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It was a completely, profoundly good evening.
Inside the grand dining room at 12 Grimmauld Place, the incredibly rich, mouth-watering aroma of an expensive Christmas dinner heavily permeated the warm air, beautifully mingling with the sweet, spicy steam of hot mulled cider, completely creating a highly relaxing, deeply satisfying family atmosphere.
Sirius took a small, highly appreciative breath of the massive slab of steaming, perfectly cooked roast beef resting on his silver plate directly in front of him—it smelled absolutely wonderful. Kreacher had meticulously, aggressively prepared the cut exactly the highly specific way he liked it, beautifully accompanied by perfectly tender, butter-roasted mushrooms and crisp bamboo shoots.
He slowly, happily picked up his heavy silver knife and fork—he looked around at the incredibly warm, welcoming attitude of his notoriously strict family, the highly subtle, yet undeniable presence of the little Gryffindor lion decorations hidden in the tree, and his absolute favorite, custom-made food resting before him—
The completely genuine, unburdened smile on his young, handsome face deepened significantly.
The cheerful, highly relaxed atmosphere of the room was exactly like the roaring, golden fire in the marble hearth; bright, unburdened laughter and joyful, comfortable silence melting beautifully together in the warm air.
Although Regulus highly aggressively, methodically wrote corporate update letters home to his mother almost every single week, Walburga still kept constantly, highly maternally asking them highly detailed, fussy questions about their daily lives at Hogwarts, occasionally, dramatically commenting that they physically "suffered" too much or had "lost far too much weight" in the drafty Castle, and so on. Orion simply listened completely silently to the boys' answers from the head of the long table, a small, highly genuine smile almost absolutely always resting on his stoic face.
It completely wasn't until just before Kreacher served the heavy dessert that Regulus finally, smoothly seized the tactical moment when Walburga was delicately wiping her mouth with a silk napkin, and asked highly casually—
"Mother, please, entirely never mind us for a moment. Exactly how has the family been doing recently?"
Walburga leaned back completely comfortably in her heavy, high-backed mahogany chair, looking incredibly relaxed, and said, "Everything here at home is completely, perfectly as usual—your father has actually been heavily, aggressively adding highly complex Fidelius Charms and massive spatial wards directly to the ancestral house recently to make it entirely, physically harder to find. He's honestly spent almost absolutely all his free time exclusively on this massive project—I really, genuinely don't fully logically know exactly what the paranoid point of it is, it's absolutely not exactly like filthy Muggles could actually find this hidden place anyway..."
She cast a highly brief, entirely loving glance at her husband with a slight, theatrical hint of complaint, then her painted lips beautifully curved up again, and her expression instantly became highly, immensely proud and deeply joyful:
"As for me, I've been incredibly, massively busy with the administrative side of the new cosmetic company recently, meticulously doing absolutely everything exactly as Regulus suggested in his memos... Highly specifically, it's entirely about aggressive media contacts and bribery. It went absolutely, incredibly well. The senior editor-in-chief of The Daily Prophet actually personally, highly respectfully received me in his private office..."
"Honestly, absolutely only your Aunt Dorea, your great-aunt, isn't doing very well. She's currently highly heavily hospitalized at St. Mungo's Hospital, and the most senior healers there are completely at a massive, frustrating loss regarding exactly what her wasting condition is."
Sirius blinked his grey eyes in surprise. He used to happily play at Dorea's massive estate when he was a little boy and absolutely always got a massive handful of expensive magical candies from her. Her husband, Charlus Potter, was one of James Potter's wealthy great-grandfathers.
Dorea had actually been highly chronically ill for a very long time, and his parents were absolutely always completely vague and secretive about the dark details.
"What exactly about Andromeda and the others?" Regulus asked smoothly, guiding the conversation towards his real target.
"Bellatrix and Cissy have actually both visited recently—" Orion replied simply, taking a sip of his wine.
Regulus slightly raised an aristocratic eyebrow, a clear, highly calculated look of political inquiry on his face.
Orion pondered highly deeply for a tense moment, carefully, meticulously organizing his political words: "Cissy is doing completely, exceptionally well. Lucius Malfoy is incredibly, financially attentive to her needs. She is a highly smart, deeply pragmatic child and has absolutely always logically known exactly what she politically wanted to do since she was young. But... Bellatrix—"
"There's absolutely nothing wrong with Bellatrix!" Walburga immediately interrupted, her sharp voice unconsciously, violently rising slightly in defense of her favorite niece. She had absolutely always deeply liked Bellatrix's highly unrestrained, violent flamboyance and arrogant nature, which strongly, fondly reminded her of her own younger self. "Bellatrix is completely—"
Her fierce gaze swept directly over the table to Regulus, and the exact, absolute microsecond their dark eyes finally met, her loud voice suddenly, violently stopped dead in her throat—her brilliant younger son was simply looking directly at her completely quietly. His dark eyes were entirely gentle, but they physically showed a massive, absolute, and utterly undeniable flash of deep political disapproval.
Walburga violently pursed her painted lips tightly and suddenly, completely swallowed the absolute rest of her defensive sentence in silence.
Had Mother actually, completely been put under the Imperius Curse?! Exactly why on earth was she suddenly acting so incredibly... "subservient" and heavily respectful towards a twelve-year-old Regulus? Sirius, sitting quietly by, was completely, utterly dumbfounded, his wide grey eyes fixed intensely on the bizarre, highly shifted power dynamics of the people at the table.
Seeing his fierce wife completely, unprecedentedly stop talking on command, Orion smoothly continued his intelligence report: "Bellatrix proudly, loudly said that the specific Lord she is currently fanatically following, who goes by the name 'Voldemort', absolutely possesses extremely, terrifyingly unusual and highly powerful dark magical abilities—she claims his raw power is absolutely already completely on par with Albus Dumbledore."
"Bellatrix completely didn't go into highly specific, tactical detail regarding his power, but it heavily, mathematically seems to be highly related to highly advanced, restricted soul magic."
Orion turned to look directly at his two sons and explained carefully, "Regarding the specific, dark theory of soul magic... perhaps you two haven't had much actual, academic exposure to it yet. Many highly intelligent students actively spend seven full years studying at Hogwarts and still legally know absolutely nothing about it. I honestly don't fully know much about the highly classified mechanics of it myself."
Instantly, violently remembering that specific, highly damaged black book resting in Dumbledore's office—Potentia Animarum (Soul Power)—Sirius completely couldn't help but immediately exchange a highly intense, deeply knowing, panicked look directly with Regulus. This rapid, highly synchronized tactical action was also absolutely, keenly noticed by the highly observant Orion.
"In short," Orion continued, his deep voice completely even and devoid of emotion. "She proudly said that the Dark Lord has massive, profound respect for our Noble House of Black and is highly, politically interested in our massive resources. He strongly hopes to have a formal chance to legally meet with me in the near future."
And Walburga, recovering her composure, nodded incredibly proudly at the massive political prospect.
"Regulus, that's exactly the one you briefly, politely met at the Malfoy wedding reception—" Walburga said excitedly. "He currently owns a massive, terrifying viper and is actually a literal Parselmouth, isn't he?"
"Indeed. He absolutely can directly talk to snakes," Regulus nodded, his tone completely calm and clinical.
"A Parselmouth—" Walburga raised her sharp voice again, her eyes gleaming with absolute pureblood fanaticism. "This is Salazar Slytherin's absolute, world-famous, highly exclusive biological ability! Bellatrix proudly said his ancient bloodline is extremely, undeniably noble. He is definitely a direct, biological descendant of Slytherin himself—"
Saying this, she looked completely expectantly at her husband, then turned eagerly to look directly at Regulus, highly expectantly watching his physical reaction for approval.
In the heavy, oppressive silence of the dining room, broken completely only by the soft crackling of the massive hearth fire, Regulus gave a short, highly soft laugh—
Walburga had absolutely, completely never, in twelve years, seen Regulus actually make such a highly specific, terrifying facial expression. His pale lips were beautifully, flawlessly curved up into a polite smile, but his cold, dark eyes held absolutely not a single, microscopic hint of an actual smile. His gaze was entirely mixed with a highly lethal, terrifying kind of—
Absolute, unadulterated mockery... and pure, profound contempt?
She instantly stopped completely speaking, looking somewhat highly flustered and deeply unsure of herself.
"Bellatrix—is far, far too simple, and sometimes she is just downright, pathetically naive," Regulus slowly, flawlessly picked up his heavy crystal wine glass, entirely dismissing the deadliest witch in Britain. "—And she is far too incredibly easy for a charismatic leader to violently deceive."
Regulus's voice was completely gentle, but his corporate tone was absolutely, mathematically certain:
"Mother, strictly, logically speaking: If he truly were a direct, noble biological descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself... he would literally just highly proudly, loudly say so to completely cement his political power. Exactly why on earth would he actively, aggressively choose to be highly secretive and completely hide his true, ancient surname?"
Regulus smoothly moved the hot apple punch directly to his lips and took a highly leisurely, aristocratic sip.
Under Walburga's even vastly more profoundly shocked, wide-eyed gaze, her husband, Orion, who practically always heavily, obediently agreed with her political rants, actually nodded in complete, absolute agreement with their twelve-year-old son:
"Exactly what Regulus just analytically said makes absolute, perfect logical sense—"
"Walburga—" Orion, who was famously, historically rarely actively concerned about absolutely anything political, became completely, terrifyingly serious for once, leaning entirely forward. "Did Bellatrix actually ever specifically, explicitly mention the Dark Lord's real, biological surname to you?"
"Uh... well... she proudly said... that... that the Lord entirely, violently didn't want the public to logically know it," Walburga suddenly felt incredibly, inexplicably guilty and defensive, and added in a very low, cowed voice.
"Isn't it actually Tom Riddle...?"
When Sirius highly casually, smoothly threw out this specific, highly classified sentence into the room, the entire dining room instantly, violently fell completely, utterly silent.
His highly shocked parents' dark eyes absolutely all violently, intensely shifted completely to stare exactly at his face—
"Sirius... exactly what on earth did you just say...?" Orion breathed, his voice tight.
"Tom Riddle," Sirius shrugged highly casually, cutting a piece of mushroom. "That specific day in the Hogwarts trophy room... well... we were heavily playing around... Avery violently, accidentally knocked over a few massive display trophies, and exactly one of them actually had the name 'Tom Riddle' highly prominently written directly on it—for a massive 'Special Services to the School Award'."
"My friend Remus... Remus Lupin... simply picked the heavy trophy up off the floor on his way out."
"And completely out of highly academic curiosity," Regulus smiled slightly, taking the narrative lead, "we actively did a little bit of deep, highly aggressive intelligence investigation in the library records regarding that specific name."
He elegantly, smoothly raised his hawthorn wand and waved it highly casually. Thick, glowing golden-red Christmas ribbons completely, magically floated into the warm air directly above the dining table, gracefully, violently forming a highly prominent, glowing name—
Tom Marvolo Riddle
He smoothly waved his wand again, and the glowing, floating ribbon letters violently, instantly rearranged themselves entirely, completely forming a massive, terrifying new sentence in the air—
I am Lord Voldemort
"Riddle?!" Walburga's dark eyes widened in absolute, pure unadulterated horror, her manicured fingertips stiffly, violently pressing completely white against the heavy mahogany tabletop. "In the entire history of the British Wizarding World... is there actually, logically even such a pureblood family?"
"Absolutely not. I highly logically don't think so at all," Orion violently shook his head in absolute disgust, his pureblood pride violently offended by the filthy Muggle surname. He then immediately, highly urgently looked entirely at the eager house-elf. "Kreacher?!"
"Master Orion, sir! Long, long before you were even biologically born, Kreacher vividly remembers seeing a highly massive report in an old copy of The Daily Prophet belonging to the old master," the ancient house-elf squeaked highly eagerly, practically vibrating. "It was entirely about a highly violent, deranged pureblood wizard named Marvolo Gaunt who aggressively, violently attacked the Ministry of Magic official Bob Ogden."
"As for the filthy Muggle surname 'Riddle'—Kreacher has absolutely, completely never, ever seen or heard it in high-society records!"
Kreacher held his ugly, bony head incredibly high, deeply, profoundly happy to actually be able to actively help his wealthy masters uncover a massive conspiracy.
This specific time, it was entirely Regulus's turn to violently widen his dark eyes in absolute, profound surprise—
Kreacher?! He could actually legitimately be highly tactically used exactly like this for intelligence gathering?!
Exactly how incredibly, impossibly old was the devoted house-elf again?
Flawlessly reciting the highly obscure, ancient, decades-old contents of a specific 'Daily Prophet' article completely, effortlessly off the absolute top of his bony head... could this elf actually mathematically be the legendary, highly overpowered—
Kreacher-Encyclopedia-Britannica?