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In the deep autumn of 1968, the beech tree in the courtyard of Number 12, Grimmauld Place shed its very last leaf.
Regulus was seven years old.
The magical guidance cycle exercises of the past year had shown significant results; his strength had grown, his physique had noticeably improved, his perception of magic was sharper, and his control more precise.
Meanwhile, Sirius was eight years old, and his rebellion having entered a new phase.
He was no longer satisfied with merely talking back. He had begun to resist in a deliberate and systematic way.
When Walburga ordered him to memories the family tree, he would deliberately recite the names incorrectly. When she forced him to practice etiquette, he would turn the teacup into a frog. When she demanded that he wear formal robes, he would tear at the collars in open defiance.
Once, during dinner, Sirius openly questioned the doctrine of pure-blood. Walburga flew into a rage, and while Regulus hurried to smooth things over, Sirius saw it only as his brother currying favor with their parents. From that moment on, the brothers spoke less and less, the distance between them growing with each passing day.
Sometimes Regulus would run into Sirius in the hallway, and the look in his brother's eyes was painfully complicated. There was anger at what he saw as betrayal, confusion he could not put into words, and beneath it all, a faint trace of disappointment that cut deeper than either of them cared to admit.
He thinks I chose the family, which means I betrayed him. And in some sense, he is right.
On the first weekend of December, Malfoy arrived as promised. Everyone knew the real purpose: Malfoy was here on behalf of Voldemort, to feel out the House of Black's stance.
Abraxas Malfoy was fifty-five, his features carefully maintained, his silver-grey hair tied neatly behind his head.
He wore a dark green robe, the cuffs embroidered with intricate silver serpentine patterns. In his hand was an ebony walking stick, its head set with a dimly glowing green-black opal.
"Walburga, you look well," he said, his voice smooth and polished. "Orion, it has been a long time. How goes your work with the Wizengamot?"
Orion sat at the head of the table, his tone calm. "As always. And what has Mr. Malfoy been occupied with lately?"
Abraxas picked up his teacup and gently blew on it. "Thinking about the futureāthe future of the wizarding world, and our future."
Lucius had not come. Regulus guessed that he was likely preparing for something more important: a formal entry into the Death Eaters or acting for the family in Voldemort's inner affairs.
"That Lord holds the House of Black in very high regard," Abraxas said, moving straight to the point. "He says that among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the Blacks possess the oldest bloodline, the purest blood, and the firmest convictions."
"Firm?" Orion asked.
"In the preservation of tradition," Abraxas said, setting down his teacup. "Many families are wavering now. The Potters openly associate with Muggle-borns, the Weasleys have all but become synonymous with blood traitors, and while the Longbottoms are pure blood, they are far too weak.
Only the House of Black has remained unwavering. That great Lord believes such a family should occupy its rightful place in the new order."
Walburga leaned forward slightly. "That Lordā¦ does he have any concrete plans?"
Abraxas's voice grew more animated. "Revival!! Cleansing the Ministry of Magic of its weak elements. Rebuilding the authority of the Wizengamot. Bringing magical education back under proper regulation.
Most importantly, establishing the dominance of pure-blood wizards, and allowing the wizarding world to return to the order it was always meant to have."
"Sounds very ambitious," Orion said.
"It is vision!" Abraxas corrected him. "That Lord possesses not merely ambition, but power, knowledge, and the resolve to reshape reality.
He has already gathered a group of like-minded supporters. The Lestranges, the Notts, the Carrowsā¦ they all have declared their support."
"Support what, exactly?" Sirius suddenly cut in.
Walburga frowned. "Sirius, when adults are speakingā"
"I am asking a real question," Sirius said, staring hard at Abraxas. "What are they supporting him to do? Kill people? Persecute Muggle-borns? Or turn everyone into his slaves?"
"Sirius!" Walburga's voice turned sharp.
But Abraxas raised a hand to stop her. He looked at Sirius, and there was not a trace of anger in his eyes.
"Young people having questions is a good thing," he said. "What that Lord seeks to establish is not tyranny, but order.
Under the new order, everyone will find their proper place. Pure-blood wizards naturally meant to lead the wizarding world; Half-bloods and Muggle-borns may serve. Muggles, meanwhile, must be managed."
"Why?" Sirius sprang to his feet, his voice rising as he shouted back. "Why do you get to decide who leads and who serves?"
Abraxas replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Because of strength. Because of a thousand years of inheritance. Because of magic's own choice. The magic of pure-blood wizards is stronger and more stable. That is a fact."
"I do not thinkā" Sirius tried to continue.
Abraxas interrupted him, his tone still gentle. "What you think is not important. The rules by which the world turns will not change because of an eight-year-old child.
When you grow up, when you have seen the chaos of the wizarding world for yourself, seen Muggles fear and persecute magic, seen how pure-blood families pushed to the margins, perhaps then you will understand."
"And if I never understand?" Sirius's eyes were full of stubborn defiance.
"Then you will have two choices," Abraxas said with a smile. "Accept that you don't understand but obey the rules. Or be excluded by them."
It was a naked threat. Sirius's face went pale, but he clenched his teeth and did not back down.
At that moment, Regulus spoke.
"Mr. Malfoy is right," his voice was very calm. "Order requires strength to uphold it. If pure-blood wizards truly possess stronger magical talent, then having us lead the wizarding world would bring a more stable and more powerful society."
Everyone looked at him.
Walburga's eyes lit up, while Orion's expression did not change.
As for Sirius, he stared at Regulus. The look in his eyes shifted from shock, to disbelief, and finally settled into a kind of disappointment.
"You think that too?" Sirius's voice trembled slightly, as if he were making one last attempt to be sure.
Regulus met his gaze. "I am stating a fact. If pure-blood wizards have stronger magical talent, then this arrangement is reasonable."
Sirius was about to argue again, his anger burning even hotter now, when Walburga stood up and scolded him harshly, "Sirius, go back to your room. Now."
Sirius looked at his mother, then his father, then his brother, and finally at Abraxas. Then he turned and left.
After Sirius was gone, the atmosphere in the sitting room actually relaxed a little.
Abraxas lifted his teacup again. "The future of the wizarding world does not lie in Britain alone. Europe. America. Asiaā¦ that lord's influence is spreading."
Families who support him will have the chance to participate in the reconstruction of a global magical order. That means resources, knowledge, and power far beyond what the current Ministry of Magic can offer."
Regulus could not help wanting to complain inwardly. Voldemort's ambitions were certainly grand, aiming for the entire world, yet he couldn't even fully control Britain.
After a moment of silence, Orion said, "We need time to consider."
Abraxas stood up. "Of course. That Lord never forces anyone. There will be a small gathering in Wiltshire next month where several like-minded families will exchange views. If the House of Black is interested, I can extend an invitation."
Walburga looked at her husband, expectation clear in her eyes.
Orion nodded. "We will consider it."
Once Malfoy had left, Walburga immediately turned to Orion. "We must attend. Abraxas is right; this is an opportunity. The House of Black should occupy a leading position in the new eraā¦"
Orion cut her off, his voice sounding tired. "Walburga, this requires caution. Everything sounds promising, but what about the price?
The 'weak elements' he wants to cleanse may include our friends, perhaps even our family."
"Andromeda no longer counts as family," Walburga said coldly.
"And Sirius. If his rebellion continuesā¦"
"Then let him go!" Walburga's voice suddenly rose. "The House of Black does not lack a rebellious son. We have Regulus!"
She looked at her younger son, her gaze burning with intensity. "You spoke very well todayārational, logical, and mindful of the bigger picture. That is what an heir of the House of Black should look like."
Regulus lowered his head and did not respond.
...
In the attic laboratory, Regulus didn't light a lamp. He sat in the darkness, replaying everything that had happened that afternoon.
Abraxas's words had revealed several key pieces of information: Voldemort's power had already spread beyond Britain and was expanding across the world.
Voldemort was tempting pure-blood families with promises of a future order, offering power and resources.
Voldemort's methods included the word 'cleansing,' which sounded gentle, but Regulus knew it would mean nothing but raw violence.
Aside from himself, no one knew that Voldemort would ultimately fail, and that this inevitable outcome would be driven by countless accidents.
He needed power.
...
...
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[CHAPTER END]