Late Autumn, 1968. The beech tree in the courtyard of 12 Grimmauld Place had shed its very last leaf.
Regulus turned seven.
The past year of practicing the magical circulation technique had yielded significant results. His strength had increased, his constitution was noticeably robust, his magical perception was sharper, and his control was finer.
Meanwhile, Sirius was eight, and his rebellion had entered a new stage.
He was no longer content with mere backtalk; he had begun to resist systematically.
When Walburga made him recite the family tree, he would deliberately mispronounce the names. When she made him practice etiquette, he would transfigure teacups into frogs. When made to wear formal dress robes, he would tear the collars.
Once, during dinner, Sirius publicly questioned the theory of blood purity. Walburga was furious. Regulus had defused the tension, but Sirius viewed this as currying favor with their parents. The dialogue between the brothers grew increasingly sparse.
Sometimes Regulus would cross paths with Sirius in the hallway. The look his brother gave him was complex: containing the anger of betrayal, incomprehension, and a touch of disappointment.
He believed that by choosing the family, Regulus had betrayed him. In a way, he was right.
On the first weekend of December, Abraxas Malfoy visited as agreed. Everyone knew the real purpose: Malfoy represented Voldemort and was there to sound out the Black family's position.
Abraxas Malfoy was fifty-five years old. His face was well-preserved, and his long, silver-grey hair was tied neatly at the nape of his neck.
He wore dark green robes, the cuffs embroidered with intricate serpentine patterns in silver thread. In his hand, he held an ebony cane topped with a glowing green black opal.
"Walburga, you look radiant," he said, his tone silky and polished. "Orion, long time no see. Is work at the Wizengamot going well?"
Orion sat at the head of the table, his tone calm. "As always. What has kept Mr. Malfoy busy lately?"
Abraxas picked up his teacup and blew on it gently. "Contemplating the future. The future of the magical world, and our own future."
Lucius was absent. Regulus surmised he was preparing for a more important occasion—perhaps formally joining the Death Eaters or participating in Voldemort's core affairs on behalf of his family.
"That Lord holds the House of Black in high regard," Abraxas cut to the chase. "He says that among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the Black family bloodline is the oldest, the purest, and the most steadfast."
"Steadfast?" Orion asked.
"In maintaining tradition," Abraxas set down his teacup. "Nowadays, many families have wavered. The Potters openly fraternize with Muggle-borns. The Weasleys have become practically synonymous with blood traitors. The Longbottoms, though pure-blooded, are far too weak.
"Only the Black family remains consistent. That Lord believes such a family should occupy its rightful place in the new order."
Walburga leaned forward slightly. "Does that Lord... have a specific plan?"
Abraxas's voice raised in pitch. "Revival! To purge the weak elements from the Ministry, rebuild the authority of the Wizengamot, and standardize magical education.
"Most importantly, to establish the dominance of pure-blood wizards and return the magical world to its proper order."
"It sounds ambitious," Orion said.
"It is vision!" Abraxas corrected. "That Lord possesses not just ambition, but power, knowledge, and the determination to change reality.
"He has already gathered a group of like-minded individuals. The Lestranges, the Notts, the Carrows... they have all pledged their support."
"Support what?" Sirius interrupted suddenly.
Walburga frowned. "Sirius, when adults are speaking.."
"I am asking for the honest truth," Sirius stared intently at Abraxas. "Support him to do what? Kill people? Persecute Muggle-borns? Or turn everyone into his slaves?"
"Sirius!" Walburga's voice turned shrill.
But Abraxas raised a hand to stop her. He looked at Sirius, his eyes devoid of anger.
He said, "It is good for young people to have questions. That Lord seeks to establish not tyranny, but order.
"Under the new order, everyone will find their place. Pure-blood wizards are born to lead the magical world. Half-bloods and Muggle-borns can serve, and Muggles need to be managed."
"By what right?" Sirius stood up excitedly, shouting his rebuttal. "By what right do you decide who leads and who serves?"
Abraxas spoke as if it were a matter of course. "By right of power. By right of a thousand years of heritage. By the choice of magic itself. Pure-blood wizards possess stronger, more stable magic. This is a fact."
"I don't think—" Sirius tried to continue.
Abraxas interrupted him, his tone gentle. "What you think is not important. The rules by which the world operates will not change because of an eight-year-old child.
"When you grow up, when you have seen the chaos of the magical world with your own eyes, seen the fear and persecution Muggles inflict upon magic, and seen how pure-blood families are marginalized, perhaps you will understand."
"What if I never understand?" Sirius's eyes were full of stubborn defiance.
"Then you will have two choices," Abraxas smiled. "Accept that you do not understand but obey the rules, or be excluded by the rules."
It was a naked threat. Sirius's face went pale, but he gritted his teeth and did not retreat.
It was then that Regulus spoke.
"Mr. Malfoy is right," his voice was calm. "Order requires power to maintain. If pure-blood wizards truly possess stronger magical talent, then us leading the magical world would bring about a more stable and powerful society."
Everyone looked at him.
Walburga's eyes lit up. Orion's expression remained unchanged.
And Sirius... he stared at Regulus. His look went from shock to disbelief, and finally settled into a deep disappointment.
"You think so too?" Sirius's voice trembled slightly, as if asking for a final confirmation.
Regulus met his gaze. "I am stating facts. If the magical talent of pure-bloods is stronger, then this is logical."
Sirius wanted to argue further, his anger growing, but Walburga stood up and scolded sharply, "Sirius, go to your room. Now!"
Sirius looked at his mother, at his father, at his brother, and finally at Abraxas. He turned and left.
After Sirius left, the atmosphere in the drawing room actually relaxed.
Abraxas picked up his teacup again. "The future of the magical world is not just in Britain. Europe, America, Asia... that Lord's influence is expanding.
"Families that support him will have the opportunity to participate in the reconstruction of the global magical order. That means resources, knowledge, and power far beyond what the current Ministry can provide."
Regulus couldn't help but inwardly scoff. Voldemort was certainly ambitious, targeting the whole globe, yet he couldn't even handle Britain.
After a moment of silence, Orion said, "We need time to consider."
Abraxas stood up. "Of course. That Lord never forces anyone. There is a small gathering in Wiltshire next month where several like-minded families will exchange ideas. If the Black family is interested, I can extend an invitation."
Walburga looked at her husband, expectation in her eyes.
Orion nodded. "We will consider it."
After Malfoy left, Walburga immediately turned to Orion. "We must attend. Abraxas is right. This is an opportunity. The House of Black should occupy a leadership position in the new era—"
Orion interrupted her, his voice sounding tired. "Walburga, this requires caution. Everything sounds wonderful, but what is the cost?
"The 'weak elements' he wants to purge might include our friends, even family."
"Andromeda is no longer family," Walburga said coldly.
"And Sirius. If his rebellion continues..."
"Then let him go!" Walburga's voice suddenly rose. "The House of Black does not lack for a rebellious son. We have Regulus."
She looked at her second son, her eyes burning. "You spoke well today. Rational, logical, looking at the big picture. That is what an heir to the House of Black should look like."
Regulus lowered his head and did not respond.
In the attic laboratory, Regulus did not light a lamp. He sat in the darkness, replaying everything from the afternoon.
Abraxas's words revealed several key pieces of information: Voldemort's influence had already extended beyond Britain.
Voldemort was using the promise of a future order to tempt pure-blood families, promising power and resources.
Voldemort's methods included 'purging'—a word that sounded gentle, but Regulus knew it meant pure violence.
Except for himself, no one knew that Voldemort would ultimately fail. And yet, that inevitable result was driven by many coincidences.
He needed power.