Last night, a violent clash broke out in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. The entire Hall of Prophecy was destroyed, and the Daily Prophet is tracking the truth of what really happened.
At breakfast today, all the students noticed something unusual: the professors sitting at the staff table looked grim.
The reason was not trivial—Harry Potter's condition was dire. After being brought back, he had fallen into a deep, prolonged sleep.
This seemed to be a result of severe mental damage. After the clash of two consciousnesses, and ultimately because he had personally killed Sirius Black, Harry's mind had collapsed into chaos, leaving him completely drained.
"Regulus! Do you have any way to save him?"
Dumbledore's tone toward Regulus Black in the infirmary was almost that of a drowning man clutching at straws.
"You saw Sirius Black fall into the stone archway?"
Regulus ignored Dumbledore's plea and instead turned to question Remus Lupin.
"Yes! I saw it with my own eyes. Sirius Black fell straight through."
Remus's expression was troubled. Regulus immediately sensed there was more to the story, and in fact he already knew what had truly happened. By hiding in Harry Potter's shadow, Hassan-i-Sabbah had witnessed everything, and Regulus had long been informed.
But now he pretended ignorance, wanting to see how those present would react.
"What exactly happened? How did Sirius fall into the stone arch? You all know how dangerous it is—no one could just stumble into it by accident. Don't tell me it was a slip or a misstep."
Regulus pressed Lupin further. After all, in terms of family ties, Regulus was now the Black family's heir.
"Harry was confused at the time. He brushed against Sirius—it was an accident."
Remus refused to believe Harry would do such a thing. And indeed, Harry had not. It had been the fused monster inside him, though they shared the same body, making the situation difficult to explain.
From the outside, however, it appeared as though Harry Potter had pushed Sirius Black into the arch.
"I'm sorry, Headmaster. I cannot save him, and no one else can either. We don't even know who he really is anymore, so how could we save him?"
Regulus's anger was plain. He nearly clapped Dumbledore on the shoulder as he spoke.
His own brother had been killed by Dumbledore's godson. Who would ever believe it? And even if they did, no one would claim Harry Potter was guilty. He was still a child, they would say. He should be forgiven.
Regulus would never accept that. Blood demanded vengeance. As long as he was not caught, it was no crime.
With this conviction, Regulus would find his own way to settle the matter. That was what everyone in the room feared most—what scheme Regulus Black might devise to dispose of Harry Potter in some "legal" or "justified" manner.
They had hoped Regulus would try to save Harry, at least to show he would not harm him.
But now, even that assurance was gone. Clearly, Sirius's death had shaken Regulus deeply. Sirius had been the Black family's hope. Even when he had declared a same-sex marriage, Regulus had not been truly angry.
And so, while everyone else worried for Harry Potter, and fretted over Regulus's stance, Harry slept more soundly than anyone, and Regulus showed no sign of grieving for his brother at all.
"Professor Sybill Trelawney's child is Sirius's. Remus Lupin, I want you to become the child's guardian."
Regulus suddenly announced shocking news. When Professor Trelawney had become pregnant, many had assumed the father was Regulus. No one had expected his "tastes" to extend so widely.
But now the truth was revealed. The child had been conceived through a "pregnancy curse," cast upon Sirius Black. In other words, even if Sirius had not died in the Department of Mysteries, he would have perished after the child's birth.
Everyone felt deceived.
"Sybill Trelawney prophesied Sirius's death right in front of me."
With that, Regulus turned and left the infirmary. Lies could not be stretched too far; the more one said, the easier it was to be exposed. Better to drop just enough and let the others draw their own conclusions.
"So that's it. It seems Sirius Black could not have escaped this fate. Regulus has even prepared for his heir."
Dumbledore sank into a chair, exhausted in both body and spirit.
If Sirius's death had been foretold, then his chances of avoiding it were almost nonexistent.
According to Regulus's classification, Trelawney's prophecy was the kind that never failed.
The only exception would be if someone faked their death so convincingly that even Trelawney could not recall their existence. Then, the one destined to die might continue to live elsewhere under a new identity.
But Sirius had been forced through the archway. There was no hope left.
If death could not be avoided, then the manner of death mattered most. That was why Regulus fixated on the details. He was right to do so.
If it had been a pure accident, no one would bear responsibility. But if Harry Potter had pushed him, then the burden fell upon Harry. He would have to carry the consequences.
The infirmary was heavy with tension. What to do with Harry became the pressing issue. Who could stop Regulus's vengeance was another. Worry and dread filled the air.
But Regulus himself was not troubled. In the Room of Requirement, he was busy tutoring a graduating girl, pressing her against the desk for "revision."
For these young women about to graduate, shaping their new outlook on life was essential, and it began with their view of life itself.
Life was brief—barely a century. Youth lasted scarcely ten years. To preserve it required great cost: personal power on one hand, and magical resources on the other. All of it demanded wealth.
For girls of average talent and background, the only way to extend their youth was to cling to someone like Regulus Black, the "golden thigh."
So, they came willingly for tutoring. Especially this kind of laborious "one-on-one" between teacher and student—it was indispensable. Through such repeated "lessons," new values were naturally instilled, ones that would last a lifetime.
"Professor Black! I can't anymore, I'm exhausted! Let me rest a while!"
The girl collapsed onto the desk, too drained even to hold herself up, as if she had just been pulled from water.
"If standing lessons are too tiring, then sit for a while. Change positions and keep going. My tutoring is not meant to be easy."
Regulus himself was weary too, but he sat behind her, continuing to supervise her "studies." Perseverance was the key; stopping was not an option.
To learn until your waist ached and your legs cramped, to sweat until your heart raced—without such devotion, what right had you to speak of a "spirit of learning"?
Every girl who had come to the Room of Requirement left with gratitude for Regulus's personal instruction. Only such hands-on teaching, they believed, could bring such rewards.
By day he instructed the entire year, and by night he tutored individual girls. In this leisurely rhythm, Regulus awaited his chance for revenge. He was certain Dumbledore would eventually yield. After all, why oppose him for the sake of a half-dead boy?
Regulus was utterly confident in this.
A few months later, Professor Sybill Trelawney gave birth to a girl who looked very much like Sirius.
Regulus formally acknowledged her. Sybill Trelawney was accepted into the Black family as the mother of Sirius Black's daughter, while the other guardian was none other than Sirius's spouse, Remus Lupin.
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