Harry Potter: Reborn as Regulus Black

Apparition dropped him at Malfoy Manor.

Lucius lifted his hand from Regulus’s shoulder, straightened his robes, and stepped aside with a gesture toward the doors. "Here we are."

Two house-elves emerged through the front doors, bowing low in clean linen smocks with the Malfoy crest stitched at the collar.

They stepped inside.

The entrance hall was floored in polished marble. In one corner stood a silver statue as tall as a man, depicting the first Head of House with his wand raised, the diamond at its tip scattering fragments of light across the floor.

He glanced over it and looked away. He’d seen all of this the last time.

A year and more, and nothing in the manor had been moved so much as an inch.

"I’d meant to give you a proper reception," Lucius said, leading him deeper in. "Narcissa’s been arranging it since this morning. Wouldn’t trust anyone but herself to oversee it."

He turned his head slightly, a hint of a smile. "Father’s in France dealing with business, so he’s out. No outsiders in the house, just us. Treat it as your own."

Regulus nodded.

No elders present meant fewer rules, and tonight’s dinner was for him. Enjoying it was the whole point.

Lucius glanced at the light outside the window. "I hadn’t expected today to go so smoothly, so the meal was set for later. Didn’t imagine you’d simply stand there and have the wolf lose his nerve on his own. Cleaner than I’d planned for."

He gestured. "A guest room’s ready. Rest a while, and we’ll eat properly this evening."

Regulus didn’t argue. "That works."

Lucius didn’t hand him off to an elf. He took him upstairs himself.

The banister was ebony inlaid with silver wire, every step carpeted so thickly that footfalls made no sound at all.

A long gallery ran the length of the second floor, hung with landscape oils in gilt frames, each showing Malfoy Manor in a different era, the four seasons cycling through one after another.

Last visit he’d stayed downstairs in the great hall and the banquet room. He’d never been up here.

Lucius pushed the door open. The room beyond was absurdly large.

The four-poster alone came to half the size of his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. Dark green velvet hangings, peacock motifs spiraling from the bedposts up across the ceiling.

New furniture, lacquer bright enough to see your face in. Floor-length windows facing the garden, noon light spilling through the glass across half the floor.

Regulus took a slow look around.

The rooms at Grimmauld Place sat heavy on you. Old ebony furniture, portraits of ancestors nobody could name anymore, the sort that would stare back if you opened your eyes at midnight.

He’d lived with it long enough not to notice. That kind of grandeur turned inward: rules, inheritance, centuries of family history. It weighed on you and it steadied you at once. The Blacks liked it that way.

Against this place, though, theirs was a library and this was an exhibition hall.

Bright, certainly. It just didn’t look much like somewhere people lived. It looked like something put out for viewing.

Lucius stayed in the doorway. "Tell the elves if you need anything."

"Lucius." Regulus turned, skipping the courtesies. "Get me some dragon meat. Raw."

Lucius’s brow lifted, but he didn’t ask what for. Regulus was hardly going to eat it himself.

The Malfoys didn’t keep dragons, though they were fond of them. The stores always held top-grade dragon meat bought in from all over, fresh, sorted by origin and by cut.

If you liked a thing, you ate it. You simply ate it well.

A few slices of raw dragon was nothing to this house.

"How many?" he asked.

"Bring a variety." Regulus reached into an inner pocket of his robes. "Let him choose."

Baruk climbed out, eight legs bracing across Regulus’s wrist, the dark red bristles glossy in the afternoon light.

Eight eyes rolled, taking the whole room in first. Ceiling... Four-poster... Windows.... Carpet...

Then he settled on the wrist and stayed there, no leaping down, no wandering.

This wasn’t Regulus’s territory. He’d worked that out, and he knew better than to roam.

His eyes kept moving all the same. Pincers opened and closed twice, click, click. Working out, perhaps, when he might get to build a nest here.

Lucius’s gaze settled on the spider, and his eyebrows climbed again.

Keeping a spider as a pet was rare enough among Pure-blood wizards, and Regulus would never bother with an ordinary specimen.

He’d seen plenty of magical creatures. A few species ran through his mind in quick succession.

Eight eyes. Bristles that color. But no bigger than a palm.

Acromantulas grew to the size of a house. Wrong. The fang proportions and that dark red bristles didn’t match a tarantula either.

Nothing fit. He gave up guessing.

Lucius was a man of manners. However strange the thing in front of him, he wouldn’t so much as frown before a guest. All he said was, "A rare creature."

Regulus glanced at him and inclined his head.

Lucius raised his hand and tapped the serpent head of his cane against the door frame. A house-elf appeared with a crack and bowed for instructions.

He gave a few quiet orders. The elf bent and vanished, returning shortly with a tray.

Piled full, seven or eight varieties laid out in neat rows.

Norwegian Ridgeback tenderloin, Hebridean Black leg meat, Swedish Short-Snout neck, Common Welsh Green ribs and few more Regulus couldn’t have named.

Baruk had climbed to his shoulder by then. Two clicks, and Regulus nodded to him.

He shot from the shoulder to the edge of the tray, eight legs going at once.

A bite torn from this piece, spat out in disgust. Two chews of that one, then a sniff at the next.

At home he ate whatever he was given. There’d never been a choice.

Now, with a whole tray laid out and clearly meant for him, permission to be picky, he threw himself into it.

The Ridgeback tenderloin was too dry. The Hebridean Black leg too rank. The Welsh Green ribs were passable but not tender enough.

He stopped at the Swedish Short-Snout neck in the middle and clamped his pincers down, refusing to move.

Regulus watched the whole performance and his mouth pulled sideways.

Lucius waited until Baruk had chosen, then looked to the elf.

The elf came forward, took the tray, disappeared for a while, and returned holding a soft leather pouch the size of a palm, head lowered, both hands raised to present it.

Lucius accepted it, set it on the table, and pushed it toward Regulus. "Since he likes them, take these along."

Regulus didn’t refuse. He picked it up and weighed it in his hand.

Light enough. A touch of his fingertips told him the rest.

An undetectable Extension Charm, roughly two hundred pieces of dragon meat stacked inside, plus a chilling charm to keep it fresh.

A pouch like that would be a respectable magical item to an ordinary wizard, and even to some Pure-blood families without much behind them.

Here, it was a bag for spider feed.

He’d seen plenty of the kind, had given a few away himself, so it wasn’t remarkable. Only, the Malfoys really were rich.

The elves laid out lunch.

Regulus had little appetite and picked at enough to line his stomach.

Lucius made conversation for a while, then rose. A few things about the evening still needed his own hand. "Narcissa’s with her mother just now. You’ll see her tonight."

With that he left.

The door shut, and the room went quiet.