Regulus suddenly thought of Snape. His Patronus should have been hidden; otherwise, it wouldn't have been used to guide Harry Potter to find Gryffindor's sword.
That was to destroy Lord Voldemort's Horcruxes. If Snape's Patronus had been exposed early on, and if one of the main trio were caught, Snape would definitely be finished.
Orion changed the subject and continued, "Of course, if you really need to use it, then use it.
"You can't let yourself fall into danger just to hide your abilities. But one thing: when you use it, it's best to hide those mystical features."
He pointed at the Starling. "Make it look like an ordinary hawk. Its shape is very similar; just pull the wings in a bit, hide those starlights, and darken the eye color.
"An eagle is also good. It symbolizes wisdom and power, and it suits you well. Most people won't be able to tell the difference."
Regulus felt it out and found that it was indeed possible.
Although the form of the Patronus was fixed, some details could be adjusted, and the intensity of the light could be controlled. Making the Starling look like a silvery-white eagle was completely feasible.
"I understand," Regulus promised with a serious nod.
Orion breathed a sigh of relief; he believed in his son's judgment.
Regulus turned his attention back to the Starling. Looking at the silver bird, another thought flashed through his mind: he might never be an Animagus.
The animal form of an Animagus transformation is often identical or similar to the wizard's Patronus.
His Patronus was a Starling, a legendary magical creature, which was clearly impossible to transform into.
This meant that when he learned to be an Animagus later, he would either fail or turn into something else.
But on second thought, it wasn't really a pity.
Although being an Animagus was useful, it wasn't a necessity. With a Patronus, many of its functions could be replaced.
Moreover, a Patronus is a condensed form of pure positive energy, without the risk of being influenced by animal instincts like an Animagus.
Furthermore, practicing to be an Animagus required a lot of time, was highly uncertain, and relied too much on weather and luck; one slight mistake and you'd have to start all over again.
Besides, what was so good about turning into an animal? Even if he wanted to, why wouldn't he use Human Transfiguration?
Animagus? He could do without it!
Regulus gave his wand a light flick, and the Starling turned into silver specks of light and vanished, leaving a lingering warmth in the air like starlight.
He remembered the feelings of today: the emotion of standing on the cliff watching the sunset, the joy of magic flowing cheerfully with his emotions, and the resonance from the depths of his soul when summoning his Patronus.
These feelings wouldn't change his path; he would still calculate rationally, plan cautiously, and pursue power as his fundamental goal.
But some things were indeed different. Magic was not just a tool, but also a part of his life.
The world was worth appreciating and experiencing, and he himself was a living person who could be moved, who could yearn, and who could feel joy for beautiful things.
This was good.
They used a Portkey to return to Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
That old teapot lid carried them through spinning colors and sounds, finally landing in the Entrance Hall of the Black ancestral home, where Kreacher was already waiting with hot towels and tea.
"Welcome back, Master, young Master."
Orion took a towel to wipe his face and said to Regulus, "Tomorrow is the last day. We're going to Knockturn Alley to collect debts. Get some rest early today."
Regulus nodded and went upstairs to his room.
He stood by the window, looking at the night view of London. Compared to the grandeur of the Irish coast, the scenery here was much more ordinary: streets, houses, streetlights, and the occasional passing car.
Today's experience was like injecting the first splash of color into his originally black-and-white world.
Although it was just a faint stroke, it was enough to let him know that the world was vast and beautiful, and worth seeing.
And he had enough time and determination to reach a high enough place to see enough scenery…
On the last day of the Christmas holidays, with only a slight lingering of the festive atmosphere, Orion took Regulus to the entrance of Knockturn Alley.
Unlike the tidy brick wall of Diagon Alley, the entrance to Knockturn Alley was squeezed between two slanted buildings.
The walls were stained deep brown by unknown substances, and the air carried a mixture of rotting mold and a pungent potion smell.
Regulus followed his father into the alleyway, and the light dimmed instantly.
The walls on both sides of the alley were damp; even without touching them, one could feel a stickiness.
Several old oil lamps hung overhead, their flames flickering with a ghastly green light inside the glass covers, casting long, distorted shadows.
The ground beneath was uneven, with puddles of varying depths, the water's surface covered with a thin, colorful film like oil.
After walking about twenty steps, the passage opened up, and Knockturn Alley appeared before them.
This place was a completely different world from Diagon Alley, as if one had suddenly come from a place of civilization to a land of chaos.
The buildings on both sides were crooked and squeezed together, their walls covered in dark moss.
Most of the windows were boarded up, and behind the few glass windows hung heavy black curtains, making it impossible to see what was inside.
The alley was very narrow, barely wide enough for two carriages to pass side by side, and the road was cluttered with various items.
Broken wooden crates, scattered sacks, rusted iron drums, and even a few skeletons of unrecognizable animals.
Pedestrians were sparse here, each wrapped in dark robes with hoods pulled low, walking hurriedly and sticking to the walls to avoid eye contact with anyone.
Regulus's sensory talent became exceptionally sensitive in this environment; he could feel the magical fluctuations emanating from the surrounding shops and pedestrians.
Most were murky and chaotic, carrying fragments of negative emotions.
He felt it was a bit absurd.
Only by truly standing in this alley could one appreciate the dark side of the magical world.
Descriptions of Dark Arts transactions and illegal goods circulation were far too mild; every brick, every inch of air, and every corner here was soaked in an atmosphere of chaos and depravity.
The only rule was power: the strong spoke, and the weak vanished.
If someone died here, their body might be dragged away immediately and fully utilized.
No one would ask, and no one would care, just like a rabbit being eaten by a fox in the forest—it was simply the law of nature.
But what Regulus truly found absurd was that all of this was illegal under British magical law.
Everyone knew Knockturn Alley was illegal; the Ministry of Magic knew, and the Wizengamot knew.
Even Muggle families with young wizards might have heard from their children that there was a terrible place next to Diagon Alley.
Yet Knockturn Alley still existed, and had for hundreds of years.
The Ministry of Magic, or rather the upper echelons of the wizarding world, almost had an attitude of tacit approval.
While claiming the supremacy of the law and the sanctity of order, they left such a large lawless area right next to the largest commercial district.
The legal statutes were written clearly, stating what could and couldn't be done, yet Knockturn Alley was right there, like an open secret, a lie that everyone knew but no one exposed.
Blatant and unhidden.
A thought flashed through Regulus's mind: this was probably politics.
The meaning of the law seemed to be merely a declaration that everything here was illegal, but that was all.
A declaration was just a declaration; enforcement was another matter.
Regulus, of course, understood that Knockturn Alley existed because it had value.
Pure-blood families needed this place to handle some shady business, and Dark wizards needed it to obtain resources and intelligence.
The Ministry of Magic needed such a place to centrally manage people and things that were difficult to control, stuffing them all into Knockturn Alley so they were out of sight and out of mind.
One could only say that Britain had its own unique national conditions.
But none of this had anything to do with Regulus.
As a wizard and the heir to the House of Black, he would also need Knockturn Alley to exist.
Or rather, everyone needed it to exist.
Pure-bloods needed it, half-bloods needed it, the Ministry of Magic needed it, and even those White wizards who championed justice might need it.
There had to be a place to handle those inconvenient matters.
This was another ecology of the wizarding world, the other side of order.
Light and darkness were never clearly demarcated; more often, they were interdependent and permeated each other.
Knockturn Alley was the shadow of Diagon Alley; without the shadow, the existence of light would be meaningless.
In short, if it exists, there must be a reason for it.
At this moment, Orion stopped and turned his head, whispering to Regulus, "In here, only use your eyes to look. Don't speak, and certainly don't touch anything.
Everything you see may be cursed. Every patch of ground you walk on may be etched with traps. Everyone you meet may be harboring malice."
He emphasized in a calm tone, "Knockturn Alley is the reverse side of order. There is only one rule here: survive. Everything else is nonsense."
Regulus nodded.
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