HP: Those Years Sleeping with the Half-Blood Prince

Kevin's wailing was still lingering when Regulus stood up and walked to the low cabinet by the fireplace, where snacks or drinks were usually kept.

With his back to them, his voice was very soft, almost swallowed by the firelight: "Some things can indeed be bought with money, some... cannot."

He paused, picked up a piece of licorice wand that Aris had left there—the kind Kevin wouldn't even touch—and slowly took a bite without even frowning.

"This flavor is...unique."

"That's Aris's academic snack to keep him alert; it's terribly bitter." Kevin made a face. "You really can eat that?"

"I'm used to it," Regulus said, turning around with a blank expression on his face.

He sat back down in the armchair, this time not immediately picking up the book, but instead focusing his gaze on the leaping flames.

After a while, he said, "Nott has been collecting some... old things lately, old chessboards, old picture frames, silver-plated ink bottles, unassuming, but he's making inquiries."

Aris looked up: "The era? The specific type?"

“From the late eighteenth to the early nineteenth century, the craftsmanship was old-fashioned, especially,” Regulus lowered his voice, “with family crests, but the families had… declined or disappeared.”

Ian and Severus exchanged a glance. This didn't sound like a typical collector's obsession.

"Who is he helping to find something?" Ian asked, unconsciously twirling a copper nut in his hand.

"He didn't say it, but he mentioned it once: 'Some containers are better old than new, and those stained with blood are more obedient.'" Regulus spoke slowly, but the last few words were as cold as ice.

There was a moment of silence in the room.

"Understood." Ian placed Coppernut in his palm. "We'll keep an eye on the circulation of these kinds of things. Be careful yourself, don't get too involved."

Regulus grunted in agreement and picked up the heraldry book again, but didn't focus on it.

His gaze fell on the chessboard, where Kevin was trying to place a knight on top of the queen's head, failing several times.

"Do it this way," Regulus suddenly reached out and lightly tapped the knight's base with the tip of his wand, then adjusted the angle of the queen's crown, "the center of gravity is here."

The knight swayed and then came to a stop.

Kevin's eyes widened: "Wow! Regulus, you can do this too?"

"I played with it when I was little... out of boredom." Regulus put away his wand, his fingertips curling on the pages of the book.

After that, Regulus's interactions with them became more and more natural. He didn't speak often, but his presence subtly altered the airflow in the room.

Sometimes Kevin and Aris would argue about the principles of a spell, almost to the point of a full-blown fight, when Regulus would look up from his book and quote a sentence from an obscure classic, leaving both of them stunned. Aris would then fall into deep thought, while Kevin would scratch his head and go to the book to verify it.

He no longer always sits in the same spot by the window.

On one occasion, he casually sat down in the empty chair next to Severus's workbench in order to see how Severus was processing a rare moongrass slice.

Severus paused for a moment, said nothing, but simply pushed the prepared slice toward him, indicating that he should see it himself.

Regulus examined it closely, his pale fingertips hovering over the slice without touching it.

"The angle of the seventh cut is different from what the book says."

"Books are dead," Severus said curtly, his hands not stopping.

Regulus nodded and didn't ask any more questions, but when he was working on his own document, he quietly adjusted the angle of his wrist.

Ian noticed these subtle changes.

On one occasion, after Regulus left, he leaned on Severus's shoulder and whispered, "He doesn't look... as much like a ghost anymore."

Severus was checking a complicated potion formula, the tip of his quill pen gliding across the parchment.

"The ghost of the Black family is heavier than anyone else's."

The words were cold, but Ian sensed something else. At least, Severus no longer instinctively tensed his back when Regulus approached.

On a rainy night in early March, Regulus brought more specific and unsettling news.

"In Tumbler Alley, behind the 'Bloody Hood' bar, a new, inconspicuous shop has opened, with no sign."

As he spoke, his fingers unconsciously rubbed a button on his cuff. "The shopkeeper is a stranger, but Nott and the Caro family have been there twice. I had Kreacher... overhear a little bit."

He looked up, his grey-blue eyes reflecting the uneasy glow of the fire.

"They are looking for materials that can preserve 'active magic carriers' for a long time, especially those with a high affinity for dark magic, not the common ones. They mentioned snakewood, the core of cursed yew wood, and... the special glandular secretions of the White River Monster."

These are all extremely niche, and even regulated, items.

"Preparing the container." Severus's voice sounded cold in the rain.

"And it's not just for temporary use," Ian continued, tapping his fingers on his knee. "What they want is for something to stay permanently."

Regulus nodded, his weariness deepening in his eyes. "Knockturn Alley hasn't been peaceful lately. Some shops have quietly changed owners, and some... who used to do legitimate business on the fringes have started taking strange orders. My father mentioned at dinner that 'some friends' businesses are expanding very quickly, and told me to avoid that area."

"Did your father include the Nott and Carol families among the 'friends' he mentioned?" Aris asked, pen already in his hand.

"Including," Regulus said, "and the Lestrange family, and several other Nordic families with whom we didn't have much contact before."

Silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of raindrops tapping against the high window.

Kevin broke the silence, scratching his head, his voice filled with confusion: "Why do they need so many 'houses'? To serve as hotels for dark magic?"

This overly straightforward metaphor strangely eased the tense atmosphere.

Aris sighed: "In a sense, yes, and perhaps even a 'long-stay hotel'."

"In short," Ian concluded, his gaze sweeping over everyone, "we should all avoid Knockturn Alley for now. Regulus, you too, try to stay away. We've got the news, we'll keep an eye out through other channels."

Regulus seemed to want to say something; his lips moved, but in the end he simply nodded. "There's one more thing."

He lowered his voice further, "Kreacher said it saw strange house-elves roaming at night near the old Black house, dressed...in clothes that were unlike any in England."

"Understood," Ian said. "Thank you, Regulus. And thank you, Kreacher."

Regulus curled the corners of his mouth slightly, the curve so small it was almost invisible.

"It... is happy to be of some help. It's been saying lately that no one in the old house, except me, is willing to listen to it."

When Regulus left that night, it seemed like he had made a huge decision. "Next Thursday... I might not be able to come. There are some things to take care of at home."

"Hmm." Ian didn't ask what it was about. "Anytime."

Regulus nodded and turned to walk into the shadows of the corridor.