The clamor of the Slytherin welcome gathering had not yet fully subsided; the crowd was dispersing in twos and threes, discussing the brief duel in low voices.
Just as Regulus stepped out of the clearing in the center of the common room, preparing to return to his dormitory, a voice called out to him.
"Regulus."
It was Narcissa Black. She stood beside the archway leading to the girls' dormitories, unaccompanied by the usual cluster of senior girls, evidently waiting there specifically for him.
Several senior boys who had intended to approach Regulus, the newly minted Chief, to offer a few words saw this and tactfully halted in their tracks.
"Cousin Narcissa." Regulus paused and walked toward her. He was not surprised that Narcissa sought him out, only that it was sooner than he had anticipated.
Narcissa did not speak, signaling with her eyes for him to follow.
One after the other, they walked into a secluded stone corridor outside the common room; here there were no portraits, only cold stone walls and ghostly green torches burning every few paces.
After ensuring no one was around, Narcissa turned to face him, her expression a mixture of anxiety and solemnity.
From her sleeve, she produced an envelope sealed with black wax; impressed upon the wax was a hideous skull with a snake protruding from its mouth.
A symbol not yet public, but already tacitly understood within certain circles.
"A letter for you from Bella." Narcissa handed the letter over, her voice pitched very low. "She specifically instructed me to wait until you were confirmed as Chief before giving it to you."
Regulus took the letter; the black envelope was slightly cool to the touch, carrying a trace of unsettling magical residue.
He did not open it immediately, but looked at Narcissa.
Narcissa seemed to understand his unspoken question and sighed lightly. "The situation outside is becoming increasingly tense, Regulus."
Her voice carried a sense of fatigue. "That Lord... his influence is expanding rapidly. It is no longer just secret gatherings and petty skirmishes.
"Inside the Ministry of Magic, within the Wizengamot, and even on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, there are his people, or those who fear him.
"Some shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade have quietly changed owners, and several editors of dissenting tabloids have resigned to 'convalesce.'
"And two officials in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who publicly questioned the abuse of the Statute of Secrecy were found last month to have 'accidentally' triggered dangerous experimental magic in their homes; they are now in St. Mungo's with severe injuries."
She looked at Regulus. "He is manipulative and charismatic. With promises, threats, and the tangible display of immense power, he has woven a vast web.
"Among the pure-blood families, the Lestranges have long been at the core. Families like Nott, Carrow, and Yaxley have also clearly declared their allegiance. More are watching, weighing their options. Malfoy..."
She took a deep breath. "...Malfoy is among them as well."
Regulus understood her meaning.
Narcissa Black herself might not fully subscribe to Voldemort's brand of mad conquest and purging, but she was about to marry into the Malfoy family; her stance would be bound to the choices of Lucius Malfoy and the entire Malfoy line.
She had no choice.
This aligned roughly with the history he knew, and the details sketched an even clearer picture of the landscape before Voldemort's first rise to power.
"Thank you for telling me, Cousin," Regulus said calmly, tucking the letter into the inner pocket of his robes.
Narcissa looked at his impassive face, seemingly searching his eyes for even a trace of panic or fear, but she failed.
Finally, she only whispered, "Be careful of Bella; she has changed. And be careful of the contents of that letter. You are young, but that does not mean you can remain on the sidelines forever."
With that, she nodded slightly, turned, and walked quickly out of the stone corridor, the hem of her robes brushing against the stone floor with a faint rustle.
When he returned to the dormitory, Cuthbert, Hermes, and Alex had not yet come back.
Regulus drew the curtains of his four-poster, cast a Silencing Charm, and only then took out the black letter.
Breaking the wax seal, a faint scent drifted out, a mixture of expensive perfume and a deeper, underlying smell of something scorched.
The letter was on heavy parchment. The handwriting was wild and scrawled, the strokes so forceful they nearly pierced the paper, revealing the writer's agitated and unstable state of mind.
"To my dear cousin Regulus:
I am deeply gratified to hear that you have revealed your edge at Hogwarts and won the position of Slytherin Chief.
The noble blood of the Black family flows within you; indeed, you have not disappointed me, the family, or that Lord!
This is a great era, Regulus!
The old order is teetering; the rotten Ministry of Magic is held by cowards and Mudblood sympathizers, defiling our birthright and glory!
But the dawn is coming!
A true Lord has risen. He will lead us to cleanse this filthy world and rebuild an eternal order belonging to pure-blood wizards!
Power! Glory! Dominion! That is everything we deserve!
You have shown talent, but this is far from enough! You must grow faster, become stronger, more steadfast!
The games of Slytherin are just the beginning; the real battlefield is outside the castle!
That Lord needs loyal and powerful followers, and the Black family must occupy the most dazzling position in this new hall!
Do not be confused by weak emotions, do not be bound by hypocritical morality!
Power is truth, and truth belongs only to the victors!
I have reported your situation to that Lord, and he is very interested in you. A Black showing such extraordinary skill at such a young age... this has allowed him to see potential.
Remember this attention, Regulus. This is a supreme honor. It should be the driving force for your progress; do not fail it!
Be prepared at all times, cousin. When the summons comes, prove that you are worthy of the name Black, worthy of serving the Greater Cause!
Your loyal and expectant cousin,
Bellatrix Lestrange"
The letter was finished.
Regulus placed the parchment on his knees, his face expressionless.
The fanaticism, paranoia, and lust for violent power that nearly overflowed from between Bella's lines were even more intense than he had anticipated.
That was no longer the mindset of a simple follower, but a pathological devotion and worship.
The coercive undertone of the letter was also obvious; Bella, or rather Voldemort behind her, had not excluded him from their sights simply because he was only eleven years old.
Especially since the letter mentioned that Voldemort had already noticed him and was interested; this was by no means a good thing.
That often meant close scrutiny, harsh tests, and the destruction that might descend the moment one failed to meet expectations.
He had originally thought there would be at least a few years of a buffer period, during which he could accumulate power more leisurely and explore his own path.
Now it seemed that time was more pressing than he had imagined. Voldemort's web was tightening, and the Black family was already deeply ensnared within it.
A cold sense of irritation bred rapidly within his usually calm heart.
When Regulus walked out of the dormitory, there were still quite a few people in the common room.
He saw at a glance that Alger Travers, the fifth-year student he had publicly humiliated at the start of the term, was surrounded by several followers of similar pure-blood backgrounds.
They occupied the area around the fireplace, speaking at a volume that was neither loud nor soft, their eyes glancing occasionally toward the dormitory passage.
Seeing Regulus emerge, Travers deliberately raised his voice.
"...So I say, no matter how good the talent, he's ultimately just a little baby who needs looking after. What does a First-Year Chief count for?
"A true Slytherin looks at the long term, at actual influence. Relying on a bit of petty cleverness and luck, getting praised a few times... does he really think he's someone important?"
The followers beside him let out a few low, agreeing chuckles.
Several senior students who had not yet left, including some neutrals, looked over, wearing expressions of anticipation for a show.
They naturally knew of the previous grudge between Travers and Regulus, and understood that Travers was stepping forward now simply to pick a quarrel and humiliate the new Chief at the height of his popularity.
Such drama was nothing new in Slytherin.
Cuthbert and Alex were in the sofa area not far away; Cuthbert frowned, looking at Travers and then at Regulus.
Alex looked uneasy.
Even Hermes, who had been hiding in the corner, moved closer to Regulus, stopping about five meters away to watch silently.
"Travers," the sixth-year girl who had praised Regulus earlier spoke up in warning. "Enough. He is only a first year."
"First year?" Alger Travers sneered. He turned his head to finally look straight at Regulus, his face wearing undisguised malice and a triumphant sort of provocation.
"A first year who already knows how to use obscure tricks learned from who-knows-where to deal with seniors? A first year who can make certain people swoon and fawn over him?
"I am simply stating facts. Being young, one should know to keep a low profile and learn to respect one's seniors, rather than relying on a bit of talent to be arrogant.
"Do you really think being Slytherin Chief is some amazing achievement?"