Chương 64: Interludes #1 - Regulus vs Lucius(Read After Ch 58)

Lucius Malfoy liked his mornings neat. Curtains parted by elves at the exact angle to let in the winter sun, silver polished until he could see his own disapproval staring back, tea brewed at that precise temperature where it wouldn't burn his tongue but might blister someone less refined. Order. Ritual. Control. So of course Regulus Rosier chose that exact hour to arrive. Not bothering to send an owl or summons. Not even a polite parchment with wax and crest.

Regulus walked casually, didn't announce himself, didn't even pretend to hesitate as he passed through halls lined with velvet drapes and ancestral portraits that sneered at intruders. He was not an intruder. On his mother's side, the deed had been signed with ink and blood, twice removed, and Malfoys knew better than to forget debts. Lucius came down the staircase, stiff.

"Lord Rosier." He greeted with a grate in his voice. Regulus stood at the foot of the stairs, hands folded neatly behind his back, tall and composed. His eyes flicked across the chandelier, the tapestries, the faint scuff on the marble where an elf had been careless. Then back to Lucius with a sneer.

"I heard you picked up a new hobby." Regulus said, staring. Lucius tilted his head slightly, one hand resting over the silver snake of his cane.

"You will have to be more specific."

"Letters," Regulus said, stepping further into the room.

"Charmed, duplicated, hand-delivered to the Board and back again. Clever. Even paid off Goyle and Crabbe, I hear. The old one-two, concern and consensus." He looked around the entrance hall like admiring a painting he intended to sell.

"You've always been fond of orchestration." Lucius didn't deny it, he casually smoothed his sleeve.

"If someone's curriculum is disruptive, I would consider it a civic duty to raise the alarm. Surely you agree."

"I agree," Regulus said, "that you're far too old to be surprised by your own reflection." Lucius exhaled slowly through his nose.

"If this is about Cassian—""It is." Sharp and direct. Regulus didn't like holding his punches. He was too busy for hesitation. Lucius knew that. Had known since they were boys, standing on opposite ends of drawing rooms, taught by fathers who'd both believed in cultivating intellect over sentiment. So he didn't flinch. He only raised a pale brow.

"Cassian, then. What a shame. I had thought we might discuss something of value." Regulus did not take the bait. He waited. Regulus Rosier's silence was rarely empty. It was the pause in chess when a hand hovers over a pawn, a bait. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it"Would you like tea?"

Lucius asked eventually, gesturing toward the parlour with all the bored charm of a man offering hospitality because it was tradition, not because he cared whether it was accepted. Regulus didn't answer, just stared.

"You've been misinformed," Lucius said, brushing a speck of lint from his cuff.

"No letters of mine ever mentioned Cassian... explicitly."

"That's not what I asked." Lucius's mouth curved faintly.

"It's not what I answered." Regulus looked down his nose at him.

"You've made," Regulus said at last, "a grave mistake." Lucius turned away slightly.

"I've made plenty."

"This one concerns my son."

"Yes. The prodigal historian." A brief smile.

"Charmed the children, insulted the staff, and used a Muggle pen in open daylight. Remarkable, truly. I do enjoy a good academic scandal."

"You forget yourself."

"I remember perfectly. It's your son I forget." Lucius's voice sharpened.

"Up until recently, I couldn't even recall the boy could hold a wand upright."

"Then again," Lucius went on, "I'm told he's been quite popular with the children. Dumbledore's reports are glowing. Master Ji's comment reached even me. A curiosity, that." He sneered faintly, "You've worked rather hard to lend his tenure an air of legitimacy. Ji's endorsement. The French press. Your father's hand, no doubt, he always did have a flair for rehabilitating lost causes." He stepped away from the staircase.

"Almost makes one wonder if the boy's skill is in history or performance." Regulus didn't blink.

"He was sent to die on that expedition, wasn't he?" Lucius mused, tone light.

"How convenient that he came back fluent in glyphwork and cloaked in praise. Quite the resurrection arc. How very... curated." Lucius went on.

"But I don't blame you. I blame the desperation. The boy had nothing. No reputation. No record. Couldn't even cast a spell without weeping. And now here he is, a professor. A darling of half the staff. Playing games with the curriculum while quoting war crimes over breakfast."

"I fail to see your point." Lucius turned his head slightly.

"My point is, the illusion was working. Quietly. Cleverly. And I would've let it stand, if not for the dramatics." Regulus stared dry, almost bored.

"You've never understood the difference between illusion and leverage." Lucius smiled without teeth.

"No, I've merely understood how often one becomes the other." He crossed the threshold into the sitting room, not looking to see if Regulus followed. He poured only one glass. Two would imply negotiation.

"You've overplayed your hand," Lucius said, sipping slowly.

"Dumbledore may tolerate insolence, but the Board does not. Nor do parents. You saw the numbers. My letter addressed the heart of the problem." Regulus stepped forward.

"There will be no next one." Lucius's mouth twitched.

"So that's why you came. A paternal impulse." He laughed softly.

"And here I thought you'd given up on illusions." Regulus rested a hand on the antique chair.

"You misunderstand. I did not come to ask." Lucius raised a brow.

"I came to inform." The chair creaked under his fingers. Lucius looked down at it.

"You will not mention my son again. Not to the Board. Not to your friends. Not in the presence of Ministry mouthpieces. You will not send letters. You will not commission whispers. You will not attempt to bend policy through wine and name games."

"And if I do?" Regulus smiled, almost wolfish, "Then I remind the Ministry who sealed the Flinchcombe vote. Who buried the Oakes testimony. Who signed the protection writ for Adric Mulciber and filed it under civic reform... oh, and who wrote the Imperius Lie." Lucius clenched the glass, almost breaking it.

"Old things," Regulus said softly, "but not forgotten. And very easy to misplace once they're remembered." Lucius set his glass down.

"You would dig up your own house's past over him?" Regulus studied him like a faded ledger.

"Rosiers know when to offer blood," he said.

"And which vein is worth opening." Lucius leaned back slowly, spine straight.

"You'd risk it all for a boy who couldn't conjure a candle five years ago?"

"I'd risk nothing," Regulus said.

"Because I already did. He lived."