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The fire in the Hog's Head Bar fireplace burned a deep, comforting red. The warm orange candlelight flickered against the grimy windows, and six sweating bottles of Butterbeer were lined up neatly on the heavily scarred wooden table in the corner.
Today, Uncle Alphard had temporarily called the HP core members to meet in Hogsmeade village.
Hehe, there's probably something highly valuable dropping again, Regulus thought, his gamer instincts tingling.
Regulus happily greeted everyone as they slipped into the booth, shedding their damp winter cloaks. He took the cold bottle and glass that Remus handed him.
"Ah—our resident Apparition master is finally here!" Alphard leaned back lazily in his creaky chair. A deeply relieved, proud smile appeared in his Black Family signature grey eyes. "I don't even know what to say anymore, Regulus—"
"You always manage to surprise me!" His aristocratic tone carried a natural, unmistakable pride.
"Thank you, Uncle Al," Regulus said with a low, easy laugh. He then turned, gesturing to the pale boy sitting quietly beside him. "Uncle Al, this is Severus Snape. You've briefly met before—Severus is incredibly talented in Potion making, and he's now a vital core member of our HP Alchemy team."
Severus slightly raised the corner of his mouth in greeting, a rare, genuine hint of pride showing on his usually serious little face.
"Sirius mentioned you in his letters," Alphard nodded gently at Severus, offering a respectful smile. "This is a brilliant tactical idea—advanced Potions and alchemy are inherently, deeply linked."
Al raised his frosty glass, took a long sip of Butterbeer, and scanned the dusty pub to ensure no one was eavesdropping.
"Look at me, I almost forgot—first-year students legally can't come to Hogsmeade yet," he shook his head with a sigh. He pulled a heavy, palm-sized leather pouch from his deep robe pocket and slapped it heavily on the table. "Calling you all here so suddenly, let's get down to the corporate business first—"
"This is exactly what Ethan and Cecily Frye asked me to securely bring for the twins: winter clothes, new boots, candy, Muggle pastries, and even canned cat food for Church..."
He pushed the surprisingly heavy package directly towards Regulus.
"These items alone could physically fill six massive Muggle suitcases. Luckily, there's an Undetectable Extension Charm woven into the leather lining, otherwise we'd have to deploy an entire owl army just for shipping logistics."
"Also, firmly keep this separate silk pouch for the twins," Alphard added, his tone lowering slightly. "Consider it my personal thank-you gift to the Frye Family."
Thank-you gift? Such a heavy, generous amount—thanking them for what exactly?
Could it logically be—
Regulus watched Uncle Al without blinking, his mind connecting the dots.
Noticing the intense, calculating anticipation in Regulus's grey eyes, Al merely raised an elegant eyebrow but stubbornly kept them guessing, offering no verbal explanation. He smoothly raised the cup in his hand:
"Also, a toast! Congratulations to our Regulus on successfully Apparating on his first try!"
"Congratulations!" "Cheers to the Half-Blood Prince and the King!"
With a crisp, ringing sound, six glass mugs clinked together over the table, and the tense atmosphere instantly became warm and lively.
The group chatted comfortably for a while longer. Alphard asked them about the fun things happening at Hogwarts recently, and the Little Wizards eagerly spoke one after another, filling him in on the faction's progress, making him nod frequently in approval.
"Target Chess? That's a brilliant tactical concept... That sounds much more fun than the dull curriculum when I was in school!" Al shook his head with a fond smile. "...You boys actually convinced Professor McGonagall to physically cooperate with you on it..."
"Because we possess Regulus," Sirius shrugged, flashing a charming grin.
"The Professors are actually quite easy to negotiate with if you frame the proposal correctly," Regulus rubbed his nose, hiding a CEO smirk.
"Hmm, I'm also reading the localized version of The Witcher recently. Maybe Poland will become a highly popular magical tourist destination this coming summer..."
Regulus chuckled into his Butterbeer.
After the group finally finished their drinks—
"Alright," Alphard put down his empty cup. His casual tone shifted, becoming distinctly sharper, revealing a secretive smile. "Let's move upstairs to a private room—I've brought something you'll all definitely be very interested in."
...
This secret meeting, as usual, was held in the "most luxurious" suite available at the Hog's Head Bar.
As soon as the heavy oak door was pushed open, the small, soot-stained fireplace and the stubby candles inside automatically lit up with a whoosh. The peeling, greasy stone walls reflected the warm firelight, creating a unique sense of relaxed, shadowed comfort.
Regulus immediately took out two polished crystal scrying glasses with sharp, pointed ends from his pocket. He carefully placed them on the exact diagonal corners of the small room. As soon as the glass touched the wooden floorboards, they began to rapidly spin like humming tops, emitting a steady, pulsing green glow.
"For operational safety," Regulus explained, dusting off his hands. "These are standard scrying glasses I've personally improved. Besides detecting suspicious people nearby, they can also actively detect suspicious magical items or listening devices—green means secure, red means trouble."
"Very thoughtful, and the aerodynamic shape design is good—" Alphard picked one up casually, examined the intricate runes carefully, and nodded approvingly. "The point can physically amplify unbalanced magical fluctuations, making it far more sensitive to anomalies."
Several Little Wizards gathered closely around to look at the spinning glass, clicking their tongues in wonder at the craftsmanship.
Alphard clapped his hands loudly, gesturing for everyone to take a seat at the round table—Aberforth had thoughtfully placed six mismatched chairs in this dusty room.
"I logically think you might be very curious exactly why I'm here today in person—" Alphard fumbled deep in his robe pocket for a while. "It's not just to play courier and deliver a heavy package for the Frye Family."
Under the eager, unblinking gaze of the Little Wizards, he slowly pulled out a heavy silver revolver from his pocket. They recognized the basic shape clearly, having test-fired similar Muggle weapons at the Frye Family's London estate.
But this specific weapon must be a highly specialized, customized handgun—the entire metal body was a gleaming silver-white, completely without any superfluous, tacky decoration. The hidden alchemical runic inscriptions etched meticulously everywhere across the barrel exuded a cold, incredibly elegant, lethal aura. It was terrifyingly beautiful, utterly unlike any crude firearm Regulus had ever seen in a movie or game.
"This is it," Al said proudly, placing the heavy handgun on the scarred wood and slowly sliding it to the center of the table. "I finally finished making it."
Regulus's gaze was completely, magnetically fixated on the gun. After Al gave a permissive, encouraging nod, the boy picked up the cold handgun and examined it carefully, turning the heavy metal over and over in his hands.
Its physical weight was surprisingly lighter than an ordinary Muggle handgun—but Regulus quickly discovered why. The spinning cylinder was completely empty. Regulus pushed the gun towards Sirius, who immediately reached out and grabbed it with eager hands.
"So bloody cool!" Sirius's index finger rested naturally on the trigger guard. He aimed and made a swift, virtual pull towards the dusty window. "It honestly feels better balanced than a wand!"
Then, he reluctantly handed the silver handgun to James, and it was quickly passed down the line in turn, each boy testing its weight.
Finally, the lethal weapon was passed back to Regulus.
"Uncle Al, where exactly are the bullets for this?" Regulus raised his head and looked at his uncle questioningly, his tactical mind already calculating ammo capacity.
"Right here." Alphard dramatically snapped his fingers. A heavy, glowing silver bullet appeared instantly at his fingertips as if by pure magic, once again attracting absolutely everyone's intense attention.
"Forged from a pure Mithril alloy, with heavily reinforced alchemical runes carved directly onto the casing," he explained, holding it up to the candlelight to show them the intricate rings of inscriptions at the flat bottom that looked like complex geometric patterns. "I've magically improved the internal magazine; through spatial expansion, the cylinder can physically hold 36 bullets without reloading. But I haven't managed to collect enough raw Mithril materials yet, so I've only successfully crafted 17 rounds so far."
"Uncle Al! That's absolutely amazing!" Regulus was so excited his CEO composure slipped; he could barely speak clearly. He looked at the silver bullet with sparkling, gamer-focused eyes. A vivid, lethal combat scene automatically appeared in his mind: wielding his hawthorn wand in his left hand and firing this silver gun with his right.
"This is also officially your next faction assignment." Al casually raised his chin and began distributing the heavy silver bullets to the Little Wizards present. "Exactly two rounds for each person. You can carefully add Extension Charms inside the hollow points, or alchemically improve them however you logically like to vastly increase their kinetic or magical power."
Severus reverently, carefully took the cold bullet. Even without a formal foundation in crafting complex alchemical items, his brilliant mind could clearly see the sheer wonder of the stabilizing alchemical runes shimmering on the outside of the casing. He was already deeply calculating whether it was chemically viable to add a concentrated dose of lethal Aconite poison to the hollow point.
"Thanks!" Judging by James's wild look, the Gryffindor almost wanted to put the bullet in his mouth and bite it to test its hardness.
"Thank you! Uncle Al!" The Little Wizards thanked him all at once, a chorus of voices. One or two of them showed dreamy, slightly silly smiles, imagining the firepower.
Although there was only one prototype gun for now, the decentralized production of customized bullets possessed massive tactical potential. Uncle Al was so incredibly good at effectively mobilizing his students' enthusiasm, it was a genuine shame he wasn't a formal teacher at Hogwarts.
"I'll temporarily entrust this specific prototype gun to Regulus's care. Once your customized bullets are successfully ready, we'll actively find a secure opportunity to test fire them," Alphard winked, tapping the cold silver handgun with his long finger.
"With Professor Dumbledore currently around, there shouldn't legally be much physical danger within the school grounds. You absolutely must not become a source of danger yourselves."
Remus nodded seriously, his amber eyes reflecting the firelight.
"Hehe, I logically bet if the weapon were given to me, Remus would definitely panic and worry about me shattering all the school windows," James nudged Remus playfully with his elbow, and Sirius showed an understanding, mischievous smile.
"No," Lupin said softly, shaking his head with a dry smile. "I'm vastly more worried about you accidentally shooting yourself in the foot first."
The Little Wizards burst into loud, tension-relieving laughter.
"Does this gun legally have a name?" Severus asked, turning the bullet over in his pale fingers. "I remember reading that significant Muggle guns all have specific names."
"Yes," Alphard nodded proudly, pointing a finger to the alphanumeric combination deeply engraved on the checkered grip. "MM01—this specific one is called 'Muggle's Magic'."
Muggle's Magic—what a flawlessly accurate, great name. Regulus carefully put the heavy handgun safely away in his expanded pocket.
"You boys need to be incredibly cautious with lethal things like this. Recently, the wider wizarding world... well, there are dark signs of political unrest. Regulus even wrote that someone is aggressively playing dangerous tricks and actively intimidating Little Wizards at school," Al's tone suddenly became incredibly serious, the fun uncle facade dropping. "I trust your tactical judgment. It's perfectly fine to take it for academic research, but absolutely do not use it indiscriminately in the corridors—"
"To be completely honest, I deeply hope you never actually have to pull the trigger."
The room was briefly, uncomfortably silent for a long moment.
"If you truly want peace, prepare for war," Sirius suddenly said in a low, cold voice, quoting Muggle history. His grey gaze turned directly to his younger brother.
Alphard gave the two boys a sharp, analyzing look but wisely said nothing.
"There's a second item—" Alphard broke the tension. He took out a small, flat box that looked incredibly expensive, crafted from tough Dragon hide, from his inner pocket and placed it squarely in the center of the wooden table.
The heavy lid popped open with a sharp "snap".
The antique shape, the steady, lethal sheen of the hidden blade—the specific item resting on the dark green velvet cushion once again made Regulus's heart violently skip a beat.
It was the Frye Family's heirloom "Assassin's Glove."
"Do you boys remember this?" Al looked around the table.
The Little Wizards nodded in unison, their eyes wide.
"Ethan finally decided to officially entrust me to actively try and repair its mechanisms," Al explained, leaning his elbows on the table. "This antique is incredibly important to their family's history... and it is indeed mathematically not a simple mechanism."
Regulus met Alphard's eager, challenging gaze.
"It's mathematically, definitely not just a mundane Muggle item. The strangest thing is, it physically looks perfectly intact—" Alphard shook his head in frustration. "But for some unknown magical reason, the blade simply can't be activated or deployed."
"How can you logically tell it's not a normal Muggle item?" Severus asked curiously, leaning closer.
"First, from the raw material itself—" Alphard tapped the Dragon hide box in front of him with his fingernail. "Considering the density of the alloy it's forged from, this isn't something Muggle metallurgy could logically achieve, let alone considering that it's an antique dating back at least a hundred years ago."
"Moreover, its internal crafting technique is mathematically not ordinary either," Alphard continued, his eyes gleaming with academic mystery. "Some incredibly small internal parts—I honestly thought only skilled Goblins possessed such precise methods—but there are absolutely no maker's marks left by any Goblin on this glove. Goblins absolutely always leave their prideful marks."
The Little Wizards present nodded seriously, indicating they were listening attentively to the lecture.
"The most amazing, frustrating thing is—it physically cannot be magically replicated or duplicated by any of my spells. There's probably some ancient, powerful protective charm woven onto it. What Regulus theorized before makes some logical sense—the Frye Family ancestors might really have been squibs or untrained Wizards."
Regulus reluctantly forced his gaze away from the lethal Assassin's Glove and saw that Alphard was looking directly at him with deep amusement.
"Uncle Al!" Regulus couldn't help but ask, his gamer greed flaring. "Did you just bring this highly valuable loot here just for us to look at?"
Alphard seemed about to say something serious, but in the end, he just smiled a highly strange, secretive smile—
Ethan Frye had joked with him that the lethal glove was an incredibly important heirloom left by the Frye Family ancestors. And if young Regulus wanted to take it to play with...
... ...