38

"I think I scared your friends," said Regulus. Eli came up to him, and he made room for him, and the three of his classmates immediately backed away, giving Eli Room to walk freely. It was clear that they were obeying regulus.

And Regulus showed a high degree of respect for Eli by walking next to him and asking, "Where are we going next?"

"The library," said Eli succinctly. "I got held up today. I'm going there now."

If his friends could see him now, they would be surprised at how much he has changed. His usually gentle eyes and eyebrows, which had not made much expression, seemed somehow distant, and he walked with the Slytherin, it didn't seem out of place at all -- perhaps because the Poker Face indifference with which he now carried himself strangely coincided with the nobility that pure-blood families admired.

"You are more of a L^′Estrange than Rodolfo and lapastan, Eli," said Regulus, "I'm not talking about L^′Estrange now. There's almost nothing left in this generation but the stupid arrogance of Pureblood families. But every pureblood family has had its moments, and so have the L^′Estrange family. They are the ancestors who led the family to prosperity, the heroes who fought against the evil forces, sleeping in the L^′Estrange family cemetery. You'll be appreciated and welcomed, Eli."

"Until then, perhaps I'll be banished from the family," Eli said flatly, "Every pureblood family upholds the purity of their bloodline from the bottom of their heart, even if they do not have the Blake tapestry that removes all those who defile their bloodline."

It was Sirius who told me about the tapestry, and his expression showed that he was quite disapproving of it.

Regulus was silent for a moment. He did not answer directly, but said, "If you are strong enough, then in the hearts of others, you are the first name on the tapestry of your family."

"Even a family of full-blooded wizards?" Eli asked, pulling open a library chair and sitting in a corner.

"Even the family of pure-blood Wizards," said Regulus, sitting across from him.

They looked at each other face to face, and Regulus smiled at him.

"You don't quite understand, Eli," he said seriously, "There can not be absolute equality in this world. There must be a difference in wealth and status in the Society of Intelligent Life. If someone has to have a higher social status and access to social resources, then everyone wants to be part of their family-that's what the pure-blood witch family has been trying to do all these years. It's taken every generation of family members over thousands of years to get to where we are. If you're good enough, no matter who your father is, a family like this can't refuse you, because your family knows that you will lead the family into the light."

"You are a true believer in bloodism," said Eli, not turning over his book, as he and Regulus engaged in a very serious conversation, quietly, at opposite ends of the square table, "You think that Voldemort's philosophy will lead to a better future for your family, and that's a choice no one would be too smart to make."

Regulus looked at him.

"Right."

Eli leaned back a little, adjusted his posture to be more relaxed, raised his palm, and looked at his left arm.

"You are appreciated by him," he said. "Voldemort sent you to persuade me."

"Not exactly," said Regulus in a low voice, leaning a little closer to him.

"I feel in my heart that you should be on our side," he said earnestly, "Because you are undeniably good."

Eli didn't look at him. He was still looking at his arm.

"You got the dark mark from him," he whispered, "I have a friend who has always been interested in him and thinks that by following him you can become powerful quickly and get money, status, fame, and everything he wants. He has extraordinary gifts and talents, and he should have made a name for himself at your college... ... But he's not even qualified to meet him. You've earned his personal mark, officially joined the Noble Death Eaters, and left the school's Slytherin in awe."

"Is this because you're better than my friend in the third grade, Regulus?" He asked with understatement

"It's because of my good family," said Regulus. "There's only so much you can do. I'm proud of my family."

"Siris, Sardinia doesn't think so."

"That's because he lacks the necessary sense of identity and mission for the family," Regulus said, pausing, firmly. "I think it's indispensable."

Eli looked at him silently for a moment.

"Can I see that symbol on your arm?" He asked Regulus. "I've heard it many times in Saint Mungo. He's a nightmare for almost everyone in the wizarding world these days

Without a word, regulus placed his left arm on the table and lifted the wizard's robe from his arm.

A fist-sized mark of the Black Devil was imprinted on it, and the skull spat out an ominous python. Eli looked down for a moment. It didn't move. It wasn't the same color or texture as the one hanging from the roof. But they all had one thing in common: the dark mark, your life will be in Voldemort's hands.

"Do you think it's a Talisman?" He asked Regulus.

Regulus hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "You could say that."

"Even if it comes at the cost of ruining the lives of other families?" Eli asked him.

Regulus took a deep breath.

"No," he said firmly, "The Blake family doesn't need to take someone else's life to honor itself, and neither does the dark lord -- the current turmoil is temporary, and as soon as our ideas gain mainstream acceptance and a new social order is established, everything will be back to normal. I think, I think... ... There's no need to panic."

Eli looked at him quietly for a long time.

"Your ideas are admirable, Regulus, but the reality is often less so," he said coolly, rising to his feet, "I don't know about you, but I'm curious about one thing-come with me."

What? Regulus got up and followed him out of the library. "Have you studied boggart?" Eli asked him

"Yes," said Regulus truthfully, "Professor William taught us the pages of the book and kept the assignment."

"You didn't come into contact with the boggart, did you?" Eli led him up to the eighth floor, to an empty corridor, walked back and forth three times, opened a door that appeared out of nowhere on the wall, and entered first, "We used a boggart in class last year, and the Abrahamic religion decided to keep it for next year's class because it wasn't convenient to leave it anywhere else," he says. But the Abrahamic religion pox came on so fast, he obviously didn't have time to talk to Professor William. ... I don't know exactly where it is, but we can look for it."

They searched the You Asked for It room for a while and finally found a slightly vibrating cabinet in the corner. Borget, who had apparently been starved of food that year, was so excited to find two living people near him that he was shaking with his chest.

"I'm curious about your fear," Eli said, pulling out his wand and aiming it at the cabinet. "Remember the spell is funny -- Arahoy Open."

The closet door opened silently, and a black fog shot out of it and came to Regulus.

Before he could react, Borget was transformed into a bloodied Siris, Sardinia, staring blankly into a void.

Regulus drew a sharp breath, and his face turned pale. His hand, which was clutching his wand, trembled as he lifted it, but halfway up, Boggart changed again, and Wolbuga knelt on the ground, his hair disheveled, looking at him in horror, as a green light appeared out of nowhere and struck her, the expression on her face froze instantly, and she fell lifeless to the ground before him, dying ungracefully.

Regulus seemed to have completely forgotten the incantation. He backed away, Borget pursued, and became the death of his father -- and then, suddenly and without warning, it changed again, this time into himself; Regulus with blood all over his face. Blake, holding his wand firmly in his hand, with a grin and a Nothing Really Matters indifference, held it high and pointed at him.

The Real Regulus flung his wand aside and stood unarmed, looking incredulously at his opposite self aiming it at him, shouting out the incantation clearly and coldly.

"Avada --"

A hand reached out from the side and shoved him to one side.

Regulus stumbled and fell to the ground. His pupils dilated, his face still throbbing with fear, and he watched as Borget came up to him and changed again.

A middle-aged man with dark hair was lying on the ground, convulsing in pain and suffering from a cruciatus curse. He was driven up to the ceiling and into every corner of the room, his limbs and torso twisted into a Psycho shape by the force of the impact. Regulus realized that this was his father, and that the torture he had been so lucky not to have seen was cruelly reproduced by Borget.

Eli raised his wand and pointed it at the boggart, but it was now ramming around at high speed, making it difficult to aim. Regulus tried to stand up to help, and just then Borget changed again, and this time he recognized him: Lynda. Smith crouched on the ground in agony, still holding on to someone under him. The spell rained down on her. She was alive, but she did not move at all. The man under her was stiff and seemed to have stopped breathing.

Eli finally aimed at boggart this time, but just before he uttered the spell, Borget changed again.

A girl whom Regulus did not know appeared: about their age, not very beautiful, with blonde hair and light eyes.

Eli's wand paused in mid-air, as if he had not expected to see it. The blonde smiled sweetly at him, and the next moment, her eyes, ears, and mouth began to bleed, and she fell to the ground in pain, too, she began to drift uncontrollably into the Shoot'Em Up of the room, and she ended up banging against a sharp stone pillar, pierced by life, frozen there in horror, blood gushing.

"Comical!" Eli snapped, and for the first time Regulus heard a tremor in his voice.

Borget changed again, and it didn't become a funny sight. She was still the blonde girl she had just been, and her body had recovered as if it had never been injured. She looked at Eli with an impertinent arrogance, a look of disgust in her eyes, a strange look in her eyes. She stepped back indifferently, and without her focused gaze and gentle smile, she seemed to have no idea who he was.

Eli held his wand at her, froze for a few seconds, and then said, "Hilarious."

After a loud bang, the girl disappears, leaving behind a film poster of her bloody past, written in exaggerated lettering: "Shock and awe, Penny.". Ivans, haunted house.

Eli picks up the movie poster from the floor, quickly rolls it up, hurls it into the closet, and slams the door behind him.

"I'm sorry." He stared at the closet for a moment, then turned to face him, "I had some success with burlesque in class last year, but this boggart may have changed a bit when he came to me for the second time."

He said it himself, then fell silent for a moment, turned around, and looked deeply into the closet.

"I'm a little different from last year," he said, lowering his eyes a little and looking calm, as if he had known this was going to happen.

Regulus shook his head silently, indicating that he had nothing to laugh about. He stooped, picked up his wand, and was silent for a moment.

"It was a fantasy, but every similar wound, Voldemort and Death Eater, had actually done it. The fifth floor of San Mungo is almost an exhibition of his crimes, showing how many families and lives he has destroyed. There may not be your parents in it, but other people's parents are also parents. Some people care the most in the world. I hope you can understand that it is not just a change of times that can erase everything that everyone has suffered."

He listened to Eli in silence, and Eli paused after saying this, "The last thing you saw in Bogart was yourself becoming a demon with blood on your hands. You Don't care about the lives of others. You kill and torture for fun. That's your deepest fear. You're afraid of becoming that person."

Regulus gripped his wand and cut him off firmly.

"No," he said, to Eli and to himself, "I will not be an executioner, not at all."

"But you know it's quite possible," Eli said quietly, "You're a Death Eater, and that's what Death Eaters do every day. I don't know if you're that special, but maybe I'd like you to prove yourself right, and if the dark mark really is a talisman, then maybe I'd be impressed with Voldemort and seriously consider joining him."

He turned and walked out, then stopped a few steps, turned his face sideways, and glanced at Regulus, who seemed to be in a trance.

"Anyway, I suggest you get some really smart, thinking friends to think about it," Eli said dryly, "With all due respect, the ones who are always behind you don't seem to have mastered the difficult skill of thinking. If the so-called pure-blood families produce such people, it seems that there is no need for research, just go with the flow."

After that day, Eli hadn't seen Regulus for some time. To be precise, Regulus had stopped looking for him-after frequent appearances at the beginning of the semester and numerous attempts to win him over, Regulus had recently quieted down and stopped showing up.

But now he was faced with a new One Hour Photo -- Cyrus. Blake pushed the portrait out of the common room and walked straight towards him, punching him hard.

"Sirius!" Both James and Remus tried to stop him, but they didn't. In a moment of crisis, Eli quickly cocked his head, rubbed his fist against his cheek, and slammed it against the wall behind him.

"Rude," Eli said dryly, without changing his tone or expression. His Poker Face seemed to anger Siris, Sardinia even more, his fist still against the wall, his face looking down on him coldly, his face full of indignant sneer and disgust.

"It's a shame your last name isn't L^′Estrange, isn't it?" He asked softly, with a sneer of contempt, "Now You're getting ready to serve Voldemort, aren't you? The first step is to get your friends together, your old friend Severus Snape and your new friend Regulus? They've made friends. What a touching sight. Have you and your snivellus been waiting for this?"

"Your brother is free to make friends with whomever he wants," Eli said deadpan, "If you want to be a good brother from now on and really care about your brother, then go and find out what he's thinking instead of throwing a tantrum because you don't like his friends. That won't have any effect. It'll only make you look stupid if you don't use your brain."

Siris, Sardinia's eyes narrowed slightly. He was, for a moment, very much like his mother, in his unconscious pride and loathing.

"Are they accusing me of clinging to Slytherin?" He asked softly.

"I'm accusing a fool of being worse than someone he despises," Eli said drily. "Yes, you are."