Orion didn't argue. The Killing Curse really wasn't some impossibly advanced piece of magic. Its power depended far more on the caster's raw magical strength, and on how badly they truly wanted to kill.
If someone hesitated, even if they managed to cast it, the effect would drop off sharply. At most, it might give the target a nosebleed.
What Orion felt was curiosity, or maybe uncertainty.
"If I hadn't stopped you," he asked, "would you really have killed him?"
Regulus looked at the cold wizard on the ground, still twitching, and stayed silent for a few seconds.
On this, he decided to tell his father the truth.
"I'm not afraid to kill."
"But I wouldn't use the Killing Curse to do it. At least not right now. Killing with it is too obvious."
Regulus raised his wand and studied it in front of his eyes. "Especially with my own wand. That's trouble I don't need."
Then he went on, voice even. "Besides, there are too many ways to kill. Without magic, with physical force. Twist his neck. Drive something through his heart. Cut an artery."
"With magic, but not dark magic. Like i can use transfiguration to turn the air in his lungs into poison gas. Turn the blood in his vessels into mercury."
"And the environment makes it easy too. Set off explosives. Cause a collapse. Or don't do anything at all. Leave him here and someone will want test material eventually."
Every time Regulus listed another method, Orion's eyes narrowed a fraction.
He was trying to understand the thinking behind his son's words. C
It was a classic Pure-blood mindset, only clearer than most Pure-bloods ever managed.
Some Pure-blood families loved to talk about justice, as if their status and seats in the Wizengamot had been earned through love and peace.
"Then if I hadn't shown up," Orion continued, "what were you going to do with these people?"
Regulus turned his head and looked at his father. Instead of answering, he asked, "Does our family… do business related to human bodies?"
Orion stared at him for a long moment before he finally said, "We do. Knockturn Alley has three clinics and two alchemy labs. They need materials regularly."
"Mostly dark wizards, werewolves and vampires. The kinds that aren't protected by the law."
When he saw Regulus's expression didn't change, Orion added one more sentence. "Sometimes Muggles too."
Regulus nodded. He didn't say anything else, but the meaning was obvious.
Orion didn't press further. His son's attitude didn't surprise him. Orion wasn't afraid to kill either.
As the head of the House of Black, as someone who'd navigated the highest circles of the wizarding world for decades, his hands couldn't possibly be clean.
Those businesses in Knockturn Alley, some he allowed to exist. Some he controlled directly. Some he had even pushed into being.
He just didn't want Regulus killing with his own hands so early.
It had nothing to do with morality. It was psychological.
The first time you kill is different from the hundredth. The hundredth is different from the thousandth.
The first time leaves a mark. It carves something into the soul.
Orion wanted Regulus to grow a little more first. He wanted him steadier, tougher inside, before he stepped over that line.
But now, it seemed Regulus might have stepped over it long ago.
Not because he'd actually killed someone, necessarily, but because of the way he understood the world.
Maybe in Regulus's mind, killing wasn't sacred or taboo.
It was simply an option.
A tool.
One way to solve a problem.
Like using a knife to chop vegetables.
Like boiling water over a flame.
Natural, ordinary and not something that needed meaning piled onto it.
Orion couldn't decide whether that was good or bad.
But Regulus could summon a Patronus, so there was nothing to worry about.
Orion took one last look at the four people on the ground and flicked his wand.
Four powerful Stunning Spells struck them squarely in the forehead, precise and clean, knocking them fully unconscious. Then he flicked his wand again, and the four bodies floated up and drifted after him.
"Come on," Orion called. "Time to go home."
They left the side alley and returned to the main street of Knockturn Alley.
The foot traffic was still sparse. Everyone kept their heads down and hurried along.
No one cared about the four unconscious bodies floating behind them.
A few people glanced over, but the moment they spotted the Black crest on Orion, they snapped their eyes away and pretended they hadn't seen anything.
That was how Knockturn Alley worked.
Mind your own business if you wanted to live longer.
After tossing the four bodies into a shop, Orion stopped at the shadowed passage that led out of Knockturn Alley and said to Regulus, "Don't tell your mother about what happened today."
Regulus looked over, baffled for a second, then nodded. "Of course."
"And one more thing." Orion thought for a moment, then added, "We come to Knockturn Alley a few times a year. From now on, you're coming with me. Watch more and learn more but don't act too easily. Some things are better left as knowledge. You don't need to do them yourself."
"Understood."
They walked out of the passage and stopped in front of the neat brick wall that marked Diagon Alley.
Sunlight poured down, warm and bright. The air was clean. Children's laughter carried from somewhere nearby.
Compared to Knockturn Alley's filthy gloom, this place felt like heaven.
---
By the time they returned from Knockturn Alley to Grimmauld Place, it was already dark outside, and the fire in the hearth was roaring.
Kreacher took Orion's cloak the moment he removed it, then helped Regulus unfasten his own cloak clasp, quick and efficient.
Dinner was served in the dining room.
The long table was loaded with dishes Walburga had personally supervised.
Golden roasted lamb chops. Escargot baked under a creamy sauce. A mountain of mashed potatoes.
And Regulus's favorite, pumpkin pie.
Candlelight flickered beneath the crystal chandelier, and the silverware threw back a soft gleam.
Walburga sat at the head of the table, and her eyes never left Regulus.
She watched him cut into the lamb with knife and fork. Watched him drink his soup. Watched him eat his pie. The look on her face, pride tangled with worry, was nearly overflowing.
"You go back to school tomorrow." Walburga sliced into her own lamb chop, her knife and fork clicking crisply against the china. "Have you packed everything?"
"Everything's packed." Regulus swallowed and looked up at her.
"Take care of yourself at school. Don't bury yourself in books." Walburga kept going, her concern obvious in her tone.
"You're still growing so eat properly and sleep properly. Those classes aren't difficult for you. You don't need to push yourself to the bone."
Then her tone shifted, sharper. "Of course, you still need to fight for what's yours.
A Black can't fall behind. If someone's too blind to know their place, teach them. Let them see what our family is capable of."
Regulus listened quietly, nodding now and then.
He was long used to his mother's contradictory instructions. One moment she worried he'd wear himself out, the next she demanded he uphold the family's pride without any slack.
After dinner, Orion went to his study to handle paperwork. Regulus followed.
When he knocked and stepped inside, Orion was standing by the window, looking out at the street. At the sound, he turned. Seeing Regulus, he pointed to the chair across from the desk.
"Sit."
Regulus sat and arranged his thoughts.
"Father," he began without hesitation, "I have some thoughts about the Malfoys."
Orion returned to his chair behind the desk, fingers interlaced on the tabletop, and waited for him to continue.
"How is Abraxas Malfoy's health these days?" Regulus asked.
"I saw him at a gathering not long ago. He seemed in good spirits." Orion's tone was measured. "But he's getting older. There are always little problems. Why do you ask?"
"It just occurred to me." Regulus kept his voice calm. "If the elder Malfoy had an accident, an illness, an injury, or something worse, what happens to the Malfoy family?"
Orion narrowed his eyes. "Did you hear something?"
"No." Regulus shook his head. "No rumors."
"It's a guess. Among Pure-blood families, the Malfoys are riding the highest wave right now. The elder Malfoy is skilled. He's made their house thrive. But maybe that isn't entirely a good thing."
Regulus watched his father's expression. When Orion didn't respond, he continued.
"Especially in the current situation. Voldemort needs loyal followers, not allies who are hard to control.
A family that's too powerful, and too independent, might not fit what he wants."
Orion leaned forward slightly. "What are you implying?"
"I'm not implying anything. I'm only speculating." Regulus shook his head again.
"Let's assume it happens. If the elder Malfoy truly goes down, who benefits most?
Lucius would inherit the Malfoy family, but he's too young. He lacks experience. His methods don't come close to his father's.
What does the Malfoy family become then? A wealthy house without enough strength or wisdom to match its fortune. A tool that's easier to control. Easier to use."
He looked straight at Orion. "Which Malfoy would Voldemort prefer? The elder Malfoy, clever but not fully controllable, or Lucius, an heir who can be pushed into place?"
The study fell silent.
Orion's fingers tapped softly against the desk as he thought.
"Your speculation is dangerous," he said at last, "and bold. Abraxas is Voldemort's public supporter. They've worked together for years. There's no reason…"