Chapter 55: The Imperius and Heritage Magic
Regulus understood, and he pressed on.
"What specific magic is included in the heritage?"
Orion's answer came with the solemn pride of a man reciting sacred names.
"There is Ancestor Cassandra's Shadow Stealth Charm. It lets you melt into shadow, achieving true invisibility and even shifting from one shadow to another. It is far beyond a Disillusionment Charm.
"There is Ancestor Eldrin's Nature Magic. It draws natural magic into the body, from the faint vitality of flowers and grass to the heavy force of mountains and rivers. Everything can be harnessed.
"There is Ancestor Aurelius's Sky Volcano Curse. It does not require terrain. It condenses a molten core in a chosen stretch of air, then detonates it into a floating volcano. Magma and fire streams lock onto targets with terrifying precision.
"There is Ancestor Valerius's Bone and Blood Binding Curse. Using your own blood as the guide, it forcibly binds you to an enemy by establishing a bloodline link. Through that link, you can strike directly through the blood, or read the likely line of an attack.
"And Ancestor Sevia's Soul Healing Charm, which repairs damage to the soul.
"There is also the Space Anchor Charm. It sets invisible anchors in empty space to stabilise the structure of the area, resisting Apparition ambushes and space twisting magic."
Orion's voice lowered slightly, reverent and cautious all at once.
"These spells are exceptionally powerful, and exceptionally dangerous. Nature Magic most of all. A moment of lapse is enough to be flooded by violent natural power. Ancestor Eldrin died because he siphoned too much.
"The Sky Volcano Curse places a massive strain on the mind. The smallest distraction can send it out of control and burn the caster instead. The shock of each inheritance memory alone is enough to make even an adult wizard hesitate."
Regulus felt his thoughts tighten with interest. Nature Magic echoed his earlier experiment, the one where he had guided the faint magic within a daisy.
Perhaps that was the direction he needed, if he wanted to draw out the lethal force within a mandrake without being torn apart by it.
He wanted them all.
"I can handle it."
His voice was firm, leaving no room for polite refusal.
"What I showed just now was not everything. My mind is more resilient than an ordinary person's, and my soul is stable enough to withstand the impact of the ancestors' memories."
Orion frowned deeply, disbelief written plain on his face.
"I admit you have power, foresight, and judgement," he said. "But strength of mind and soul is not measured by those. The will within those inheritances has been tempered over thousands of years. It is far stronger than you think. Even I would not claim I could fully resist it."
He stared at Regulus as though trying to locate the seam where a child ended and something else began.
"It is illogical," Orion added, quieter, "for an eleven year old to possess that sort of spirit on top of everything else."
Regulus knew words would not convince him. So he met Orion's eyes and offered a solution.
"Then test me with the Imperius Curse."
Regulus had his reasons.
In the original history, Harry Potter resisted the Imperius in his fourth year. Regulus had no intention of being less capable than that.
Orion froze for a beat, then understood exactly what Regulus meant.
The Imperius acted directly on will and consciousness. It was the most direct measure of mental strength. Resisting it was proof no speech could fake.
Orion clearly wanted to refuse. There was a reason it was Unforgivable. But Regulus's expression did not waver, and Orion could not ignore everything he had already witnessed.
"Fine."
Orion rose, wand lifting. His voice turned hard and controlled, the voice of a man handling poison with bare hands.
"I will control the intensity. We will start weak, then increase gradually. If anything feels wrong, you tell me at once."
Regulus stepped back, giving Orion space.
"Imperio!"
The spell snapped through the air. A death grey surge pushed straight for Regulus's consciousness.
He felt it instantly.
An alien will slid against his mind like cold fingers, whispering with a compulsive softness that was somehow more frightening than shouting.
Raise your hand.
Turn around.
Put down your wand.
It was not merely a suggestion. It was an attempt to seize ownership of his limbs and bend his judgement until it belonged to someone else.
Regulus's mental barrier held.
The intrusion struck it like a wave slamming against a reef and shattered at once, breaking apart before it could touch anything real inside him.
Orion saw Regulus's eyes go briefly blank, his focus dimming, and assumed the curse had taken hold.
In a low voice, Orion commanded, "Raise your hand."
Regulus did not move.
He stood perfectly upright, no tremor in his posture, no slackness in his grip, no sign of obedience.
Orion's brow tightened. His wand hand shifted, and the pressure of the curse increased.
More will flooded in. The whispering multiplied. The weight behind the foreign intention grew sharper, more forceful, as if it meant to lever open Regulus's consciousness by brute insistence. It even began to interfere with the flow of his magic, searching for a flaw, trying to create one.
Regulus remained calm. Then, to Orion's shock, he spoke.
"Keep it going a bit longer. I want to feel it properly."
Orion stared.
Who asked to experience the Imperius longer?
This was one of the three Unforgivable Curses, a violation aimed at the core of will. Ordinary witches and wizards either fought with everything they had or folded at once. Even those who resisted described it as pain, as strain, as a tearing pressure inside the mind.
Regulus sounded as though he were asking Orion to hold a door open.
There was no struggle in his magic, no disruption in his breathing. He looked as though the curse were not a curse at all, but a mild charm he was studying out of curiosity.
Orion could have pushed further. He could have made the Imperius corrosive, sharpened it until it clawed through the barrier and left permanent wounds.
But this was his son.
And there was no need.
What Orion had already seen was enough. More than enough.
Orion lowered his wand, ending the curse.
Regulus blinked once, and his eyes were clear. There was no haze, no lingering compulsion. His magic flowed steady, as if nothing had touched it at all.
Orion's voice came out with a tight edge of excitement.
"Your mental strength is truly enough to withstand the ancestors' memories."
He put his wand away, then looked at Regulus for a long moment, as though recalculating the world with new numbers.
"Come with me."
Orion turned first. The corners of his mouth lifted despite himself, and his pace quickened, betraying the anticipation he refused to show openly.
A little later, as if it were merely a casual thought, Orion spoke again, though his tone carried a quiet hope he could not fully hide.
"Is Sirius also like you?"
Regulus followed, suddenly at a loss for words.
Mr Black, what exactly are you hoping for?
"He," Regulus answered carefully, "is very healthy."
Orion gave a light cough.
No more was said.
They moved deeper, through hidden corridors that cut through the bones of the house, until they reached a sealed stone door tucked far within the training room's depths.
Beyond it lay the family's chamber of secrets.
The door was a single slab of obsidian, carved with ancient runes that radiated a heavy, old magic. Orion murmured an obscure spell. One by one the runes lit red, and the door opened inward with a slow, deliberate grind.
The scent that spilled out was the scent of long years: cold stone, stale air, and something faintly metallic, like a memory of lightning trapped in a jar.
Inside, the chamber was wide and solemn. Magical torches burned along the walls, their light falling on a raised stone platform at the centre.
On the platform sat a dozen crystal spheres, each no larger than a fist. Within them, a faint silver current flowed, and within that silver, flickering images moved like half remembered dreams.
"This is the family heritage," Orion said softly. Awe filled his eyes.
Then he turned to Regulus, and the softness vanished, replaced by iron warning.
"Remember this. When you touch a crystal, the ancestor's memory will trigger at once. Do not fight it. Do not push it away. Accept it, understand it, and make it your own."
Orion's gaze sharpened.
"If you feel your mind cannot bear it, disconnect immediately. Do not try to be brave."
Regulus stepped up to the platform. His eyes went to the leftmost sphere.
Ancestor Eldrin's Nature Magic.
He reached out and let his fingertips touch the crystal.
Cold bit into his skin.
Then the chamber vanished.
A massive surge of magic and memory crashed into his consciousness like a tidal wave. He saw mountains and forests, felt the weight of air and soil and living roots. He saw a figure seated in stillness among trees, and with that figure came the method, the insight, the sensation of linking oneself to everything that lived.
Regulus's body tensed. His consciousness barrier expanded fully, not to reject the inheritance, but to hold it, to contain the impact without letting it tear him apart.
Orion remained at his side, watching every shift in Regulus's face, ready to sever the connection the instant control slipped.
Regulus trembled. Cold sweat beaded at his hairline.
But he did not collapse.
Orion's surprise deepened, turning into something close to disbelief all over again.
Regulus sank into the inheritance. Eldrin's understanding of natural magic unfolded with ruthless clarity, each layer of it pressing into Regulus's mind.
And then the flaw became obvious.
Ancestor Eldrin's Nature Magic was not only technique.
It was talent.
Something innate, like Parseltongue.
Regulus did not possess it.
Time lost its meaning inside the flood of memory. At last, Regulus pulled his hand away. His fingertips left the crystal, and the pressure eased enough for him to breathe again.
Orion spoke at once.
"How was it?"
Regulus's mouth tightened slightly at the corners.
"It was alright."