Chapter 48: A Talk with Narcissa
About ten minutes later, Narcissa arrived.
She didn't sit. She stood beside the sofa, looking down at Regulus. The firelight gilded her fair hair in warm tones, but her eyes were dead serious.
"You startled me today." Narcissa's voice was soft.
"Did I?" Regulus looked up. He knew what she meant.
Cousin Narcissa valued family far more than Bella ever had. She had cautioned him more than once about showing restraint when displaying his abilities.
Even before he entered Hogwarts, she had repeatedly shared lessons drawn from her own experience. Regulus could feel genuine familial concern behind it, which was why he always showed her a little more sincerity.
But Regulus had his own considerations. He was not truly a child.
"It's not a bad thing." Narcissa sat down beside him, every movement graceful.
"I just... suddenly realized you've grown up. Uncle Orion wrote to me, asked me to keep an eye on you at school. Aunt Walburga mentioned it, too. But now it seems you don't need anyone watching over you."
Regulus said nothing, though his gaze visibly softened. Narcissa continued: "The way you handled things today was very mature — but also very dangerous. You've placed yourself in plain sight. More people will be watching."
"Let them watch." Regulus's tone was firm — deliberately so, to reassure Narcissa. In truth, he was unconcerned.
Privately, his thinking was clearer. As a first-year, yes, he still needed to operate within the rules, mind the professors' scrutiny, and maintain the façade of an outstanding student.
But fundamentally, he did not need to look up to those upper-year students.
Not out of arrogance — out of objective fact. What most of them carried in their heads — the so-called house politics and pure-blood social games — was laughably shallow to him.
In two more years, as a third-year, how precise would his magical control become? How many constellations would Star-Orbit Meditation encompass? How many spells would he command? How powerful would his magic have grown?
By then, his frame of reference would no longer be Hogwarts students but the Ministry's so-called elite Aurors — perhaps even certain professors.
After all, Voldemort had created a Horcrux in his fifth year. Where exactly was the gap?
His gaze had never lingered on the mediocre.
"Cousin Narcissa." Regulus spoke, voice a shade lower. "You worry about me being watched. But consider the reverse — letting them see exactly where I stand might actually be safer."
Narcissa frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"The heir to House Black will have to take a position sooner or later. Rather than letting others guess, probe, and scheme in the shadows, it's better if I set the tone myself. That's stronger than hiding."
He paused, watching her reaction. Seeing no objection, he went on.
"As for choosing sides... Cousin, let's talk about that." Regulus leaned forward a fraction, voice dropping further.
"Cousin Bella's side — Voldemort's side — I know they're recruiting. I understand the Black family's leanings."
Narcissa said nothing, but her eyes told him to continue.
"But I have to ask," Regulus met her eyes directly, "does the House of Black — or the Sacred Twenty-Eight — truly have only two options?"
Narcissa's breath hitched. Regulus hadn't said it outright, but she knew: the two options were pledging allegiance to Voldemort and siding with Dumbledore.
"A family of a thousand years. To have survived a millennium — was it by betting correctly on every upheaval? Or should it not be that, no matter who seizes power, the family endures?"
At this point, he added silently: in canon, the Blacks served as the perfect counterexample. Betting blindly on Voldemort annihilated the family — barely a handful survived.
But that was because of Walburga's fanaticism, Sirius's rebellion, and a cascading series of disastrous decisions.
If he, Regulus, was here, things should not unfold that way.
Narcissa was quiet for a long time. The firelight played across her face — bright, then dark.
"Regulus," her voice equally hushed, "you know that Bella... has earned great trust from the Dark Lord."
Regulus sank back against the sofa, gaze drifting to the leaping flames. His expression was one of perfect composure.
After a few seconds, he turned back to Narcissa.
"Cousin," Regulus said, reversing the question, "does the House of Black need that trust?"
Narcissa froze. This was a question she had never considered.
The House of Black... doesn't need that trust?
But this was Voldemort!
And yet — as Regulus had said — why must a family with a thousand years of history lean one way or another?
Why was everyone, aside from Regulus, debating which side to join?
Whose problem was this, really?!
Regulus continued, tone gradually evening out: "Cousin Bella is a Black. The trust she has earned is, naturally, also the family's resource.
But how that resource is used, by whom, and when — there are many considerations."
He looked at Narcissa evenly, seeing her slightly dazed expression: "You invest for long-term returns. Putting everything on the table for a short-term spike — that's a gambler's move, not an ancient wizarding family's playbook."
This was Regulus's oblique way of suggesting that Voldemort could not last — but he could say only this much, and no more.
Narcissa's pupils contracted slightly. She understood part of it — and suddenly thought of things she had never before noticed.
Bella, of course, had thrown herself body and soul into the Dark Lord's great cause; she herself was everything she had. But from the Black family's perspective, Bella was only one member.
And Regulus was speaking of legacy and the long view.
"You mean..." Narcissa, too, chose her words carefully now. "The Black family shouldn't rely on a single thread?"
"I'm saying," Regulus's voice was gentle, "that if a tree has only one deep root and every other root has withered, what holds it up when the storm hits?"
He met her eyes, grey irises deep in the firelight. "Cousin, the House of Black is not a seedling just breaking ground. We have many roots."
"The Dark Lord needs strength," Regulus circled back to the original point, approaching it from a different angle. "And strength takes many forms.
Fanatical loyalty is one kind. A cool head is another. Warriors who charge the front line are one kind of asset. People who marshal resources and stabilize the rear are a far scarcer kind."
He pressed on: "Cousin Bella has already proven that the Blacks can provide the first. So — what if we can also offer the second?"
Narcissa drew a deep breath. Looking at this eleven-year-old cousin, she felt a sudden chill — the jolt of realizing his thinking ran far deeper than she had imagined.
Throughout, he had not said a single word against allegiance. He had even affirmed the Dark Lord's needs.
But the subtext was crystal clear: the House of Black should join as a partner — even a strategic resource provider — not a mere follower.
It was plainly the smarter approach. And plainly more difficult.
"Have you..." Narcissa's voice had gone slightly hoarse. "...told Uncle Orion any of this?"
Regulus shook his head. "Father will understand."
He thought of the family ring Orion had given him. The key to the private library. The reminder to stay measured.
Orion Black had never been a zealous believer. He was a pragmatic helmsman of his house.
Sending his son into Slytherin, tacitly supporting — even encouraging — Regulus's independence — it was all laying the groundwork for exactly this:
Ensuring that, when the coming storm broke, even if the Blacks boarded the ship, they would sit in a cabin with windows — not locked in the hold.
Narcissa nodded slowly. She understood now — not just Regulus's meaning, but why he had acted as he had today. He was demonstrating the second kind of strength.
Composure. Restraint. The ability to control a situation, to weigh costs and benefits. This was on display for every observer — including, perhaps, the Dark Lord watching from afar.
"I understand." Narcissa's tone was solemn. "So what you need is information — the kind that lets the family make the right calls."
"Exactly." Regulus leaned forward slightly, adopting a posture that conveyed deeper trust.
"Cousin, what we lack right now isn't a stance — it's perspective. If we rely solely on what Bella tells us, it's like navigating with one eye — and that eye is biased."
Narcissa instantly thought of Bella's letters — drenched in fanatical language — and her increasingly extreme behavior. If the Blacks heard only Bella's voice, the consequences would be dire.
"I'll keep watch." Narcissa gave a solemn commitment. "Not just the Malfoys — the Lestranges, other families' movements, Ministry rumors.
Anything of value, I'll pass along."
"Through secure channels," Regulus added. "Or — face to face."
He could not risk sensitive information on paper. Voldemort's need for control was absolute; who knew what surveillance methods he might employ.
Narcissa nodded. "Agreed."
The core of the conversation was now laid out. Regulus relaxed, his tone turning casual: "Cousin — how's old Mister Malfoy doing health-wise?"
He asked naturally, the way a younger relative inquires about an elder.