Chapter 32: Slughorn
Horace Slughorn's office was, like the man himself, steeped in a carefully curated air of comfort and affluence.
The room swam with the exotic fragrance of expensive potion ingredients. The walls were lined with photographs of the professor alongside famous witches and wizards. Silver instruments gleamed on his desk, and plush velvet draped every armchair.
"Ah! Regulus, my dear boy, come in, come in!" Slughorn bustled forward, belly leading the way, face wreathed in smiles.
"Sit, sit! A drop of mead? Or perhaps a Lemon Sherbet?"
"Thank you, Professor. I'm fine." Regulus declined politely and settled into the offered chair, posture correct, composure easy.
He studied Slughorn. Shrewd, undeniably — a collector of promising students, the weaver of a vast web of favors and interests.
He prized talent, background, and future utility, yet he also knew when to read the room and avoid risk.
A textbook Slytherin opportunist — not a bad man, simply one who had elevated investment and networking into an art form.
"I heard about the little episode in the common room last night." Slughorn rubbed his hands together, gooseberry-green eyes practically glinting.
"The Travers boy — dear me, always so impulsive, so unpolished. But you handled it very well, very properly. You displayed the bearing one expects of the House of Black." 'He's calling what I did "proper"?' Regulus was privately amused — and slightly baffled. 'I ground the boy into the floor. Am I supposed to take "Black bearing" to mean bullying?'
But he only listened quietly, offering a small nod of thanks for the praise.
"I believe that with your gifts and temperament, you are destined to become a figure of great consequence in the wizarding world." Slughorn lowered his voice and leaned in, assuming the pose of bosom confidence.
"I do so enjoy watching outstanding young people shine. Should you ever need assistance in Potions — or in any other area — my little club, my collection, even some of my... modest connections... are always open to you."
Regulus understood perfectly. Slughorn was carefully avoiding any mention of Voldemort, but he liked Regulus's prospects in the coming new order and was willing to invest early.
Beneath the clarity in his mind, Regulus arranged his face into the appropriate degree of youthful modesty. "Thank you for your regard, Professor.
As it happens, I am curious about a somewhat obscure branch of Potions, and I'd be grateful for your guidance."
"Oh? Do tell!" Slughorn's eyes brightened further.
"In some very ancient family manuscripts on ritual ceremonies," Regulus chose his words with care, making his tone that of an earnest, knowledge-hungry student, "there were descriptions of presiding ritualists painting complex totems or runes onto their skin — said to grant a brief connection with certain forces.
I wonder: could the material used for such external inscriptions be achieved through a potion?
For instance — processing ingredients with specific properties into a form that can be safely applied to skin and slowly release its effects?"
Slughorn stroked his double chin, thinking in earnest.
"A fascinating hypothesis... very old, very niche.
Direct magical-rune inscription is extremely hazardous, but through a potion medium...
Hmm, there are records. Northern wizards of antiquity, for example, applied salves compounded from dragon blood, troll-heart powder, and frost-bloom to gain strength — though the side effects were severe.
For something safe, long-lasting, and targeted... that touches on ingredient stability, dermal permeability, controlled magical release.
And, oh, preventing magical confliction and backlash... quite a complex subject, my boy."
The more he spoke, the more animated he became — clearly drawn in by the academic rigor of the question.
"But not impossible!
I recall an appendix in 'Esoteric Pharmacopoeia' mentioning a foundational carrier formula.
And in Africa, Wagadou medicine-men have a tradition of mixing specific plant saps with mineral powders to draw runes — said to enhance magical resistance... I'll need to look into my references, do some extrapolation."
He turned an eager gaze on Regulus. "If you're genuinely interested in this direction, perhaps over the holidays we could conduct some safe, purely theoretical discussions and basic formula trials.
With absolute caution, of course!"
"That is exactly what I hoped for, Professor." Regulus inclined his head. "Thank you for your guidance."
Leaving Slughorn's office, Regulus felt a pulse of quiet elation. A key plank had been laid beneath an idea still under construction.
At lunchtime, two owls of markedly different character landed before Regulus almost simultaneously, each dropping a letter of different weight.
The first was from Walburga. Wild handwriting, brimming with passion:
"My proud son!
The news has reached us — you bested a challenger and upheld the dignity and glory of the House of Black! Well done! This is how a Black heir should act! Silence the doubters!
The family is proud of you! Your father and I could not be more so!
Continue to display your power. Let everyone see that the House of Black will occupy the vanguard's seat in the great transformation to come!
We stand ready to answer the great gentleman's call — to fight for the pure-blood future! You shall be our sword and our glory!
Stay sharp, my Regulus! Remember your mission and your blood!"
Every line blazed with undisguised fanaticism, pride, and endorsement of Voldemort's cause. Regulus calmly folded the letter.
The second was from Orion. Handwriting measured and restrained:
"Regulus:
I have heard of your recent performance. When displaying ability, be mindful of proportion. Do not make enemies lightly.
Slytherin's interpersonal landscape is complex. Strength is the foundation, but flexibility and good judgment are what sustain one in the long run.
The situation outside grows increasingly tense. Family affairs are complicated. Your mother's stance is currently... enthusiastic. Keep that in mind.
Focus on your studies and on developing your abilities. Hogwarts is still relatively stable for now — make good use of its resources.
Enclosed: an updated access key for the Library. You may now consult shelves seven through twelve.
Knowledge brings not only power, but wisdom."
Two letters. Two diametrically opposed attitudes and expectations.
Regulus pocketed both. He knew: his father was warning him that the storm was coming, while his mother was already eager to hurl herself into it.
......
At the Gryffindor table, a certain stretch of bench had turned distinctly somber.
Sirius Black was savagely stabbing at his mashed potatoes, face dark.
Of course he had heard about Regulus.
Shock — a little. But not entirely unexpected. He'd always known his younger brother was different; he simply hadn't imagined the scale.
What soured his mood was not jealousy over his brother's achievement or ability, but a deeper unease.
The more brilliantly Regulus performed — the more perfectly he matched Slytherin's and the pure-blood circle's expectations — the likelier he was to attract that person's notice, to be dragged into that dark vortex.
The thought of Regulus one day donning a Death Eater's black robes and standing behind that man made Sirius's chest constrict.
Even though he had long since braced himself for the possibility.
"Hey, Sirius — drop the face." James Potter clapped his best friend heartily on the shoulder, assuming Sirius was irritated by a Slytherin snake's moment in the spotlight.
"So he beat some fifth-year dolt — big deal! Nobody rates the Travers kid anyway. Your brother just got lucky and used a few dirty tricks."
Sirius shook his head but said nothing.
James took the silence for agreement. His eyes gleamed and he dropped his voice: "Relax, mate. I've had it with him since the train — that whole act.
I wrote to my dad and he told me: that technique of solidifying a spell mid-air, rare as it is, has to have weaknesses — either massive energy cost or vulnerability to rapid-fire attacks.
Remus, Peter, and I have already talked it over. We'll find the right moment and give him a nice reminder. Sort him out for you!"
Sirius's head snapped up: "James, don't—"
"Relax, we'll keep it in bounds!" James cut in, brimming with confidence, and winked. "Won't put you in an awkward spot. We'll catch him alone, be quick about it, guaranteed to leave an impression."
Lupin, beside them, frowned slightly. He seemed about to say something, but looking at James's excited face and Sirius's dark mood, he settled for a quiet sigh.
Peter nodded nervously, beady eyes darting.
Sirius looked at the delighted James. The words of protest made it to the tip of his tongue — and were swallowed.
He knew James was doing it for his sake, and once James set his mind to something, there was little chance of talking him out of it.
More importantly, buried in some shadowed corner of his own heart, he felt a flicker of dark curiosity — a desire to see whether James and the others could actually push Regulus into showing more of what he was capable of.