Alex stood beside Cuthbert. This time, when he looked at Hermes Mulciber, he didn't avert his eyes.
He had never liked his gloomy dormmate. But seeing him lying there in the hospital bed, pale and hollow, something shifted inside him. The long-standing timidity that used to weigh on his chest had been replaced.
It wasn't exactly courage.
It was closer to what Cuthbert felt. Once you've been through something real, you stop feeling so small.
His lips moved. He didn't have Cuthbert's swagger.
"Get well soon," he said quietly.
They didn't stay long. Madam Pomfrey hadn't set a time limit today, but the three of them were already turning to leave after less than five minutes.
As Regulus stepped away from the bed, Hermes suddenly spoke. His voice rasped like sandpaper.
"…Thank you."
Regulus didn't turn around. He only lifted a hand in acknowledgment and walked out.
Outside the Hospital Wing, they ran into Abros Mulciber.
He still wore that dark, patterned black robe, standing in the corridor's shadow like a statue carved from stone.
Regulus slowed. "You two go ahead," he said to Cuthbert and Alex.
Cuthbert glanced at Abros, then back at Regulus, and nodded.
He and Alex gave Abros a slight bow in greeting before hurrying off down the hall.
Silence settled once they were gone.
Abros didn't speak. He simply turned and walked toward a corner near the stairwell. Regulus followed.
They stopped in a blind spot beside the staircase. No portraits. No passing students.
"Dumbledore came yesterday morning," Abros said at last, his voice low and even. "He lifted the curse from Hermes."
Regulus waited.
"He said nothing else."
The meaning was clear.
Dumbledore had come. He had handled the curse. But he hadn't pursued the Mulciber family's responsibility, nor had he mentioned the details beneath the Astronomy Tower.
Perhaps it was an exchange. Or an understanding.
Regulus believed that whatever opportunity Dumbledore had offered, Abros would seize it.
Abros's gaze settled on him. His gray-brown eyes churned with restrained emotion.
"In the future, Hermes will need more of your guidance."
Regulus's thoughts sharpened instantly.
That wasn't a simple request to let Hermes tag along.
Was the Mulciber family taking a stance?
Do they think I stand with Dumbledore?
This wasn't like the old transaction with Borgin and Burkes. They wanted Black family support in the Wizengamot.
The Mulcibers likely wanted something else. A safer position under Dumbledore's attention.
Dumbledore had spoken with Abros. The content was unknown. The result was obvious. Hermes was being placed closer to Regulus.
It was speculation.
But Regulus suspected he wasn't wrong.
Dumbledore was raising the stakes around him.
"Understood," Regulus replied evenly.
Abros gave a slight nod and left without another word.
---
That morning's Potions class was shared with Gryffindor.
Professor Slughorn was teaching a strengthening draught. The ingredient tables held viper fangs, dried nettles, horned caterpillars, and jars of oddly colored pus.
Regulus partnered with Alex. Alex's hands were quick enough, but when it came to crushing the viper fangs, he hesitated, lacking decisiveness.
Regulus handled the brewing.
The liquid in the cauldron shifted from inky green to brownish-yellow, then settled into a deep, molten-caramel brown. Smooth and even.
No bubbles broke the surface. The viscosity was balanced. Leaning closer, one could smell a sharp but stable sulfur note.
Slughorn strolled over and dipped a silver spoon into the potion, holding it up to the light.
The liquid coated the spoon in a thin, even film. The color was pure. The transparency just right.
"Perfect!" Slughorn beamed. "Color, consistency, aroma. All precisely as required, even better than expected. Ten points to Slytherin!"
A few muffled gasps rose around the classroom.
Across the room, Mary Macdonald flashed Regulus a thumbs-up. He inclined his head slightly in return.
Alphard Prewett gave a faint snort and bent back over his own cauldron, which was still bubbling unevenly.
When the bell rang, students packed up and filed out.
Regulus remained seated. Cuthbert and Alex followed his lead.
Once the classroom emptied, leaving only the three of them, Regulus stood and approached the front.
Slughorn was organizing ingredients. He looked up, eyebrows lifting.
"Professor," Regulus began, "we owe you an apology regarding Hermes Mulciber."
Slughorn stepped around the desk, folding his hands over his stomach.
"We knew he went to the Astronomy Tower," Regulus continued. "We didn't report it in time. We wanted to uncover the truth ourselves."
Cuthbert reacted quickly, stepping half a pace forward. "We were wrong, Professor."
"Sorry," Alex added softly.
Slughorn studied them. His smile faded slightly, but there was no anger in his eyes.
After a few seconds of silence, he spoke.
"It's natural for young wizards to be curious. To want to prove they can solve things on their own. I did much the same in my youth, though nothing quite as dangerous as this."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice.
"But you must understand. The professors at Hogwarts are not here merely to teach you how to stir a cauldron or wave a wand.
We are also responsible for ensuring you leave this school alive. Some secrets remain secrets because they truly are lethal."
His gaze swept across the three of them.
"If you encounter something like this again, come to me first. Or to another professor. That isn't weakness. It's wisdom. Understood?"
"Understood," Regulus said.
"Good." Slughorn's smile returned. He opened a drawer and took out a crystal vial filled with golden liquid. "One drop each before bed. It will steady your nerves and dispel lingering negative effects."
They accepted the vial, thanked him, and left.
Once they emerged from the dungeon, Cuthbert let out a breath. "I thought he'd dock points."
"He won't," Regulus said. "He wanted the attitude."
"What attitude?" Alex asked.
"Admit the mistake and ready to accept guidance. Don't repeat it," Regulus replied calmly.
That was the official answer.
Privately, Regulus thought, recognize the mistake, correct it… and if necessary, commit it again.
That afternoon's Herbology lesson took place in Greenhouse Three. They were fertilizing Puffapods.
Professor Sprout wore thick dragon-hide gloves, demonstrating how to sprinkle dragon dung evenly around the roots without provoking the pods into releasing corrosive slime.
Regulus was assigned an especially plump Puffapod.
He crouched down, pressing one hand against the pod's outer shell to keep it from wriggling, while using a small trowel to loosen the soil around the roots.
At the same time, he extended his magical perception.
He could sense the lively, almost mischievous vitality within the pod, and the rough but pure magical energy contained in the dragon dung.
The moment the two made contact, the pod shivered slightly. A healthy oil-green sheen spread across its surface.
After class ended and the other students left, Regulus remained in the greenhouse.
Professor Sprout was watering a pot of Screechsnap when she noticed him.
"Is there something you need, Mr. Black?"
"Yes, Professor." He approached. "I have a question about magical plant attributes."
She set down her watering can and wiped her hands on her apron. "Go on."
"If magic can have opposing attributes, such as light and dark, do plants possess similar properties?
Is there a plant that naturally suppresses dark magic, or perhaps fosters hope?"
Sprout regarded him with curiosity, though there was approval in her expression as well.
She led him deeper into the greenhouse.
They stopped before a row of shelves against the wall. Several clay pots held unassuming silver grass, with slender leaves edged in fine serrations.
"Moonlight Orchid," Sprout said. "It blooms only on full moon nights. The petals glow like moonlight, their color shifting with the month.
It has a repelling effect on certain low-tier dark creatures, such as the carrion parasites that accompany Inferi."
She gently brushed a leaf with her gloved fingers.
"More importantly, its pollen can be refined into a calming draught. It stabilizes the mind and helps resist minor spiritual corrosion.
St Mungo's frequently uses it to treat emotional trauma following Dark Magic injuries."
Regulus examined the plant closely. Fine down covered the leaves, giving them a pearly sheen under the greenhouse lights.
"But it can't counter something on the level of a Dementor, correct?" he asked respectfully.
Dementors were extreme negative magic. Despair incarnate.
Sprout shook her head.
"No. Moonlight Orchid offers support and relief. To confront darkness of that magnitude, you would need something far more extreme."
"Like what, Professor?" Regulus pressed.