Chapter 72: Ideology, and the Second Legacy
"No reason?" Regulus cut in and offered an argument: "Principal contradictions and secondary contradictions transform into each other. The principal and secondary aspects of a contradiction likewise shift.
Right now the principal contradiction may be pure-blood versus mixed-blood. But once that stage is reached, internal consolidation of power will become the new principal contradiction."
Orion's head snapped up. He stared at Regulus.
In those eyes — shock, doubt, and a complex tangle of emotions impossible to name.
His lips moved, about to speak, then he swallowed the words.
A long pause before he finally replied — voice low even in privacy: "Where did you read that book?"
This time it was Regulus who was caught off guard. He hadn't expected Orion to recognize the reference.
He'd quoted it unconsciously, feeling the theory was the most concise way to articulate his logic — but never imagining his father would understand.
"Just something I picked up." Regulus said vaguely. "Political philosophy. Some interesting perspectives."
Orion studied him for a long time, then shook his head, an expression on his face very close to awe. "His works are... incisive, indeed." His tone softened, touched with reminiscence.
"I stumbled on them in a Muggle bookshop when I was young. At the time they simply seemed novel. But after years of experience, revisiting those ideas... I finally understood why certain people could accomplish great things."
An odd feeling surged through Regulus.
He hadn't expected that in this magical world, in a pure-blood-supremacist House of Black, his father had read those books — and grasped their value.
The thought passed in a flash.
Orion steered back to the subject: "Your conjecture — what probability?"
"I don't know." Regulus said honestly. "Perhaps thirty percent. Perhaps fifty.
But with something like this, even a one-percent chance should be treated as a certainty. If Abraxas truly meets with misfortune, it means the wind has changed."
"The wind..." Orion's eyes narrowed as he repeated the word.
"From cooperation to control." Regulus said.
"From courting allies to purging dissent. Old Malfoy's death — if it truly happens that way — will be a signal.
Telling every pure-blood house: submit completely, or be eliminated. No middle ground."
Orion was silent for a long while.
He walked to the bookshelf, pulled out a heavy genealogy, and turned to the pages recording modern family ties. His finger traced the Malfoy entry, then paused at the Black family's position.
"If it really goes the way you describe," he asked, voice low and measured, "what should we do?"
"Wait." Regulus's tone was resolute.
"Wait for it to happen. Wait for Lucius to inherit. Wait for him to feel the pressure. Wait for him to realize that money alone isn't enough — that he needs genuine allies. Then we make our move."
He added: "Narcissa is my cousin. That tie makes the Malfoys and the Blacks natural allies. It's just that while old Malfoy was in charge, the two houses dealt as equals.
Under Lucius, we can offer what he needs."
"What, exactly?" Orion asked, though he already understood his son's intent.
"Wisdom. Experience. Strength. Connections." Regulus said.
"And most importantly — how to preserve a family through the storm. These are things Lucius doesn't have now, and likely never will on his own. We do."
Orion closed the genealogy and returned it to the shelf.
He walked back behind his desk and looked at Regulus, a faint gleam of pride in his eyes.
"Lucius, as a person," Orion began slowly, "is sharp, socially adept. But as you say, he lacks his father's depth of foresight.
He tends to pursue immediate benefit over long-term positioning. From a family standpoint, he hasn't done anything too egregious — at least not publicly. But..."
He continued: "Last year the Ministry proposed a magical-creature protection bill. It would have passed. Lucius spent ten thousand Galleons lobbying it down.
The reason? Several families were smuggling those creatures and offered him a cut.
There was also a Muggle-born Ministry employee up for promotion. Lucius sabotaged it behind the scenes; the person was eventually forced to resign.
No real reason — just felt that a Muggle-born shouldn't climb that high."
Orion shook his head. "These things are neither huge nor trivial. In pure-blood circles they'd even be praised as 'looking after one's own.' But stack enough of them up, and eventually they plant a hazard somewhere."
Regulus nodded. "Which is exactly why he needs allies. One person's mistakes carry consequences; a group's mistakes spread the cost."
"You understand a great deal." Orion had no idea how his son had acquired this kind of thinking. Magical education certainly didn't foster it.
This was pure intellect — nothing to do with magic.
The conversation had gone deep enough.
Orion indicated he would keep an eye on the Malfoy situation and begin appropriate preparations.
He told Regulus: "Go rest. School starts tomorrow."
"Right."
Regulus left the study.
......
Back in his room, Regulus felt unexpectedly stirred. The conversation had resonated.
A rare ripple in his composure. He sat at his desk, closed his eyes, and let his consciousness descend into the deepest reaches of his mind.
Star-orbit meditation engaged; the vast celestial imagery smoothed away the clutter of thought.
Once his equilibrium was fully restored, he opened his eyes and turned to practical matters.
Everything that could be said about the Malfoys had been said. His father would handle it.
What demanded his attention now was something more concrete — advancing his strength.
Half a day remained of the holiday. Enough for one task: obtaining his second legacy.
The first — Nature Magic — had opened a new direction but lacked immediate combat utility.
He needed something effective in live combat right away. Spatial magic fit perfectly, and the family legacies happened to contain just such a discipline.
The Spatial Anchoring Charm.
Regulus rose and headed for the family vault. By now he had access to most of the household's restricted areas.
He met no obstacles. He pushed open the black obsidian door and entered the spacious, solemn chamber.
On the stone dais, a dozen-odd Memory Orbs glimmered faintly silver under the magical torchlight.
His fingers touched the cold sphere. A torrent of memory and magic flooded into his consciousness.
The ancestor who left this legacy had lived in the fourteenth century — an era when spatial-magic research reached a pinnacle.
Her Spatial Anchoring Charm was not, at its core, an offensive or defensive spell. It was stabilization magic for spatial structures.
The principle: plant invisible magical anchor-points in the void, fixing the surrounding space's framework.
Two effects. First: resist Apparition ambushes — unlike the modern Anti-Apparition ward.
Within anchor range, space became extraordinarily viscous. Forcing an Apparition in was like leaping into setting concrete — movement drastically slowed, often failing outright.
Second: stabilize spatial structure, countering spells that tried to twist, tear, expand, or fold space — severely blunting their effect.
In the memories, Regulus watched his ancestor's combat footage.
Facing a Dark wizard who specialized in Apparition ambushes, she first laid three spatial anchors around herself.
When the enemy attempted to Apparate behind her, his body materialized only to jam in mid-air — trapped as though mired in invisible quicksand. A single Severing Curse from her finished the fight.
In another scene, an adversary tried to use spatial-distortion magic to rend her apart. But the anchors held the surrounding framework firm; the distortion occurred only beyond anchor range. She stood at the center, unscathed.
The legacy-memory immersion lasted roughly half an hour.
When Regulus withdrew his fingers, fine beads of sweat dotted his brow.
Absorbing two legacies in quick succession taxed the mind heavily. He could feel a dull throbbing deep in his consciousness — as though too much had been crammed in, needing time to settle and integrate.
But he already understood the core principle of spatial anchoring.
Drive a knot of magic into the spatial fabric, making that region of space stable, rigid, nearly immovable.
Anchor placement was freely chosen. Quantities could be stacked. Coverage could be adjusted.
In theory, with enough anchors laid densely enough, one could create a zone in which spatial magic was entirely forbidden.
House-elves and Portkeys would both falter. Whether a phoenix could still slip through — unknown. But the Starry Sky Kite would struggle.
Regulus left the vault and returned to his room.
He sat on the edge of his bed, letting the knowledge settle. Too much content — it needed time to organize.
Outside the window, London's night skyline lay tranquil. In the distance, Big Ben tolled ten o'clock — the chimes filtering through the magical barrier, muffled and lingering.
Regulus lay back and closed his eyes.
The past days replayed in his mind. Knockturn Alley's darkness. The crucible of live combat. The conversation with his father. The acquisition of the second legacy.
Every experience had pushed him forward. Every one had sharpened his edge.
The holiday was over. Tomorrow — back to Hogwarts.
Sleep.