The squeezing pressure of apparition hit harder than Regulus had expected.
Orion's magic wrapped around him like a steady shield, and for a split second it felt like being forced through a narrow rubber tube at speed. His organs compressed, the world tightened to a point, and then everything opened up again.
When his boots met solid ground, Malfoy Manor was already towering in front of them.
The front doors stood open. Two house-elves in immaculate uniforms bowed in greeting, Malfoy crest embroidered at their collars.
Champagne, roasted chestnuts, and warm magical spices mingled in the air. Somewhere deeper inside, a string ensemble played low and smooth, exactly the kind of music a pure-blood family would choose when they wanted the night to feel expensive.
"Plenty of people here," Orion said, straightening his pitch-black robes. His fingers brushed the family brooch at his chest. "Stay close, talk less and observe everything."
Regulus nodded, his eyes flicking to the guest list by the entrance, surnames stitched in gold thread.
Lestrange, Carrow, Nott, Yaxley, Avery, Travers, Goyle, Crabbe…
Families from the Sacred Twenty-Eight that leaned toward Voldemort, plus a handful of neutral pure-blood representatives who'd clearly come to take the temperature of the room.
Inside the main hall, the marble floor had been polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the enchanted reliefs along the columns.
The carvings depicted generations of Malfoy Heads of House forging contracts with dragons, griffins, and other magical creatures. The edges gleamed with gold leaf.
Every piece of furniture was dark walnut, armrests and chair backs worked with elaborate curling patterns. The cushions were silver-green velvet, cool and smooth under the fingertips, firm in that precise way that screamed money and discipline.
A life-sized silver statue stood in one corner, the first Head of House Malfoy captured mid-stride with wand raised. A diamond set into the wand tip drank in the light and scattered it, casting tiny specks across the floor like fallen stars.
The hall was already crowded. Robes ran heavy on silver-green, deep green, and dark red. Wizards spoke in low voices over champagne glasses, witches drifted past in swaying skirts, laughter appearing now and then like a shimmer.
People kept stopping Orion as they moved through.
"Mr. Black, it's been a long time." A wizard with a neat mustache raised his glass. It was the current Head of House Yaxley. His gaze slid to Regulus. "Regulus?"
"Yaxley," Orion replied with a curt nod, then turned slightly. "Regulus."
"A handsome young man." Yaxley's eyes lingered on him with open approval.
Regulus returned a polite nod. "Mr. Yaxley."
They went a little farther before a short, broad man approached.
Old Crabbe.
The current Head of House Crabbe wore a smile that tried to look harmless, but his small eyes were sharp. The kind of man who always made sure he stood behind whoever looked strongest.
"Orion." Old Crabbe clasped Orion's hand, not too hard, not too soft, pure-blood courtesy done like a practiced ritual.
"Crabbe." Orion's tone stayed flat, giving nothing away.
He shifted aside, letting Regulus step forward, and lifted his chin. "This is Regulus."
Past the crowd, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa stood at the center of the hall receiving guests.
Lucius wore a perfectly tailored silver-green robe, his blond hair combed into immaculate order. He held a wand set with a sapphire, and the smile on his face was controlled and confident. Everything about him, from the angle of his brows to the lift at the corner of his mouth, carried the current arrogance of a house at its peak.
Narcissa stood beside him in white robes, her blond hair swept into an elegant updo. She looked poised and composed, already carrying herself like the lady of the manor.
"Uncle Orion. Regulus." Narcissa spoke first, her voice soft. Her eyes rested on Regulus for a moment longer than necessary.
"Lucius. Narcissa." Orion clasped Lucius's hand briefly. "How's your father?"
"He's resting inside. He'll come out later." Lucius's attention shifted to Regulus. "Regulus."
"Mr. Malfoy." Regulus's posture was flawless.
Lucius shook his hand with practiced warmth. "Call me Lucius. Narcissa mentions you often, the finest of the Blacks."
Lucius's smile deepened. He stepped aside and gestured them in. "Please. The champagne and sweets are ready."
On the raised platform to one side, the musicians kept playing. Guests clustered in twos and threes, and every conversation circled the same subjects: changes in the Ministry of Magic, Voldemort's movements, and the quiet bargaining of family interests.
Regulus followed Orion to a corner and accepted a glass of champagne from a house-elf. His gaze swept the room fast, memorizing faces, expressions, positions.
Orion had drilled it into him. A social gathering was an intelligence gathering, and the truth lived in the details.
Before long, a ripple of commotion moved through the hall. Abraxas Malfoy appeared on the platform.
He was much older than Orion, hair threaded with gray, but his eyes were bright. His silver-green robes were embroidered with intricate patterns, and rumor said the core of his wand came from phoenix feather, powerful and temperamental.
The talking beneath the platform softened, then died. Every head turned toward Abraxas.
"Thank you all for coming to Malfoy Manor tonight." His voice, magically amplified, filled the hall with calm authority. "The wizarding world stands at a turning point. The old order is crumbling, and new power is rising.
We pure-blood families hold magic and resources passed down for centuries. We should be the ones leading this transformation."
His gaze moved across the crowd as if weighing each person's value.
"Some say this is an age of turmoil. I say it's an age of opportunity.
The strong write the rules. The weak cling to them. We will be the ones who write them.
Pure-blood glory was not handed to us. Our ancestors paid for it with magic, wisdom, and blood. We have a duty to carry that glory forward, and push it higher than it's ever been."
"The Ministry of Magic has grown soft. It lets half-bloods and those born from Muggles act as they please, staining the purity of our world. But now, a great wizard is leading us, clearing away filth and rebuilding order. If each of us offers our strength, nothing will be able to stop us."
It wasn't a raging speech. It didn't need to be. Every line coaxed and guided, tying pure-blood interests to Voldemort's rise in a way that fit what most of the room already wanted to believe.
Regulus watched Abraxas call for unity, and felt mostly unimpressed.
Abraxas was powerful, and clever enough to keep the Malfoys blazing like the sun. But he was ignoring Voldemort's hunger for control, and the narrow cruelty at the heart of him.
Dragon Pox striking Abraxas right when the Malfoys were at their strongest made it difficult not to suspect there was more to it than bad luck.
An ally who became too powerful and too hard to manage was never what Voldemort wanted.
When the speech ended, applause filled the hall. Abraxas gave a small nod and stepped down, immediately surrounded.
The room loosened again. People broke apart, regrouped into new circles, and the quiet trading resumed.
"Regulus." A familiar voice reached him.
Regulus turned and saw Cuthbert's father, the Head of House Avery, approaching with Cuthbert at his side.
Cuthbert wore dark green robes and looked a bit more restrained than he did at school. When he spotted Regulus, something close to warmth flickered in his eyes.
"Mr. Black. Regulus." Head of House Avery smiled, all ease and charm. "Cuthbert's been fortunate to have you looking out for him at school."
"Mr. Cuthbert, you're too kind," Regulus replied.
"Regulus, see you at school." Cuthbert's tone was stiff on purpose, clearly copying the way adults spoke tonight.
Regulus smiled back. "See you at school."
They'd barely moved on when a bright, heated voice cut through the crowd.
"Regulus!"
Bellatrix strode toward him in deep red robes, bold and flamboyant, Rodolphus Lestrange at her side.
He was tall, severe in expression, but his eyes carried the same sharp fanatic light as hers.
They were already engaged, close to marriage, and both among Voldemort's most devoted followers.
"Bella, cousin. Mr. Lestrange." Regulus inclined his head, polite and controlled, giving her none of the enthusiasm she was offering.
"Look at the pride of House Black." Bellatrix grabbed his arm, her grip strong enough to pinch, her gaze blazing.
She raised her voice just enough to pull a few nearby glances. "He's noticed you. That's the highest honor.
House Black should be at the front, always. We should be the ones serving the greatest cause!"