Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Peter

Chapter 41 Regulus' Relic ([-])
The scene was broken and reorganized again.

The location is back in the restaurant at 12 Grimmauld Place.

The decoration of the room is still luxurious, but the heavy atmosphere seems to cast a shadow over the candlelight.

Sirius and Regulus' father was pacing around the dining table, his face clouded.

Their mother sat at the table, staring distraughtly at Kreacher's elaborate dishes.

"What to do... what to do..." She covered her face and muttered in a low voice.

Regulus opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something.

He is at the most pretentious age, realizing that his parents also have a weak side, and he thinks it is his responsibility to hold up this crumbling home.

"Mom..." he said in a soothing voice, "Sirius won't be easily defeated by a dementor..."

At the word "dementor," his mother lost her last grip and sobbed.

"Ministry of Magic...don't let me approach...I saw him from afar...taken by...dementors...his face is as white as a piece of paper..."

"Enough! Walburga, don't cry!" his father stopped and shouted. "Can crying solve the problem?"

"Then you should think of a way, Orion!"

Orion sighed, gritted his teeth and said, "Sirius, the villain, has never given us any peace of mind. It's fine for him to hang out with those dirty mudbloods, but now he's with criminals again!"

"Does he hate us that much?" Walburga said weakly. "He hates us so much that he hates us as well as the whole Slytherin house... But I didn't expect him to attack a fellow Slytherin house." ..."

"Is that Slytherin student dead?" Orion forced himself to be calm. "If he is not dead, I can still do some operations to get Sirius out."

Walburga closed her eyes and shook her head, "I don't know... I was terrified after just looking at it... Blood was everywhere, my whole body was torn... My stomach..." She didn't continue, He made a gesture with trembling hands.

Olaine hammered his temple with his fist, "Which family does that student belong to?"

Most Slytherin students come from pure-blood families with deep roots. If the other family is not relentless, Sirius will be punished more severely.

"As far as I know, he has no relatives or reasons." Walburga's voice became much more stable.

Orion's eyes lit up, "Then this matter will be much easier to handle. We can sponsor a large sum of gold to the Ministry of Magic, as long as the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, doesn't worry too much."

Regulus looked down at his hands, he didn't know what to think of this "tradition" of the Black family.

"But..." Walburga was not as optimistic as her husband. "This matter has something to do with werewolves. Sirius got mixed up with a werewolf."

"Wolfman?"

"He let the werewolf kill that Slytherin student." Walburga sobbed, "This black sheep, unworthy son, has completely disgraced the Black family..."

In the eyes of extreme conservatives like Black, werewolves are extremely despicable existences, and the news of the werewolf killing a wizard will inevitably arouse public outrage.

Orion kicked over a carved armchair, walked quickly to the tapestry, drew out his wand viciously, and pointed to the name of Sirius on the family tree.

After a long time, he slowly lowered his wand and knelt on the carpet.

"This damned rebellious son, I really want to remove him from the family. But when he comes back from Azkaban after suffering so much, no matter it's five years, ten years or a century, he should always have a home to return to... "

Hearing her husband's words, Walburga lay on the table and wept loudly, Regulus stood up and patted his mother's back, Kreacher stood at the kitchen door, looking at the grieving masters with watery eyes.

The scene melted again, and a gloomy scene slowly emerged.

It seemed to be an ancient circular dungeon, the walls were built of black rock blocks, and rusty shackles hung from the low vaulted ceiling.

A group of people in black hoods and black robes with their heads lowered form a circle, and they wear skull masks, which is creepy.

No one spoke, no one even dared to breathe loudly.

With a soft sound, a man also wearing a black robe appeared in the center of the circle. His skin was as pale as plaster, his nose had two slits, and two blood-red snake eyes gleamed.

He is Voldemort.

Seeing the master appearing, the surrounding people knelt down tremblingly.

"Stand up, my faithful servants." His voice was high and grim.

The Death Eaters stood up cautiously, and Voldemort paced slowly, his eyes sweeping over everyone.

"I have always been misunderstood by the outside world. But you know that everything I do has the most noble purpose. Wizards have noble magic blood flowing in them, but they have been bullied and oppressed by Muggles for thousands of years. You know Is that why?"

He posed the question softly, but none of the Death Eaters dared to answer.

"This is all because wizards have always been weak." After a pause, he continued, "But this history is gone forever. I will lead the world into the era of wizards, and I will return the wizard world to freedom."

"To my great satisfaction, under many misunderstandings and doubts, a noble young wizard was inspired, and he was determined to fight for our blood, for the eternally pure Black family - Regulus Blake joined us."

There was commotion among the ranks of the Death Eaters, who recognized each other through masks and seemed to be looking for this new addition to their ranks.

"Regulus, my boy, come forward," said Voldemort.

Regulus stepped out, wearing a Death Eater's hood and mask, and at first glance he was indeed eerie.

But when he walked around, even through the loose black robe, people could easily see that his figure was not tall, and his steps were a little immature.

Voldemort walked up to him with dancing steps, embraced him with wide arms, and clapped his back twice with his large pale hand with slender fingers.

"Regulus, stretch out your left arm, and the moment of glory will follow."

Trembling with excitement, Regulus rolled up his sleeves and stretched out his arms in front of Voldemort.

Voldemort drew out his wand, pointed at his arm, and a black air came out from the tip of the wand, searing deeply into his flesh and blood.

A burst of unbearable pain.

Beneath the mask, his face was contorted with pain, but he gritted his teeth to keep himself from screaming.

Finally, Voldemort's spellcasting ended, and Regulus had a bright red brand on his left arm, depicting the scene of a poisonous snake crawling out of the skeleton's mouth.

This is the Dark Mark.

"Bella, you will take care of Regulus," Voldemort ordered.

(End of this chapter)