When he left the small garden, the sky had already darkened, and lights were flicking on in the castle windows one by one. Dinner time was approaching.
Regulus quickened his pace, but encountered someone at the entrance to the greenhouse area.
It was a Hufflepuff girl, a second or third year, with light brown hair tied in a loose bun. She was crouching in front of a row of flowerpots, carefully loosening the soil for a dittany plant with wilted leaves.
"You'll damage the lateral roots doing that," Regulus said instinctively, stopping in his tracks.
The girl looked up and blinked. "What?"
"The angle of your trowel is too vertical." Regulus pointed at the small iron trowel in her hand. "Dittany roots spread out horizontally, they don't grow deep down. Digging straight down will cut the lateral roots."
The girl looked down, realization dawning on her face. "No wonder this one hasn't been growing well... Thank you."
She adjusted the angle, inserting the trowel diagonally into the soil and gently loosening the earth around it.
"Are you a Slytherin first-year?" she asked as she worked. "It's rare to see a Slytherin know so much about Herbology."
"Regulus Black, first year," he introduced himself simply.
"I'm Eleanor Bones, third year." The girl smiled, revealing a canine tooth. "The Bones family, you should know it."
She continued, her tone carrying an undisguised, friendly curiosity. "I know you. The second Black at Hogwarts.
Before you enrolled, we, well, I mean, quite a few people privately speculated whether you would enter Slytherin like every Black for the past five hundred years.
Or if you would choose Gryffindor like your brother."
Regulus raised an eyebrow in slight surprise.
He knew that almost all students from pure-blood families at Hogwarts, and even many professors, were paying attention to his Sorting result.
After all, Sirius's choice wasn't just personal rebellion; it broke the unbreakable tradition of the Black family that had stood for five hundred years.
Five hundred years, what a long span of time. Enough to make 'Black equals Slytherin' an unspoken consensus in the wizarding world.
And in this critical period where undercurrents were surging and many ancient families were re-choosing their stances, the destination of the Black family heir could even be interpreted by the outside world as some kind of family signal.
Regulus was well aware of all this, and knew that people wouldn't stop talking.
Even in the original story, these discussions would continue until the Black family was nearly extinct.
But for someone like Eleanor Bones to mention it to his face with such near-frankness was a first since his enrollment.
This little witch from the Bones family was much more direct than any other pure-blood he had encountered.
And the Bones family, Regulus certainly knew of them.
The Bones family was also one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Their stance was relatively moderate, and many family members held positions in the Ministry of Magic.
This Eleanor was likely a relative of Amelia Bones, the future Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Regulus didn't shy away from her words. His grey eyes looked at her calmly. "As it turns out, the answer is Slytherin. Those speculations can stop."
Eleanor Bones blinked, then laughed. "Indeed. And it looks like you're adapting well there."
Regulus didn't continue the topic. He pointed to the flowerpot on the ground and said, "Dittany likes loose soil but dislikes being moved frequently.
You'd better add a layer of crushed pottery shards to the bottom of the pot to improve drainage. The soil in this pot retains too much water right now; the roots are prone to rot."
Eleanor looked at him in surprise. "How do you know the soil retains too much water?"
"The edges of the leaves are slightly curled, and the color is a darkish green, which are signs of poor root respiration. Also, when you were loosening the soil just now, the dirt was clumping together, indicating excessive moisture content."
"Merlin, you're right." Eleanor stood up and dusted the soil off her hands. "I've been using the standard potting soil formula, but maybe this batch of leaf mold is of poor quality.
Thank you for your advice, Mr. Black."
Regulus nodded slightly.
Under the dimming sky, the two spent five minutes exchanging soil-loosening techniques.
Eleanor taught him how to feel the soil's compactness with his fingers, as well as cultivation methods for several uncommon magical plants.
In exchange, Regulus shared a few simple soil-testing spells from garden care magic, very practical little tricks.
Eleanor packed up her tools. "Time to go to the Great Hall. Walk together?"
"Sure."
They walked side by side toward the castle. On the way, they met several Hufflepuff students who looked surprised to see Eleanor walking with a Slytherin, but no one said anything.
Upon entering the Great Hall, Eleanor waved goodbye. "Goodbye, Mr. Black."
"Goodbye, Miss Bones."
Regulus walked to the Slytherin table. As he sat down, Avery leaned in. "What were you talking about with the Bones girl?"
"Herbology," Regulus answered simply, starting to put roast meat onto his plate. The small experiment just now had consumed a lot of energy; he needed to replenish.
"The Bones family is alright, not too bad," Avery commented. "But that Amelia in their family is too serious at the Ministry. My father doesn't like her."
"Maybe she doesn't like Mr. Avery either," Regulus said.
Cuthbert pondered for a moment, then shrugged. "You're right."
Just past midnight, Regulus was startled awake from his meditation by a fluctuation of magic.
He instantly retracted all his magic, slowed his breathing, kept his body still, and opened his eyes just a sliver.
Opposite him, the bed curtains of Hermes Mulciber were gently lifted.
A black-robed figure slipped out silently, making no sound as he landed.
Hermes straightened up in the darkness, seeming to confirm something. He even walked to each bed and paused for a moment, including Regulus's.
A minute later, Hermes walked out of the dormitory door.
Regulus waited for three minutes, then slowly sat up.
He got out of bed and walked to Hermes's bunk. The curtains were still left open a crack. Regulus didn't touch anything, merely scanning with his magical perception.
The bed was tidy. Under the pillow was a book with a dark red leather cover and no title. The book had protective charms on it; forcible probing would trigger an alarm.
On the bedside table was an empty glass bottle with a tiny amount of black liquid residue at the bottom. Regulus couldn't identify it, but it wasn't a standard potion, at least.
Hermes's schoolbag was by the windowsill. The zipper wasn't fully closed, revealing a corner of parchment.
There were no protective charms on it. Regulus used a magical probe to gently push it open.
It was a map, hand-drawn with rough lines but clear labels.
In the center was the main body of Hogwarts castle. Several areas were circled. Next to the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor was written "Explored, no yield."
The abandoned classroom area on the west side of the dungeons was marked "Protected, needs breaking."
And a room below the Astronomy Tower was marked "Suspected entrance, to be verified."
Below the Astronomy Tower? That should be the outer wall of the castle; there shouldn't be any rooms there.
Unless it was a secret chamber, or a secret passage.
Regulus retracted his probe and returned to his own bed.
What was Hermes Mulciber looking for?
Or rather, what was he looking for for whom?
An hour later, at 1:14 AM, the door opened gently again.
Hermes returned. His steps were heavier than when he left. There were fresh scorch marks on the hem of his robes, and a long, thin red mark on the back of his left hand, as if slashed by something sharp.
He paused at the door for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping over the three beds.
Confirming no unusual movement, Hermes walked to his own bed. As he took off his outer robe, Regulus smelled a faint scent of sulfur.
It was the residue of magical fire, or some kind of alchemical reaction.
Hermes drew his curtains. Rustling sounds of changing clothes came from within, and then everything returned to silence.
Regulus opened his eyes, staring into the darkness of the canopy above.
First year, eleven years old, and already dabbling in dangerous secrets.
The Mulciber family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight but held a marginal position.
For generations, Mulciber had dealt in rare magical items, effectively acting as intermediaries for the smuggling and collection of Dark Magic artifacts.
They excelled at walking the edge of the law, maintaining secret collaborations with multiple shops in Knockturn Alley. They didn't seek political power, focusing instead on collecting forbidden knowledge and dangerous magical items.
They didn't publicly support Voldemort, but privately supplied Death Eaters with resources.
Was Hermes's behavior a personal interest or a family mission?
If it was the latter, then what he was looking for likely had to do with the coming war.
Outside the window came the hoot of an owl, distant and indistinct. Regulus didn't dwell on it too much; he decided to keep a close watch.
He closed his eyes again and began a new round of magical cycling.
The geometric model of Orion lit up in his mind, and starlight-like magic flowed along the calculated trajectory.