Chapter 71: Attitude and Speculation
Orion did not argue. The Killing Curse was not particularly sophisticated magic. Its effectiveness depended more on the caster's raw power and their intent to kill.
If a hesitant person cast it, the effect would be greatly diminished, at most causing the target a nosebleed.
Orion was simply curious, or rather, unsettled.
"If I had not stopped you," he asked, "would you really have killed him?"
Regulus looked at the cold faced wizard still twitching on the stones and stayed silent for a few seconds.
For this question, he chose to give Orion the truth.
"I am not afraid of killing."
Then he added, calm and precise.
"But I would not use the Killing Curse to do it. At least not now. Using the Killing Curse is too conspicuous."
He lifted his wand and examined it as if it were a tool rather than a symbol.
"Especially using one's own wand. It causes too many problems."
He continued, voice steady.
"There are too many ways to kill. Without magic, one can do it physically. Snap a neck. Pierce the heart. Open an artery."
"Using magic but not Dark magic, one can use Transfiguration. Turn the air in his lungs into poison gas. Turn the blood in his veins into mercury. A clever impact. A fall from a great height."
"Even the environment is convenient. A collapse. An explosion. Or without acting at all, simply leaving him here. Someone always needs materials for experiments."
With each method Regulus listed, Orion's eyes narrowed by a fraction.
He was not judging the practicality. He was measuring the mindset behind the words.
Calm.
Rational.
Pragmatic.
Morality set aside in favour of efficiency and risk.
It was a familiar pure blood way of thinking, only more honest than most.
Many families talked about justice as if their status and seats had been earned through kindness and peace.
Orion asked again.
"Then if I had not appeared, how did you plan to deal with these people?"
Regulus turned his head and looked at his father.
Instead of answering directly, he asked a question.
"Does our family have any business related to human bodies?"
Orion looked at him. He did not speak immediately.
After a long moment, he answered.
"Yes. There are three clinics and two alchemy laboratories in Knockturn Alley that require materials periodically."
He added, matter of fact.
"Mainly Dark wizards, werewolves, and vampires. Types not protected by law."
Regulus's expression did not change.
Orion, after another brief pause, added one more line.
"Occasionally, Muggles as well."
Regulus nodded and said nothing more.
He did not need to.
His meaning was clear.
Orion did not press further. He was not shocked by Regulus's attitude. Orion himself was not afraid of killing.
As Head of the House of Black, as a man who had navigated the highest circles of wizarding Britain for decades, his hands could not be clean.
Some of those Knockturn businesses existed with his permission. Some were controlled by him directly. Some had been created because he pushed them into existence.
He simply did not want Regulus to kill someone personally so early.
It was not a moral objection.
It was psychological.
The first time killing was different from the hundredth. The hundredth was different from the thousandth.
The first time left a mark. It carved something into the soul.
Orion had hoped Regulus would grow older first, that his heart would be firmer and more stable before he crossed that line.
But looking at Regulus now, Orion suspected his son had crossed it long ago.
Not necessarily through action.
Through perception.
Perhaps to Regulus, killing was not sacred or taboo. It was simply an option. A method. A solution.
Like using a knife to cut vegetables, or fire to boil water.
Natural.
Ordinary.
Not requiring meaning.
Orion did not know whether that was good or bad.
But Regulus could summon a Patronus.
That meant there was no need to fear the worst.
Orion took one last look at the four attackers on the ground and raised his wand.
Four powerful Stupefy spells struck their foreheads with perfect accuracy.
All four bodies went limp at once.
Orion waved his wand again, and the unconscious figures floated up behind him.
"Come," Orion said. "It is time to go home."
They left the side alley and returned to the main stretch of Knockturn Alley.
Pedestrians remained sparse. Everyone hurried with heads down. No one cared about four unconscious bodies drifting behind the Head of the House of Black.
A few people glanced over. The moment they saw the Black crest on Orion, they looked away at once, pretending they had seen nothing.
That was the rule of Knockturn Alley.
Mind your own business if you want to live long.
They dumped the four bodies into a shop, then reached the dark passage near Knockturn Alley's exit.
Orion stopped.
"Do not tell your mother about today."
Regulus looked at him, mildly curious, then nodded.
"Of course."
"And one more thing," Orion added after a moment's thought. "We come to Knockturn Alley a few times every year. In the future, come with me. Watch more. Learn more. But do not act lightly."
He kept his voice even.
"Some things are enough to know. You do not need to do them personally."
"Understood."
They stepped out of the passage and into the clean brick of Diagon Alley.
Sunlight spilled down, warm and bright. The air felt fresh. Somewhere nearby, children laughed.
Compared to the dim filth of Knockturn Alley, this place looked like heaven.
By the time they returned from Diagon Alley to Number 12, Grimmauld Place, the sky had darkened. The fireplace burned bright, and the house felt sealed away from the city like a private world.
Kreacher took Orion's robe and helped Regulus unfasten the clasp of his cloak with brisk efficiency.
Dinner was held in the dining room. The long table was packed with dishes prepared under Walburga's personal supervision.
Golden roasted lamb chops.
Escargot under cream sauce.
A mountain of mashed potatoes.
And pumpkin pasties, the kind Regulus liked.
Candlelight flickered beneath the crystal chandelier, and silver cutlery reflected a soft glow.
Walburga sat at the head of the table, her eyes fixed on Regulus as if she could measure his growth by watching him eat.
She watched him cut lamb. Watched him drink soup. Watched him eat the pasties.
The expression on her face, a mix of pride and worry, threatened to spill over.
"You are going back to school tomorrow," Walburga said, cutting her own lamb chop, the knife tapping porcelain with crisp little sounds. "Is everything packed?"
"Everything is packed," Regulus said after swallowing.
"Take care of your health at school," Walburga continued, concern threaded through her tone. "Do not focus only on studying."
"You are still growing. Eat when you should, sleep when you should. Those lessons are not difficult for you. There is no need to push so hard."
Then her tone shifted, the familiar contradiction rising.
"Of course, you must still strive where you should strive."
"A member of the House of Black cannot fall behind. If anyone is foolish enough to cross you, teach them a lesson. Let them see what our family can do."
Regulus listened quietly, nodding now and then.
He was long used to this. On one hand, she urged restraint and health. On the other, she demanded glory and dominance.
After dinner, Orion went to the study to handle documents.
Regulus followed.
When he knocked, Orion was standing by the window, looking out at the street beyond the curtains.
He turned at the sound, saw Regulus, and pointed to the chair opposite his desk.
"Sit."
Regulus sat and arranged his thoughts.
"Father," he began, direct as always, "regarding the Malfoy family, I would like to share some views."
Orion returned to his chair behind the desk, folded his hands on the tabletop, and waited.
Regulus asked first, "How is Abraxas Malfoy's health?"
"I saw him at a gathering not long ago," Orion said. "His spirits were good. But age brings small ailments. Why do you ask?"
"It occurred to me," Regulus replied evenly. "If Malfoy were to have an accident, illness, injury, or worse, what would happen to his family?"
Orion's eyes narrowed.
"Have you heard rumours?"
"No rumours," Regulus said, shaking his head. "Only speculation."
"The Malfoys are at their peak. Abraxas is skilled, and he has managed his house to its zenith. But perhaps that is not entirely a good thing."
He watched Orion's face and continued when he saw no interruption.
"Especially now. Voldemort needs loyal followers, not allies who cannot be controlled."
"A family that is too powerful, with too many ideas of its own, may not fit what he wants."
Orion leaned forward slightly.
"What are you implying?"
"I am not implying anything," Regulus said. "I am guessing."
"Let us assume something happens. If Abraxas truly has an accident, who benefits most?"
"Lucius would inherit, but he is young. He lacks experience. His methods are far inferior to his father's."
"What becomes of the Malfoys then? A wealthy house with less judgement and less backbone."
"A tool that is easier to steer. Easier to exploit."
Regulus looked directly at Orion.
"Which Malfoy would Voldemort prefer? A shrewd partner like Abraxas who cannot be fully controlled, or a successor like Lucius who is easier to manipulate?"
The study fell quiet.
Orion's fingers tapped the desk lightly as he thought.
"This speculation is dangerous," Orion said at last, slow and careful. "And bold."
"Abraxas is an open supporter of Voldemort. They have collaborated for years. There is no reason"
.....
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