Chapter 48: Conversation with Narcissa
About ten minutes later, Narcissa arrived as well.
She did not sit at first. She stood by the sofa, looking down at Regulus. The firelight warmed the pale shine of her hair, but her eyes were steady and serious.
"You frightened me today," Narcissa said softly.
Regulus looked up. He knew exactly what she meant.
"I apologise," he said, and it was not the sort of apology offered out of convenience.
Narcissa cared about family ties far more than Bella did. She had warned him more than once to show restraint, especially when the castle was full of eyes and mouths and letters that travelled fast. Before he had even come to Hogwarts, she had spoken to him often, sharing her own experiences with an ease that felt almost like instruction.
Regulus could feel the care beneath her caution. With Narcissa, he allowed himself to be more sincere.
"It is not a bad thing," Narcissa said, and this time she sat beside him, folding herself into the sofa with practiced elegance.
"I simply realised, all at once, that you have grown up. Uncle Orion wrote to me. He asked me to keep an eye on you at school. Aunt Walburga mentioned it as well. But now it seems you do not need anyone watching over you."
Regulus did not answer immediately, but something in his expression softened.
Narcissa continued, her voice still quiet.
"What you did today was very mature. It was also dangerous. You put yourself in the open. More people will watch you now."
"Let them," Regulus said, firm enough to reassure her.
In truth, the watching did not trouble him. He simply understood the rules of the game he was playing.
As a first year, he needed to stay within the school's boundaries, tolerate the professors' attention, and maintain the surface of an outstanding student. A bright pupil. A model Slytherin. Someone harmless on paper.
But the upper years did not matter to him in any fundamental sense.
It was not arrogance. It was an assessment.
What filled most of their heads, house politics and pure blood posturing, was shallow. In two years, when he reached third year, how far would his control have advanced. How wide would his astral meditation expand. How many spells would be second nature. How strong would he become.
By then, he would no longer compare himself to students.
His measure would be the Ministry's so called elite Aurors, or even certain professors.
Voldemort had managed to create a Horcrux by fifth year. Why would Regulus accept lesser limits.
His gaze had never lingered on mediocrity.
"Cousin Narcissa," he began, lowering his voice, "you are worried someone will target me. But look at it from another angle. If they can see my position clearly, it may 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," Regulus said. "Instead of letting others guess and prod and plot in the shadows, it is better if I set the tone myself. It is better than hiding."
He paused, watching her face. When she did not object, he continued.
"As for choosing a side," Regulus said, leaning in slightly, voice dropping another notch, "let us speak plainly."
Narcissa did not interrupt. Her eyes told him to continue.
"On Bella's side and That Lord's side, I know they are recruiting. I understand what the Blacks expect."
Then Regulus looked directly into her eyes.
"But I have to ask. Does the Black family, or rather the Sacred Twenty Eight, truly have only two choices."
Narcissa's breath caught.
Regulus did not need to name the two paths. She knew them. Swear yourself to Voldemort, or place yourself under Dumbledore.
Regulus kept his voice calm.
"A thousand year wizarding family survives for a millennium. Does it do so by betting correctly on every coup. Or does it survive because no matter who rises, the family remains standing."
Narcissa fell silent, the firelight flickering over her face.
After a long moment, she spoke, equally softly.
"Regulus. You know Bella is currently trusted by That Lord."
Regulus leaned back, eyes drifting to the flames as if he were watching something older than the fire itself. After a few seconds, he looked back to her.
"Cousin," he asked, "does the Black family need that trust."
Narcissa went still.
It was a question she had never allowed herself to consider.
That was Voldemort. Trust from him felt like power.
Yet Regulus's words pressed another thought into her mind, one that had been there all along but never spoken. Why were all the ancient families talking as if they had to choose one master. Who had decided that was the only way.
Whose problem was this, exactly.
Regulus continued, voice even and careful.
"Bella is Black. The trust she receives is a resource for the family. But there is nuance in how that resource should be used, by whom, and when."
He watched Narcissa. She looked slightly dazed, as if the ground had shifted under her feet.
"Investment is long term," Regulus said. "Putting the whole family's fortune on a short surge is gambling. That is not how a thousand year family acts."
Narcissa's pupils tightened. She understood enough, and the parts she did not understand yet still frightened her, because they felt true.
Bella's letters were filled with fervour and certainty. Bella had made her devotion her identity. But to the Blacks, Bella was one member of the family.
Regulus was speaking about legacy.
"You mean," Narcissa said slowly, choosing every word, "the Blacks should not rely on only one line."
"I am saying," Regulus replied gently, "if a tree has only one deep root, and the others have withered, what will it cling to when the great winds come."
He looked at her, grey eyes deep in the firelight.
"The Blacks are not a newly sprouted seedling. We have many roots."
He returned to Voldemort, but from a different angle.
"That Lord needs power," Regulus said. "And there are many kinds of power."
"Fanatical loyalty is one kind. A calm mind is another. Warriors who charge into battle are one kind. Those who stabilise the rear and coordinate resources are rarer still."
He continued without raising his voice.
"Bella has already proven the Blacks can provide the first kind. So what if we can also provide the second."
Narcissa inhaled slowly.
Looking at the eleven year old beside her, she felt a chill of realisation. Not fear of him, exactly, but shock at the depth in his thinking.
He had not said one disloyal word. He had even affirmed Voldemort's needs.
Yet the meaning was unmistakable. The Blacks would position themselves as partners, as strategic providers of resources, rather than as simple followers.
It was more brilliant.
It was also far more dangerous.
"These words," Narcissa said, her voice turning dry, "have you spoken to Uncle Orion about them."
Regulus shook his head.
"Father will understand."
He thought of the ring Orion had given him. The key to the library. The quiet reminder to be restrained.
Orion Black was not a fanatic. He was a helmsman. Sending his son to Slytherin, allowing Regulus independence, all of it built toward the same objective.
When the storm came, if the Blacks boarded the ship, they would sit in a cabin with a window, not be locked in the hold.
Narcissa nodded, slow and thoughtful.
Now she understood. Not only what Regulus meant, but why he had acted as he did today. He had displayed that second kind of power for everyone to see.
Calm. Restrained. Able to hold a corridor full of wands in place, and weigh consequences without shaking.
A message to observers.
Including someone far beyond the castle walls.
"I understand," Narcissa said, and her tone carried weight. "So you need information. Information that lets the family judge correctly."
"Yes," Regulus said, leaning forward a fraction, signalling trust.
"Cousin, what we lack is not a stance. It is vision. Hearing only Bella's side is like trying to see the road with one eye, and that eye is tilted."
Narcissa's mind went to Bella's letters, fevered with rhetoric, and Bella's increasing extremity. If the Blacks listened only to that voice, they would be led straight into disaster.
"I will keep an eye out," Narcissa promised, solemn now. "Not only on the Malfoys, but on the Lestranges. On other families. On rumour inside the Ministry."
She met his eyes.
"Anything of value, I will tell you."
"Through secure means," Regulus added. "Or speak in person."
He would not risk sensitive matters on paper. Voldemort's need for control was too strong, and there was no telling what methods might be used to monitor correspondence.
Narcissa nodded once.
"Alright."
With the core of it settled, Regulus allowed his shoulders to loosen. His voice shifted, becoming more casual, as if he were simply an attentive younger cousin again.
"Cousin," he asked, "is Elder Mr Malfoy in good health."