By the time he left the small garden, the sky had already darkened. Lights began to flicker on in the castle windows one after another; dinner time was approaching.
Regulus quickened his pace, but he encountered someone at the entrance to the greenhouse area.
It was a Hufflepuff girl, a second- or third-year, with her light brown hair tied in a loose bun. She was crouching before a row of flowerpots, carefully loosening the soil for a healing herb with wilting leaves.
"You'll damage the lateral roots doing it that way," Regulus said instinctively, stopping in his tracks.
The girl looked up and blinked. "What?"
"The angle of your trowel is too vertical." Regulus pointed to the small iron trowel in her hand. "The root system of a healing herb spreads outwards horizontally; it doesn't dive deep. Digging vertically will cut the lateral roots."
The girl looked down, realization dawning on her. "No wonder this one hasn't been growing well… Thank you."
She adjusted her angle, inserting it diagonally into the soil instead, gently loosening the earth around it.
"Are you a Slytherin first-year?" she asked while working. "It's rare to see a Slytherin who knows so much about Herbology."
"Regulus Black, first year," he introduced himself simply.
"I'm Eleanor Bones, third year." The girl smiled, revealing a snaggletooth. "The Bones family—you should know us."
She continued, her tone carrying an undisguised, benevolent curiosity. "I know of you, the second Black at Hogwarts.
Before you started school, we—well, I mean, quite a few people—speculated privately whether you'd enter Slytherin like everyone in the House of Black for the last five hundred years,
Or if you'd choose Gryffindor like your brother."
Regulus raised an eyebrow in slight surprise.
He knew that almost every student from a pure-blood family at Hogwarts, and even many professors, were watching his sorting results.
After all, Sirius Black's choice wasn't just personal rebellion; it had shattered a five-hundred-year-old, ironclad tradition of the House of Black.
Five hundred years was such a vast span of time that "Black equals Slytherin" had become an unspoken consensus in the wizarding world.
In this current period of undercurrents where many ancient families were re-evaluating their stances, the sorting of the House of Black heir could even be interpreted by the outside world as some kind of family signal.
Regulus had long been aware of this, and he knew people wouldn't stop gossiping.
In the original story, these discussions would even persist until the House of Black was nearly extinct.
But having someone like Eleanor Bones mention it to his face with such frankness was a first since he'd enrolled.
This young witch from the Bones family was much more direct than any other pure-blood he had encountered.
And the Bones family, Regulus certainly knew of them.
The Bones family was also one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, with a relatively moderate stance; many family members held positions in the Ministry of Magic.
This Eleanor was likely a relative of Amelia Bones, the future Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Regulus did not shy away from her words, his grey eyes looking at her calmly. "It seems the answer is Slytherin. Those speculations can stop now."
Eleanor Bones blinked and then laughed. "Indeed. And it looks like you're adjusting well there."
Regulus didn't pursue the topic further. He pointed at the pot on the ground and said, "Healing herbs like loose soil, but they don't like being moved frequently.
You'd better add a layer of broken ceramic bits at the bottom to improve drainage. The soil in this pot is holding too much water right now; the roots will rot easily."
Eleanor looked at him in surprise. "How can you tell the soil is holding too much water?"
"The leaf edges are curling slightly and the color is a dark green, which are signs of poor root respiration. Furthermore, when you were loosening the soil just now, it clumped together, indicating the water content is too high."
"Merlin, you're right." Eleanor stood up and brushed the dirt off her hands. "I've been using the standard potting soil recipe, but maybe this batch of leaf mold was poor quality.
Thank you for the advice, Mr. Black."
Regulus gave a slight nod.
The two of them spent five minutes exchanging soil-loosening techniques under the fading light.
Eleanor taught him how to use his fingers to feel the soil's density and cultivation methods for several uncommon magical plants.
In exchange, Regulus shared a few simple soil-testing charms—practical little tricks from Garden Maintenance Magic.
Eleanor packed up her tools. "Time to head to the Great Hall. Walk together?"
"Sure."
The two walked side-by-side toward the castle. They encountered a few Hufflepuff students on the way who looked surprised to see Eleanor with a Slytherin, but no one said anything.
As they entered the Great Hall, Eleanor waved goodbye. "See you, Mr. Black."
"Goodbye, Miss Bones."
Regulus walked toward the Slytherin table. As he sat down, Avery leaned over. "What were you chatting about with the Bones girl?"
"Herbology," Regulus answered simply, beginning to serve himself some roast meat. The small experiment earlier had been quite draining; he needed nourishment.
"The Bones family is all right, not too bad," Avery evaluated. "But that Amelia in their family is too much of a stickler at the Ministry; my father doesn't like her."
"Maybe she doesn't like Mr. Cuthbert either," Regulus said.
Avery thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "You're right."
…Just past midnight, Regulus snapped awake from his meditation. It was a magic fluctuation.
He instantly withdrew all his magic, his breathing slowed, and his body remained still, his eyes opening only a tiny sliver.
Across from him, the bed curtains of Hermes Mulciber were gently pulled back.
A black-robed figure slipped out noiselessly, making no sound as he hit the floor.
Hermes stood straight in the darkness, seemingly confirming something. He even walked to each bed and stayed for a moment, including Regulus's.
A minute later, Hermes walked out the dormitory door.
Regulus waited for three minutes before slowly sitting up.
He got out of bed and walked over to Hermes's bed. The curtains were left with a gap. Regulus didn't touch anything, only scanning with his magic perception.
The bed was tidy. Under the pillow was a book with a dark red leather cover and no title. The book had protective charms on it; a forced probe would trigger an alarm.
On the nightstand was an empty glass bottle with a tiny amount of black liquid residue at the bottom. Regulus couldn't recognize what it was, but at the very least, it wasn't a conventional potion.
Hermes's schoolbag sat by the windowsill, the zipper not fully closed, revealing a corner of parchment.
There were no protective charms. Regulus used a magic probe to gently nudge it open.
It was a map—hand-drawn, with rough lines but clear labels.
In the center was the main body of Hogwarts Castle. Several areas were circled. In the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor, it was written: "Explored, no findings."
In the abandoned classroom area on the west side of the dungeons: "Protected, needs breaking."
And there was a room below the Astronomy Tower, marked: "Suspected entrance, to be verified."
Below the Astronomy Tower? That should be the castle's outer wall; there shouldn't be any rooms there.
Unless it was a secret chamber, or a secret passage.
Regulus withdrew his probe and returned to his own bed.
*What was Hermes Mulciber looking for?*
Or rather, what was he looking for on behalf of someone else?
An hour later, at 1:14 a.m., the door was gently opened again.
Hermes returned. His footsteps were heavier than when he left. The hem of his robes had fresh scorch marks, and there was a thin red scratch on the back of his left hand, as if cut by something sharp.
He paused at the door for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping over the three beds.
Confirming no unusual movement, Hermes walked to his bed. As he took off his outer robe, Regulus smelled a faint scent of sulfur.
It was residue from magic fire or some kind of Alchemy reaction.
Hermes pulled the bed curtains shut. The rustling sound of changing clothes came from within, and then everything returned to silence.
Regulus opened his eyes, staring into the darkness of the bed curtains above him.
First year, eleven years old, and already beginning to dabble in dangerous secrets.
The Mulciber family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but they occupied a marginal position.
For generations, the Mulcibers had dealt in the trade of rare magical items; in reality, they were intermediaries for the smuggling and collection of Dark Arts artifacts.
They excelled at walking the edge of the law and had secret collaborations with multiple shops in Knockturn Alley. They didn't seek political power, focusing instead on collecting forbidden knowledge and dangerous magical items.
They didn't publicly support Lord Voldemort, but they privately provided supplies to the Death Eaters.
Was Hermes's behavior a personal interest, or a family mission?
If it was the latter, then the thing he was looking for was very likely related to the upcoming war.
The hooting of an owl came from outside the window, distant and blurred. Regulus didn't think too much more, deciding in his heart to keep a constant watch.
He closed his eyes again and began a new round of magic circulation.
The geometric model of Orion lit up in his mind, and starlight-like magic flowed along the calculated trajectories.
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