a weakness for excessive power. And that figure who is ascending right now in the shadows shares that same thirst... Be careful of attracting his gaze."
Regulus nodded with seriousness.
He knew perfectly well who his father was referring to.
Tom Riddle... Voldemort.
________
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