About ten minutes later, Narcissa arrived as well.
She didn't sit down, but stood by the sofa, looking down at Regulus. The fireplace's light cast a warm glow over her blonde hair, but her gaze was serious.
"You frightened me today," Narcissa said softly.
"My apologies?" Regulus looked up, knowing what Narcissa meant.
Cousin Narcissa valued family ties far more than Bella did. She had reminded him more than once to be mindful of moderation when showcasing himself.
Before he had even started school, she had often shared her own experiences with him. Regulus could feel the care from his relative, so he was always more sincere with Narcissa.
However, Regulus had his own considerations; he wasn't truly a child.
"It's not a bad thing." Narcissa sat down beside him with elegant movements.
"I just… suddenly realized you've grown up. Uncle Orion wrote to me, asking me to keep an eye on you at school, and Aunt Walburga mentioned it too, but now it seems you don't need anyone watching over you."
Regulus didn't speak, but his gaze clearly softened.
Narcissa continued, "The way you handled things today was very mature, but also very dangerous. You've put yourself out in the open; more people will be watching you."
"Let them watch," Regulus said firmly. This was a deliberate display to reassure Narcissa; in truth, he didn't care at all.
He thought more clearly in his mind: as a first-year, he did need to act within the rules, consider the professors' gazes, and maintain the facade of an outstanding student.
But essentially, he didn't need to look up to those upper-year students.
It wasn't arrogance, but based on objective facts. The things filling their heads—so-called house politics and pure-blood relations—were laughably shallow in his eyes.
In another two years, when he was in his third year, what level would his magic control precision reach? How many constellations would his astral meditation expand to? How many spells would he master? How powerful would his magic become?
At that time, the objects of his comparison would no longer be Hogwarts students, but the so-called elite Aurors of the Ministry of Magic, or even certain professors.
After all, Lord Voldemort could create a Horcrux by his fifth year; how was he any worse?
His gaze had never lingered on mediocre people.
"Cousin Narcissa," Regulus began, his voice lower than before, "you're worried about me being targeted, but look at it from another perspective—letting them see my position clearly might actually be safer."
Narcissa frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"The heir of the Black family will have to take a stand sooner or later. Instead of letting others guess, probe, and scheme in the shadows, it's better if I set the tone myself. It's better than hiding things."
He paused for a moment to observe Narcissa's reaction. Seeing that she didn't object, he continued.
"As for choosing a side… Cousin, let's talk about that." Regulus leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice even further.
"On Cousin Bella's side, and Lord Voldemort's side, I certainly know they are recruiting people. I also understand the Black family's attitude."
Narcissa didn't interject, signaling him to continue with her eyes.
"But I have to ask," Regulus looked directly into her eyes, "does the Black family, or rather the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families, really only have two choices?"
Narcissa's breath hitched slightly. Regulus hadn't said it all, but she knew the two choices he meant were swearing fealty to Lord Voldemort or joining Dumbledore.
"A thousand-year-old wizarding family that has endured for a millennium—did they do so by betting correctly on every coup? Shouldn't it be that no matter who comes to power, the family remains standing?"
At this point, he added silently in his heart that the Black family in the original story was the counterexample—blindly betting on Lord Voldemort, the entire family nearly died out, leaving only a few scattered remnants.
But that was because of Walburga's fanaticism, Sirius's rebellion, and a series of overlapping wrong decisions.
If he, Regulus, was here, things shouldn't turn out that way.
Narcissa was silent for a long time, the fireplace light flickering across her face.
"Regulus," her voice was equally soft, "you know that Bella is currently… very much trusted by That Lord."
Regulus leaned back into the sofa, his gaze falling on the dancing flames in the fireplace, his face full of composure.
After a few seconds, he turned his gaze back to Narcissa.
"Cousin," Regulus asked in return, "does the Black family need that trust?"
Narcissa suddenly paused; this was a question she had never considered.
Does the Black family not need that trust?
That was Lord Voldemort!
But on second thought, just as Regulus said, does a thousand-year-old family necessarily have to lean to one side?
Why, besides Regulus, were all the pure-blood families discussing which side to join?
Whose problem was this, exactly?!
Regulus continued, his tone gradually leveling out, "Cousin Bella is a member of the Black family. The trust she receives is naturally a resource for the family.
But there's a lot of nuance in how that resource should be used, by whom, and when."
He looked at Narcissa peacefully, seeing her somewhat dazed. "Investment is about long-term returns. Risking one's entire net worth for a short-term surge is the way of a gambler, not the way of a wizarding family with a thousand-year legacy."
Regulus was extremely subtly hinting that Lord Voldemort wouldn't last, but he could only say this much and no more.
Narcissa's pupils contracted slightly; she understood part of it and thought of some things she had never noticed before.
Bella was, of course, wholeheartedly devoted to That Lord's great cause; she herself was her everything. But to the Blacks, Bella was just one member of the family.
And Regulus was talking about the long term and legacy.
"You mean…" Narcissa had to become cautious now. "The Black family shouldn't rely on only one line?"
"I'm saying," Regulus's voice was gentle, "if a tree has only one deep root and the others have withered, what will it rely on to stay steady when the great winds come?"
He looked at Narcissa, his grey eyes appearing exceptionally deep in the firelight. "Cousin, the Black family is not a newly sprouted seedling. We have many roots."
"That Lord needs power," Regulus returned to the original topic but from a different angle. "And there are many kinds of power.
Fanatical loyalty is one kind of power, a calm mind is another. Warriors who can charge onto the battlefield are one kind of power, while those who can coordinate resources and stabilize the rear are an even rarer kind."
He continued, "Cousin Bella has already proven that the Black family can provide the first kind. So, what if we can also provide the second?"
Narcissa took a deep breath. Looking at her eleven-year-old cousin before her, she suddenly felt a shiver—a shock from realizing the depth of his thinking far exceeded her expectations.
Throughout the entire conversation, he hadn't said a single word about not being loyal; he was even affirming That Lord's needs.
But the meaning behind his words was crystal clear: the Black family would join as partners, or even strategic resource providers, rather than mere followers.
This was clearly more brilliant, but also more difficult.
"These words…" Narcissa's voice was a bit dry. "Have you spoken to Uncle Orion about this?"
Regulus shook his head. "Father will understand."
He thought of the family ring Orion had given him, the key to the library, and his father's reminder to be restrained.
Orion Black was never a fanatical believer; he was a pragmatic family helmsman.
Sending his son to Slytherin and tacitly allowing or even supporting Regulus's independence were all paving the way for this goal—
To ensure that in the coming storm, even if the Black family boarded the ship, they would sit in a cabin with a window rather than being locked in the hold.
Narcissa nodded slowly. She understood—not just Regulus's meaning, but also why he had acted as he did today. He was demonstrating that second kind of power.
Calm, restrained, capable of controlling the situation and weighing pros and cons. This was for all observers to see, including That Lord who might be watching from afar.
"I understand." Narcissa's tone was grave. "So you need information—information that will allow the family to make the correct judgments."
"Yes." Regulus leaned forward slightly, adopting a more trusting posture.
"Cousin, what we lack most right now isn't a stance, but vision. Only knowing the news from Bella's side is like trying to see the path with only one eye, and that eye is skewed."
Narcissa immediately thought of Bella's letters filled with fanatical rhetoric and her increasingly extreme words and deeds. If the Black family only listened to Bella's voice, it would be terrible.
"I will keep an eye out," Narcissa gave a solemn promise. "Not just on the Malfoy family, but also the Lestrange family, the movements of other families, and rumors within the Ministry of Magic.
I will tell you anything of value."
"Through secure means," Regulus added, "or speak in person."
He couldn't risk sensitive information falling onto paper. Lord Voldemort's desire for control was extremely strong; who knew what means he would use for monitoring?
Narcissa nodded. "All right."
With the core of the conversation explained, Regulus relaxed, and his tone became more casual. "Cousin, is Elder Mr. Malfoy's health doing well?"
He asked naturally, like a junior caring for an elder.
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