To process these people, Regulus Black had to sign forty-one documents. Each vehicle carried its own set of files. Looking through them,
To process these people, Regulus Black had to sign forty-one documents. Each vehicle carried its own set of files. Looking through them, he saw one after another labeled as minors, yet all were tall and burly young men. Even Regulus Black couldn't help but feel a moment of pity for the Muggle government.
At this point, the number of refugees was not overwhelming. The real crisis would come twenty years later, when a flood of refugees would cause the Muggle government far greater headaches.
"Mr. Regulus Black! Thank you for everything you're doing for the government. But your staff seems rather few—are you certain they can manage?"
A Muggle government official who had accompanied the transport, after organizing the files, looked toward the line of people entering the asylum. A few staff members were waving batons to direct them along.
"Rest assured," Regulus Black explained with a smile, "every one of these staff knows a bit of hypnosis. They only need to wave a little stick, and the lunatics will waltz on command. They are absolutely professional and compassionate, even if many of them look rather strange."
Hearing him, several members of the Hecatoncheires showed odd smiles. Compared with their appearance, Regulus Black's face seemed like that of an angel descended.
These lunatics, of course, had their uses. Even though their vitality was badly diminished, as long as they were still alive, they would suffice.
Every year, Regulus Black's harem gave him gifts, and naturally he returned the favor.
One year, the Patil sisters from India gave him a mirror: a small silver mirror engraved with an eight-petaled mandala, a motif from Indian culture.
Regulus had already made special preparations for this gift.
The mirror, small enough to fit in a palm, had had its glass removed. The pure silver surface was polished smooth as water, reflecting a clear image and functioning as a mirror. On the back was the eight-petaled mandala pattern, each petal and the center marked with Sanskrit characters.
These inscriptions were believed to drive away demons and evil spirits, though without magical power, they posed no effect on him.
Yet, once he crafted it into a protective amulet, Regulus Black imbued it with strange properties.
[Eight-Petaled Mandala Forbidden Ritual]
Tormented in the flesh, you decide to sacrifice a [???]. Your body is restored to health.
Items left in inventory provide additional benefits.Required sacrifices: 7–77Removes traits: InfirmityRemoves traits: CrippledRemoves traits: InfectionRemoves traits: PoisonedRemoves traits: MadnessRemoves traits: CancerRemoves traits: AgingRemoves traits: Death
By pressing the patterned side of the mirror against a sacrifice, identical wounds would be branded upon them. Then he only needed to gaze into the mirror himself. Through the link of attributes, all negative traits on his own body would be transferred to the sacrifice—even death itself could be shifted. With enough sacrifices, the tool could even resurrect the dead, reducing skeletons to living flesh.
Regulus Black immediately chose seven strong-looking sacrifices and performed the forbidden ritual on them.
Afterward, he dragged forward an elderly witch with physical disabilities to test the mirror's effects.
Over time, the crippled witch began to heal.
The fingers she had lost in a spellcasting mishap grew back.
The skin damaged by potion overdose smoothed until it was soft as silk.
The left eye she had gouged out when cursing another returned whole.
Even her age reversed, her appearance becoming younger.
From a frail, wrinkled crone, she transformed into a twenty-year-old witch.
It seemed the mirror's effect stopped at this point; it could resist aging only up to the prime of life. After all, before the age of twenty, a body is still considered to be growing rather than aging.
Turning back, Regulus saw that the seven sacrifices now bore various disabilities and signs of aging, their left eyes blind.
"Master! Please grant me a harsher contract. Jennifer Hydra vows to serve the Black family for all eternity and never betray you."
The witch, Jennifer Hydra, had regained her youth and beauty. This was a monumental blessing, as many of her injuries—inflicted by the effects of magic—were considered irreversible.
A person's state inevitably changes their mindset. When she grew uglier, she fell deeper into corruption. Now, restored and given a chance at a new life, she feared her heart might falter again.
Once enslaved by Regulus Black, she had resigned herself, unwilling yet reconciled. As an old and hideous witch, to be taken in as a servant by a pure-blood family was an exceedingly rare fortune.
But now everything was different. Could she guarantee she would not betray him? She could not. Perhaps she would.
The very possibility of betrayal filled her with unease. Should she betray and live a new life, or remain and continue in servitude? It was a painful dilemma.
Thus, Jennifer Hydra chose to betray herself first—binding herself completely to the Black family with an unbreakable contract. In this way, she could faithfully serve without temptation or fear of betrayal and its consequences.
Kneeling before Regulus Black, she stripped herself bare.
"Master, brand me with a contract! Engrave it deep into my flesh and bones."
Her expression was one of religious devotion as she knelt, offering herself wholly to him.
Other witches present saw her choice and understood. If they themselves had been restored to youth and health, the same thoughts would arise—start anew, even if it meant betrayal.
It was agonizing. Better to abandon hope entirely and bind themselves to the Black family.
When Jennifer Hydra tore off her clothing in frenzy, the others quietly left the room.
"This magical contract will not grant you immortality. Though your appearance will remain young, your actual lifespan will still reach its end."
Regulus Black ran his hand through her hair. Once pale and brittle, it now gleamed with a soft champagne-gold sheen.
"I am willing to give you everything, Master! My resolve is firm, and even you cannot change my mind."
Jennifer Hydra, tasting what felt like a delicacy she had been deprived of for decades, savored it greedily.
What am I doing? she wondered, suddenly uncertain. She realized she had indulged without her master's explicit permission. Was this not disobedience? Yet he had not stopped her.
If he did not object, then she would partake more. The fullness that came with the indulgence felt wonderful, as though it could fill the emptiness within her soul.
So be it. Let the brand be carved into her body, making her a secret treasure belonging solely to her master.
After her ravenous indulgence, Jennifer Hydra finally tasted the essence of the feast. Before she could savor it, she swallowed it down, feeling regret. If given another chance, she would hold it longer in her mouth, letting her master see how she cherished the gift.
When she came back to her senses, Jennifer Hydra cleaned everything up in fear. Her indulgence had been her own initiative, lacking permission.
Throughout it all, Regulus Black had been pondering what sort of contract to grant her. The thought consumed him, time passing both swiftly and sluggishly, until his mind went blank, nearly forgetting his prior reasoning. When clarity returned, his earlier ideas emerged more vividly than before.
"If you insist on signing a harsher contract, I will grant it. But know this: the contract cannot be undone. It will bind both your body and soul. Whenever you use magic, all will know you belong to me, Regulus Black, revealed without concealment. Do you still agree?"
Regulus Black pressed his hand upon Jennifer Hydra's head as he asked.
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