Four months later, March 1964.
Walburga hosted a tea party, ostensibly a spring gathering for the women of the family, but in reality, it was Walburga's way of showing off her son's growth to her sisters.
Thirteen-year-old Bellatrix was the first to arrive. She wore a dark green velvet dress, her hair was combed meticulously, and her gaze was as critical as if she were looking for flaws in everyone.
"I heard you blew up the living room," she said, walking straight to Sirius's side.
Sirius held his head high: "I can control my magic now!"
Nine-year-old Andromeda and eight-year-old Narcissa followed their mother Druella inside. Andromeda gave Regulus a gentle smile, while Narcissa scrutinized the living room's new decorations.
The tea party began. The adults chatted about boring topics: personnel changes at the Ministry of Magic, the engagement of a daughter from some pure-blood family—the other party's blood wasn't pure enough, but wealth could compensate.
The children sat at a special small table with children's cutlery set before them. Sirius restlessly wanted to show off the new magic he had learned.
Meanwhile, Regulus was pondering a question: Why does the Transfiguration Spell require imagining a specific form? What would happen if I just wanted to change the state of matter without specifying a specific shape?
"Watch this." Sirius concentrated, staring at his silver spoon.
magic surged out.
The spoon began to bend. Good, an elegant curve.
But Sirius was too excited. He thought, just a bit more, it'll be even prettier!
More magic was output, and the spoon bent too far.
This was a mistake. He glanced at Bella to see if she had noticed. With that one glance, his control over the magic wavered.
The flow of magic was like a flood breaking a dam, rushing toward the entire set of cutlery.
Regulus suddenly felt a violent fluctuation in magic. He looked up to see all the silverware on the small table starting to change color. The silver-white faded, a fleshy pink emerged, and ring-like patterns appeared on the surfaces.
They turned into earthworms.
Twelve fat, fleshy-pink earthworms squirmed on the tablecloth.
The adults had long been drawn to the commotion. Walburga's face had turned from red to white.
Druella set down her teacup, her expression stiff.
Bella raised an eyebrow, covering her mouth in feigned surprise and letting out a theatrical "Ah."
Sirius was stunned. He looked at his creation, his lips trembling.
"I..." He opened his mouth but was too embarrassed to speak.
Walburga's hand reached for her wand. Regulus saw the fury in his mother's eyes—it wasn't just anger at the ruined tea party, but the shame of losing face in front of her sisters.
Trouble, Regulus thought. If she loses her temper, the tea party will end on a sour note, Sirius will be punished, and I'll have to listen to her complain for three days.
He stood up, walked to the small table, and looked down at the pile of squirming creatures.
I have to say, these earthworms were transformed quite completely, he commented inwardly.
Analyze the structure first. His brain automatically began to work. The Transfiguration Spell hadn't completely destroyed the material foundation; it had only reorganized the molecular arrangement.
The silver atoms were still there, and the memory metal effect should still be present. The key was to find the last stable form memory before the transformation... He raised his hand, palm down, hovering ten centimeters above the earthworms, and began to output magic.
Unlike the way ordinary Wizards output magic, Regulus found that his magic control could reach microscopic precision.
He didn't even need to rely on emotion-driven casting like conventional spells; instead, he relied on calculation. His brain could automatically construct different dimensional models, calculate the flow of magic, and adjust the output frequency.
It was as if there were a supercomputer in his head. He had once joked to himself that perhaps this was a Transmigrator's perk.
The next moment, silver light shone from within the earthworms. They stopped squirming and floated up one by one, arranging themselves into a perfect hexagon in mid-air.
A stable hexagon, he thought. This fits the optimal distribution of magic.
Bella leaned forward, her eyes widening.
Narcissa covered her mouth in surprise.
Andromeda whispered, "Merlin..."
The reversal of the transformation began. The earthworms contracted and stretched, and a silvery luster shone from within.
Ten seconds later, the cutlery was restored to its original state, floating in the air with silver light flowing over the surfaces.
Regulus's fingers moved slightly, and the cutlery followed the shortest path, avoiding all obstacles and landing back in their original positions in an orderly fashion.
Spoon, fork, knife, teacup, saucer, small plate—all perfectly in place.
Finally, there was that bent spoon. The crease was deep; the metal had suffered fatigue.
Regulus reached out his index finger and lightly touched the crease.
Rearranging the metal crystal structure required local heating to the recrystallization temperature, but without exceeding the melting point. magic simulated the thermal effect, its frequency adjusted to resonate with the silver atoms.
The crease began to disappear as the atoms returned to their places, as if time were flowing backward.
Five seconds later, the spoon was as perfect as new.
Regulus withdrew his hand and sat back in his seat. He picked up the biscuit he hadn't finished earlier, remaining expressionless throughout, not letting anyone see that he was showing off on purpose.
But inwardly, he was quite proud. As expected of me!
"Merlin's beard!" Druella blurted out, nearly dropping the teacup in her hand.
Bella stood up, walked to the small table, and picked up the spoon to examine it. She turned it over, held it up to the light, and tapped it with her fingernail, producing a crisp metallic sound.
She looked up at Regulus, her gaze full of shock: "You... how did you do that?"
Chewing on his biscuit, Regulus said vaguely, "They wanted to change back."
"What?"
"The cutlery wanted to look like cutlery again. I just helped a little."
This explanation was laughably childish, but coming from a three-year-old, it seemed normal instead.
Of course I know how I did it, Regulus thought, but I can do it, yet I can't explain it.
Wizards could do many incredible things based on intuition and talent, but at my age, if I could not only do it but even explain the principles, that would be far too much.
Narcissa whispered to Andromeda, "He looks so relaxed."
Andromeda nodded, a certain worry in her eyes.
Walburga's expression went through a rapid series of changes: shock, confusion, and then wild joy.
But she restrained herself; the mistress of the Black Family could not lose her composure in front of outsiders.
She simply picked up her teacup, took a sip, and said in as calm a voice as possible, "Regulus has a special intuition for Transfiguration."
Druella let out a somewhat forced dry laugh. "Special? Walburga, this is a miracle! He's only three! What was Orion doing at three? He was still smearing jam on the House-elf."
Everyone's gaze drifted toward Regulus from time to time, but he just quietly ate his biscuits as if nothing had happened.
Sirius kept his head down. Regulus glanced at him, knowing his pride had been wounded.
After the tea party ended, Druella left with her daughters, leaving only the family in the living room.
Walburga finally couldn't help herself. She picked up Regulus: "My genius!"
She said excitedly in her son's ear, "I knew it! The future of the Black Family!"
He looked over his mother's shoulder and saw Sirius.
Sirius stood at the living room door, gripping the doorframe. It was hard to imagine a four-year-old could have such a complex expression: shock, hurt, confusion, and a hint of jealousy?
Double the trouble, Regulus thought. A four-year-old doesn't understand what it means to do something out of necessity; he only knows he was upstaged by his younger brother.
Sirius turned and ran away, his footsteps thumping on the stairs.
Walburga set Regulus down and frowned. "He's throwing a tantrum again. Don't mind him, Regulus. You did the right thing."
He's only four, Regulus thought, but didn't say it. After all, he himself was only three.
That night, Orion knocked on Regulus's door. He had just returned home; as a member of the Wizengamot, he often worked late.
"I heard about what happened today," Orion said, sitting across from Regulus. "Exquisite skill."
"How did you do it?" he asked.
Regulus thought for three seconds and gave an answer: "I don't know. I just... saw how it should be done."
"Saw?" Orion was somewhat puzzled; this was an answer he hadn't expected.
"I saw the earthworms' original appearance, so I let them change back."
Orion stared at him, thoughtful. This could be explained by talent—rare, but not unheard of.
Sirius's power was great but uncontrolled, stemming from emotional instability.
In comparison, Regulus's performance leaned more toward control and precision.
"An interesting explanation," he finally said. "But remember, in front of others, do not show too much. Genius invites jealousy, and it also invites fear."
"Cousin Bella seemed very excited." Regulus steered the conversation toward Bellatrix.
"Bella..." Orion's brow furrowed. "She is obsessed with power, and that rising great figure is also obsessed with power. Be careful not to be targeted."
Regulus nodded. He naturally knew who that great figure was: Tom Riddle, the future Lord Voldemort.