Narcissa froze for a moment.
She did not believe Regulus truly cared about Abraxas Malfoy's health. In fact, she doubted Regulus wanted Abraxas to be healthy at all.
If it were any other young wizard, the question might have been genuine concern, or simple social courtesy. But Regulus?
By now, she understood all too well that Regulus was nothing like ordinary children. The depth and complexity of his thinking surpassed that of many seasoned elders.
His perspective was unconventional, even sharp-edged.
Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius's father, current head of the Malfoy family. A man cunning to the bone.
His health directly affected the Malfoy family's future direction.
"Just some minor issues," Narcissa answered carefully. "His spirits are good."
Her heart lay with the Blacks, and she cared deeply about Regulus. Still, the Malfoys were her future in-laws.
Regulus smiled. "Then I should prepare a proper gift."
He had already received an invitation to the Malfoy family's Christmas dinner. A personal invitation, separate from the Black family, which spoke either of importance or hidden intent.
They exchanged a few more words of harmless family chatter. Narcissa stood, reached out, and gently adjusted the collar of Regulus's robes before saying goodbye.
At the entrance to the girls' dormitory, she glanced back at him. Her gaze was complicated, but in the end it became a small nod.
Regulus remained on the sofa alone until the fire burned low.
He reviewed the conversation in his mind. The goals had been met. Deeper trust had been established, a channel for information sharing clarified, and his position conveyed without stating anything that could be seized upon.
Nothing dangerous had been said, yet everything that needed saying had been said.
Narcissa was sharp, pragmatic, and placed family above all else. She had her own bottom line.
In the original story, she had betrayed Voldemort for Draco.
Regulus decided to trust her a little more.
Narcissa would soon marry Lucius Malfoy, and for now, the Malfoy family was still under Abraxas's control.
That old Malfoy was no harmless figure. In the early days of cooperation with Voldemort, the Malfoys had even held the upper hand.
Later, Abraxas died suddenly of dragon pox , and Lucius took over. From that point on, the Malfoys became little more than Voldemort's purse.
Dragon pox, an incurable disease in the wizarding world. Wizards without real ability did not catch it.
Abraxas's death had been too sudden. The timing was far too convenient.
Regulus did not believe in coincidence. If there were nothing behind it, that would be harder to believe than the opposite.
He decided that after returning home for Christmas, he would mention it to Orion. If there was anything hidden behind the Malfoys' change, the Blacks needed to know early.
He thought of the tragedies in the original story. Sirius breaking completely with the family. Walburga dying without ever understanding her eldest son, and never knowing how her younger one died.
Narcissa and Bellatrix walking different paths, their sisterhood hollow in name only.
In the end, aside from Narcissa and the disowned Andromeda, not a single Black survived.
Too many misunderstandings. Too many information gaps. Everyone lost.
He would not repeat that path.
Besides, he was not exactly harmless either.
---
When Regulus pushed open the dormitory door, Cuthbert was sitting on his bed, polishing his wand. Hermes was writing at his desk. Alex was curled under his blankets, only half his head showing.
"Regulus," Cuthbert looked up at once. "Weren't you afraid it would turn into a fight today?"
He had been holding that question in all day. He could not understand why Regulus had stepped forward in that situation.
It did not match the Regulus he thought he knew, nor the upbringing he associated with the Black family.
Earlier that day, one wrong move and Regulus could have been targeted by everyone. No matter how capable he was, how could he handle being swarmed?
Regulus removed his outer robe and hung it up. He had no intention of answering directly.
He was not afraid of a real fight. The leaders of both houses had been present, and he had neutralized them instantly.
He had also kept his eye on the real troublemakers, Sirius, James Potter, and several of Slytherin's more poisonous types. He was confident he could suppress them.
And he did not fear being targeted by students at all.
Regulus turned back to Cuthbert. "What benefit would a fight give me?"
Cuthbert blinked. That was not what he had meant.
"House points lost, detention, possible injuries." Regulus sat on the edge of his bed. "Stopping the conflict lets me show capability, solidify my position, and leave a good impression on the professors. Which one sounds like the better deal?"
Cuthbert thought it through, then frowned. "But doesn't that make you look… too restrained? Some of the older students were talking in the common room. They said you were too…"
Regulus raised a brow slightly. He knew the original words had not been so polite.
"Let them talk." He did not care. "What I need is influence, not empty displays of toughness."
"After today, Lucretius Burke owes me a favor. Frank Longbottom has to consider whether he would have been punished if I hadn't stepped in."
"Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn both saw how I handled it. That's far more valuable than throwing punches with Gryffindor in a corridor."
Influence was abstract, but at certain moments, it could be turned into power. That required constant, subtle accumulation.
Cuthbert thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I get it. You're putting yourself in the position of the one who solves problems."
Heirs trained by pure-blood families were rarely fools. With a little guidance, Cuthbert reached the key point on his own.
"Good," Regulus said, offering rare praise. "So, Cuthbert, keep an eye out. Who disagrees with me the most? Who's complaining the loudest behind my back?"
Cuthbert's eyes lit up. "You're going to deal with them?"
"No." Regulus shook his head. "I want to know who's stupid."
"Real opponents won't jump out over something this trivial. Only fools turn hostile over a single Quidditch match."
"Just remember who they are. They might be useful later."
He looked at Hermes. "What about you? Notice anything today?"
Hermes set down his quill and turned halfway around. "Rabastan Lestrange. During the match, he was sitting behind us, watching you the entire time."
"After the game, he left the stands immediately, but didn't go back to the common room. I had Rosier follow him for a bit."
Alex poked his head out of the blankets and spoke softly. "He went to an abandoned potions classroom on the fourth floor. He was alone. Stayed about ten minutes before coming out."
Regulus narrowed his eyes. He immediately marked Rabastan as someone with hostile intent.
An annoyance more than a threat. Not worth his own time. This was exactly the sort of thing better handed to his roommates.
He turned to face them. "Can you handle it before Christmas?"
Hermes's mouth curved into a dark smile. "I have an idea…"
Regulus stopped participating after that. This was meant to be a small task for them, something to build cohesion.
He returned to his bed and organized the textbooks he would need the next day.
Cuthbert watched him, then asked again, "By the way, Regulus. What you did today, was it really just about showing influence? Nothing else?"
Regulus did not stop moving. "What do you mean?"
"I mean…" Cuthbert hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "You seemed very focused on controlling the situation."
"In the corridor, you stepped to the front immediately. You acted immediately. It didn't feel like a spur-of-the-moment decision."
Regulus turned and looked at him.
The Avery's heir was observant. His thinking was not yet deep, but he tried to look beneath the surface.
That was a good quality, especially among pure-blood families.
"Cuthbert," Regulus said slowly, "in Slytherin, there are two kinds of people."
"One waits for things to happen and reacts afterward. The other predicts what will happen and prepares in advance."
He went on, "Slytherin winning through fouls meant Gryffindor would cause trouble afterward. That was inevitable."
"If it's inevitable, I plan for it ahead of time, instead of scrambling once the conflict breaks out."
Cuthbert nodded, thoughtful. He understood that Regulus was describing the second type.
"As for why I had to stand at the very front," Regulus let a faint smile show. "Because position determines perspective."
"From the back, all you see is chaos. From the front, you see everyone's reactions. Who's impulsive, who's calm, who's observing quietly, who's fanning the flames."
He recalled the faces in the corridor that day.
Lucretius Burke's shock when his wrist was pinned.
The worry and concern in Narcissa's eyes.
Frank Longbottom's disbelief when his casting was disrupted.
James Potter and Sirius shouting in the crowd, ignored and powerless.
All of it was only visible from the front.