Regulus had barely steadied himself in the entrance hall of 12 Grimmauld Place when Walburga hurried over.
She wore a dark green robe embroidered with the Black family crest.
"My Regulus." She reached out and clasped his arm firmly. "You're finally home. Look at you, you've grown taller, and you look so well."
Her gaze swept over his immaculate robes and neatly curled hair, then settled on the family brooch at his chest. Pride nearly spilled from her eyes.
"I've read all of Hogwarts' letters. Slytherin Chief, top marks in every subject, and you even showed those blind fools what a Black is capable of. Well done."
Orion stood by the fireplace. His expression was as restrained as ever, but the satisfaction in his eyes was unmistakable.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on Regulus's shoulder, the weight of it steady and solid. "It's good to have you back."
Walburga tugged Regulus toward the sitting room, talking nonstop. "Kreacher's already prepared your room. I had him keep the vines outside the window. You used to stare at them for hours when you were little."
She paused, then shifted topics as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Where's Sirius? Didn't he come back with you?"
The cheerful atmosphere froze instantly. The portraits on the walls exchanged glances. A Victorian-era ancestress let out a faint sigh.
Regulus remained composed. "He isn't coming back."
"Not coming back?" Walburga's voice shot up. The smile vanished, replaced by anger and disappointment.
"That ungrateful child. I knew it. Ruined by those idiotic Gryffindors, refusing to come home for Christmas."
Her fists clenched. "One day, he'll pay for that rebellion."
Orion frowned slightly but did not argue. He only gave Regulus a look, signaling him not to mind it.
Regulus truly did not mind. He had expected this outcome.
Walburga's fury flared and faded just as quickly. After a few more sharp words about Sirius, her attention swung back to Regulus, her tone turning eager again.
"Forget that ungrateful boy. Tell me everything. What exactly have you been doing at school?"
"Professor Slughorn said your potions are better than most fifth-years. Is that true?"
"And that Travers. I heard he provoked you and ended up completely put in his place."
She already knew every detail through various channels, yet she insisted on hearing it directly from him.
Regulus followed her lead and gave a brief account of his potions classes and the conflict with Travers. He added nothing extra, simply stated the facts.
Walburga listened with shining eyes, clicking her tongue in satisfaction. "That's how it should be. A Black never tolerates being wronged. Those fools deserved to learn their place."
Dinner was set in the dining room. A deep red velvet tablecloth covered the long table. Silver cutlery gleamed coldly in the firelight.
Kreacher served dish after dish. Roast turkey, lamb chops, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie. All things Regulus had liked as a child.
Well, not the turkey. Turkey was dry, and he never cared for it.
Only three people sat at the table, yet it was laden as if to fill the absence Sirius left behind.
As she served Regulus more food, Walburga continued talking. "The glory of pure-blood families will rest on you in the end.
Look at the Malfoys. Lucius is decent enough, but he's still nowhere near your level.
As for the Lestranges, only Bella is worth mentioning. Rodolphus falls far short."
Regulus had long realized that her fervor was nothing like Bellatrix's.
Bellatrix's eyes held only devotion to Voldemort himself. To her, he was almost divine, someone she would give everything for.
Walburga's obsession, however, revolved entirely around the Black family's pure-blood legacy. Voldemort's rise merely happened to offer a means for the Blacks to reclaim their former height.
Regulus listened quietly, a hint of reflection stirring in his chest.
He remembered his magic awakening at ten months old, and the ecstasy on Walburga's face as she held him.
He remembered her sitting before the family tapestry, recounting the ancestors' achievements with near-reverence.
He remembered how, for all her rigidity, she would still tuck the blankets around him on cold nights.
If there were another path that could preserve or even elevate the Black family's legacy without relying on Voldemort, Walburga might not be an obstacle at all.
The condition was simple. He would have to achieve it and let her see it with her own eyes.
"What do you think of your classmates?" Walburga asked suddenly. There was anticipation in her gaze, as though she already knew the answer.
Regulus set down his cutlery, allowing a faint note of pride into his voice. "They're average."
Orion glanced up at him.
"Their talent varies widely, and most of them lack vision," Regulus continued. "They focus on coursework and house rivalries, unable to see beyond that."
His attention had never lingered on his peers. In this era, none of them surpassed him.
Walburga nodded vigorously. "Exactly. The half-bloods and Muggle-borns aren't worth mentioning, and even some pure-bloods live off old glory. None of them compare to you."
"Our Regulus is the finest heir the Black family has."
Orion set his wineglass down and spoke slowly. "At school, don't be overly showy."
His tone was calm, not reproachful, more reminder than reprimand. "Still, your performance hasn't disappointed us."
He looked toward the window, his voice lowering. "As for Sirius, keep an eye on him. If there's a chance, let him know the family still remembers him."
Walburga frowned, clearly wanting to object, but she said nothing. She simply cut into her turkey with extra force, venting her displeasure in silence.
Dinner ended amid Walburga's steady chatter and Orion's occasional remarks.
As Kreacher cleared the table, Orion said to Regulus, "Go get some rest, then come to my study."
Regulus nodded. He knew this was where the real family conversation would begin.
Walburga was suited to discussing school achievements and surface-level matters. Deeper topics were not for her.
In that regard, even Narcissa was a better conversational partner. At least she could offer useful information and level-headed advice.
Half an hour later, Regulus knocked on the door to Orion's study.
"Come in."
The room smelled of ink and old books. Behind a massive mahogany desk, Orion sat with an open copy of The Wizengamot Compendium of Magical Law in his hands.
When Regulus entered, Orion closed the book and leaned forward slightly, studying him closely.
"In just half a year, you've changed a great deal," Orion said, a trace of wonder in his voice.
"You stand straighter. Your presence is steadier. You don't look like an eleven-year-old anymore. You look like a wizard who can stand on his own."
Regulus stopped before the desk and waited, silent.
Orion tapped his fingers lightly against the wood. "I warned you early on to mind your limits at school and not display too much.
I wrote to you later as well. Sometimes holding back matters more than showing off."
Confusion showed in his eyes. "I believed you were mature enough for us to speak as equals, yet your actions at school suggest you didn't take that advice."
Regulus paused, thoughts moving quickly.
He understood Orion's point and had never forgotten it.
He truly had held back. What he showed was limited to magic control and spell proficiency, abilities a dedicated wizard might reach through training.
Precise transfiguration.
Silent wandless casting.
Strong defensive magic.
Impressive, yes, but still within the bounds of what a wizard should possess.
He had never revealed the true depth of star guided meditation. He had never exposed his research into micro-transfiguration. He had never shown the knowledge carried by a soul from another world.
And even so, that restrained display still exceeded everyone's expectations.
"I've already held back." Regulus raised his head and met Orion's gaze. His voice was calm, yet firm. "What I showed is what I consider a normal level."
Orion lifted a brow, clearly unconvinced.
"In the wizarding world, once personal power reaches a certain point, it can change many things," Regulus continued.
"A family's position, others' attitudes, and the resources available all depend directly on strength."
"I need people to see my value so I can gain more support. That benefits the Black family and myself."
He added, "And what I've shown is only a small part. My real strength has never been revealed."
Surprise flickered through Orion's eyes, followed by deep contemplation.
----
Stone plzzzzzzz