Harry Potter: Reborn as Regulus Black

Chapter 298: Stay the Night, Cousin Narcissa [bonus]

After the speech, Bella stepped back from the center of the crowd. Sound returned to the hall in slow degrees.

A few clusters gathered near where she’d stood, trading fragments of her words in voices still edged with adrenaline.

"Regulus! Regulus!"

Cuthbert pushed through the crowd, face lit up with excitement.

He’d dressed well tonight. Dark grey dress robes, the Avery family crest pinned at his collar.

Regulus gave Cuthbert a nod, then turned to the elder Avery and extended his hand. "Mr. Avery."

The older man clasped it, held for a beat, released. His tone was warm enough. "Cuthbert hasn’t been giving you trouble at school, I hope?"

"We’re friends. There’s no trouble between friends." Regulus smiled, easy and unremarkable, the way any boy would when cornered by a classmate’s father.

He added, "Cuthbert’s been a real help to me at school, actually."

The elder Avery studied him for a moment, then smiled too, nodding. "Good to hear."

Cuthbert stood beside them. At the word friends, the corner of his mouth twitched upward before he caught it, wrestling his expression back to something dignified.

The elder Avery raised his glass, took a sip, and pivoted. "The Avery family still has several proposals stalled in the Wizengamot this year. I’ll pay a visit to the Blacks one of these days, have a word with Orion."

"Anytime," Regulus said.

The elder Avery nodded, glass in hand, and walked away.

Cuthbert was left behind.

He watched his father’s back disappear into the crowd, blinked, then turned to Regulus with an expression caught between bewilderment and delight.

"Madam Lestrange was brilliant," Cuthbert said, excitement leaking through every syllable. "You heard it, right? A new order, a Pure-blood order, this is what we’ve been waiting for..."

Regulus held his sparkling water and didn’t interrupt.

"...my father’s said the same thing at home. The lot at the Ministry will be cleaned out sooner or later. The wizarding world should be led by real wizards..."

Regulus took a sip of water.

Cuthbert kept going, louder, faster, though he had enough sense not to say Mudblood to Regulus’s face.

But the fervor was genuine.

He was a true believer in blood purity, raised on it from birth. Pure-blood supremacy, half-blood inferiority, Muggle filth. The catechism had been drilled in deep.

But did Avery family believe it the same way?

Among the houses that flew Voldemort’s banner, the ones truly devoted heart and soul were fewer than they appeared.

The truly devoted were people like Bella.

She’d made Voldemort’s cause her entire reason for being, fused Pure-blood ideology with Dark Arts worship and set the whole thing ablaze, burning until she burned herself along with it.

Most Heads of House didn’t lie awake at night dreaming of Pure-blood glory. They sat in their studies calculating whether the deal was worth it.

They didn’t weep for the decline of magical bloodlines before bed. They stood wherever the profit was.

Cuthbert talked on, voice rolling, while Regulus watched him and said nothing. He listened.

In a setting like this, even with no one nearby, he wouldn’t breathe a word of dissent.

Walls had magic of their own.

And it wasn’t his job to teach or correct. Avery family would educate their own heir, in time, about what Pure-blood really meant.

Cuthbert broke off mid-sentence, waving his arm, face brightening further. "Hermes!"

Hermes was walking over from the other side of the crowd with his father, Abros Mulciber.

Hermes wore dark green dress robes, similar in cut to his usual black school robes but finer fabric, higher collar.

His expression was roughly the same one he wore in the dormitory right before lights-out.

Abros approached and touched his glass to Regulus’s.

They exchanged nods.

"Mr. Mulciber," Regulus said.

"Black." Abros’s voice was low and rough. He drank, and that was all he had to say.

Cuthbert scrambled to greet him too, dipping slightly, a touch stiff. "Mr. Mulciber."

Abros gave him a nod and took another sip.

Then Abros left as well, glass in hand, heading toward the center of the hall.

Three young wizards remained.

Cuthbert picked up right where he’d stopped, unfazed. "...I think all of it’s going to come true. Pure-blood wizards will take back what belongs to us..."

Hermes stood beside him, expression like he was studying a wall.

Regulus held his glass, face blank.

Cuthbert’s voice gradually faded. He glanced left at Hermes, right at Regulus. Neither face gave him anything.

"...You don’t think so?" A note of uncertainty crept in.

Regulus reached over and patted his shoulder. "Ask your father when you get home."

Cuthbert opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He closed it again, staring down into his glass, brow slowly knotting.

Hermes turned to Regulus. "What are you doing over the holidays?"

"You first."

"Practicing magic." As though no other answer existed.

Regulus nodded. "Same."

Cuthbert’s mouth opened again.

He’d been about to say there were loads of things he wanted to do over the break. The new broomstick catalogue he hadn’t finished reading, and once he had, he was going to buy one. There was a magical circus running a Christmas season in London. And that set of Dueling Chess Professor Flitwick had recommended...

But he looked at Regulus. Then at Hermes.

"Me too," Cuthbert said. "Practicing magic."

The corner of Hermes’s mouth moved.

Regulus looked at both of them and drank his water.

Then he spotted Narcissa.

She stood not far away, Lucius Malfoy at her side.

Narcissa wore a silver-grey gown that fell to her ankles, the waist drawn narrow, a pale blue chiffon shawl draped across her shoulders. A thin chain circled her neck, a small sapphire pendant hanging from it.

Lucius stood beside her.

He held a cane topped with a serpent’s head, the shaft lacquered black, the snake’s eyes set with two tiny emeralds.

Together they looked striking, perfectly matched.

"I’ll be back," Regulus told Cuthbert and Hermes.

Cuthbert was still turning ask your father over in his head. He nodded. Hermes wasn’t thinking about anything at all. He nodded too.

Regulus crossed through the crowd and stopped in front of Narcissa.

"Cousin."

She turned. Her expression softened when she saw him. "Regulus."

"Lucius." A nod.

Lucius raised his cane a fraction in acknowledgment, a reserved smile at the corner of his mouth. "Regulus. Good evening."

The three of them drifted toward the edge of the hall, away from the crowd.

Here, the masks could come off.

Lucius and Narcissa were engaged. Regulus and Narcissa were close. In front of Regulus, Lucius didn’t need to maintain the standard Malfoy distance.

"How’s it going?" Regulus asked, the usual question.

Lucius leaned against the wall, cane planted on the floor. "How do you think? Show your face, drink a few sips, listen to a pile of correct nonsense, go home."

He swept a glance across the crowd, dismissive. "The ones shouting loudest just now, how many of them do you think will remember what they shouted by tomorrow?"

Regulus didn’t pick that up.

"Rodolphus has been quiet tonight," he said, casual. "Since we walked in, I’ve seen him speak to maybe three people, and none of those exchanges lasted more than a sentence or two."

Regulus nodded but still didn’t engage.

"I hear you’ve got trouble with Bella?" Lucius looked at him, direct.

Narcissa frowned, gaze shifting from Lucius to Regulus. "Regulus, you know Bella isn’t what she used to be."

"It’s not trouble," Regulus said, tone light. "A difference of opinion."

Lucius tapped two fingers on the serpent head. "Because you sheltered those two half-bloods?"

He put it plainly. Regulus wasn’t surprised.

It was no secret. Anyone who cared to know could find out.

"Yes." He nodded.

Narcissa started to speak. Regulus met her eyes, and her mouth closed.

Lucius ignored their exchange and continued. "You’re the Black family heir. It can’t be as simple as sheltering them. What are you using them for?"

"It started as a passing thing." That was all Regulus offered.

Lucius heard the implication. It started as a passing thing, which meant it wasn’t anymore.

He didn’t press further.

"Cousin." Regulus turned to Narcissa. "Stay after the banquet. I need to talk to Cousin Bella, and it’d be better with family present."

Something anxious flickered through her eyes.

She knew the story. Bella had written to her about it, more than once.

Narcissa understood what he meant. He wanted to sit down with Bella, and having family in the room would keep Bella from losing her temper too quickly.

"Talk to her properly," Narcissa said, concern plain in her voice. "You know who’s behind her."

Regulus felt it. His expression eased, a trace of warmth surfacing, though he didn’t volunteer what he planned to do. No rush.

"I know, Cousin," he said. "Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Cousin Bella properly."

Lucius glanced at Narcissa, then at Regulus.

"I’ll head out, then." Lucius turned to Narcissa, his tone dropping into something domestic and familiar.

"I’ll go get dinner started. Don’t count on eating at these things. Those salmon slices sitting in the cold mist look lovely, but they taste like chewing a mouthful of ice."

Narcissa looked at him, the corner of her mouth curving. She tightened her hold on his arm and made a soft sound of assent.

"Lucius." He was about to turn away when Regulus stopped him. "You should stay too."

Lucius’s feet stilled. He looked at Regulus.

His first thought was decidedly not he thinks of me as family. That was the sort of thing children did.

Regulus was young, yes. But nothing he’d done, none of the reputation he’d earned, had anything to do with his age.

He exchanged a look with Narcissa.

Her brow creased again. Lucius reached over and pressed his hand lightly against the back of hers.

"All right," Lucius said. "I’ll stay."

He kept watching Regulus, a flicker of scrutiny in his eyes.

Inviting an outsider to a Black family matter meant one of two things: trust that ran deep enough, or the need for a witness.

Trust existed between them, but that trust flowed through Narcissa, and both of them knew exactly how far it extended.

That left one option. A witness.

Regulus nodded. "See you shortly, Cousin."

Then he walked away from them, crossing through the now-thinning crowd, heading back toward Cuthbert and Hermes.

Narcissa was quiet for a moment before she spoke. "When he said he’d talk to her properly, did you see his face?"

Lucius looked at her.

"Too relaxed," she murmured. "He’s been like that since he was small. The more relaxed he looks, the more something’s off."

Lucius patted the hand resting on his arm and said nothing.

The ballroom was emptying.

Most of the platters had been cleared from the long table. Servants moved quietly, tidying. The silver candelabras still burned, but the flames had shrunk, the light dimming with them.

Regulus stood in the hall and looked around.

Orion stood by the fireplace, expression blank.

Sirius stood at Orion’s left, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor.

Narcissa and Lucius were on the far side of the room. She held his arm, her face half-lost in the candlelight.

Rodolphus stood by the doorframe between the entrance and the hall, leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching the room without expression.

Bella stood at the center of the ballroom, her gaze traveling from one face to the next.

Walburga smoothed her skirt and turned to Orion. "That’s enough. Time to go."

Orion didn’t move.

A crease appeared between her brows. "Orion?"

"A bit longer," Orion said.

Walburga looked at him, then at Regulus standing a short distance away, then across at Bella and Rodolphus, and further off at Narcissa and Lucius.

Her expression shifted from confusion to blankness.

She knew something was about to happen. No one had told her what.

One more figure, at the far end.

Rabastan Lestrange stood in the corner nearest the back door, half hidden behind a pillar.

The air went still.

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