Regulus crossed to the bed, sat cross-legged, and closed his eyes. His breathing slowed.
He sank inward, into the depths of his mind.
Stars unfurled across the mental landscape, weaving into a constellation model that turned in slow, silent rotation. The Star Guided Meditation provided its foundation.
Time to rebuild the room.
He took the existing consciousness chamber as his starting point and began converting it into something far more sophisticated, layering in advanced Occlumency techniques to forge a composite psychic construct.
First, the filtration membrane. Drawing on the Star Guided Meditation's inherent purity, he wove a dense net of psychic threads. Every scrap of magical energy or information entering the chamber would pass through this layer first. Not to purge it. Only to tag, analyze, and log.
Next, the observation window. A one-way aperture through which his core awareness could monitor the chamber's interior, while nothing inside could detect the watcher. The window's surface was a semi-transparent psychic barrier: clear enough for unobstructed viewing, opaque to any reverse probe.
Then the conduit. A narrow, adjustable channel of psychic matter connecting the chamber to the outside. Restrictive runes lined its inner walls, governing flow rate, volume, and magical purity with precision.
Last, the internal reinforcement. Layer upon layer of defensive netting woven into the chamber walls, designed to prevent the simulated persona, or any dark energy fed into the space, from breaking free. These nets linked directly to his core awareness. The moment they detected an unauthorized breach attempt, alarms would trigger. If necessary, a kill switch would fire automatically.
The construct was complete. Equal parts containment cell and laboratory.
Now to install the occupant.
He called up the simulated persona from that morning's performance: the Regulus who craved power.
Adjustments followed. He dampened the persona's emotional range across the board, stripped away self-awareness and any sense of identity. In their place, he amplified its obsessive drive to study dark knowledge, sharpened its curiosity and risk tolerance, and embedded a single foundational directive deep in its structure.
All research findings must be reported upward through the filtration layer.
Modifications locked in, the persona was transferred and sealed inside the containment chamber.
It stood now at the center of that blank white room, wearing the expression Regulus had sculpted for it: hungry curiosity edged with greed.
It had no idea it was in a cage. As far as it knew, this was a private research space built just for it.
Then he opened the line.
Regulus engaged the conduit, easing it open by degrees, linking it to the Awakening's core. Dark information and magical energy began trickling into the chamber.
The persona noticed immediately.
It turned toward the conduit's outlet, eyes brightening. One hand reached out, tracing the paths dark energy carved as it spread through the room.
It began to work.
Through the observation window, Regulus watched. The persona paced, fingers sketching spell gestures in empty air. Its lips moved in silent recitation, perhaps fragments of ancient incantations leaking from the Dark Awakening. Now and then it paused, frowning in thought, then resumed.
The filtration layer recorded and analyzed everything in real time.
Regulus set the safety protocols.
His core awareness held supreme authority. It could sever the magical feed, shut the observation window, or adjust filtration parameters at any moment. If the situation demanded it, the kill switch was always there. The entire chamber, its occupant, every trace of dark energy inside, could be compressed and annihilated in an instant. He'd lose a portion of his mental reserves, but absolute containment was guaranteed.
The persona's range of activity was confined strictly to the chamber's interior. It could perceive nothing beyond those walls and had no channel for direct communication with his core self. Any knowledge it gathered, any dark insights it extracted, had to pass the filtration layer's review before his core awareness could selectively receive them.
The filter operated on two criteria. First, the Star Guided Meditation's purity, which automatically stripped out information carrying heavy mental contamination or emotional distortion. Second, Regulus's own understanding of magic, which could distinguish genuine knowledge from traps dressed up as knowledge.
Initial construction: complete.
Regulus opened his eyes.
The bedroom was dim, curtains still drawn.
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
One seventeen in the afternoon.
The whole process had taken roughly three hours.
He now possessed a sustainable, secure platform for studying dark magic. The simulated persona would gradually learn to use the knowledge the Dark Awakening provided, might even simulate certain dark magical effects. But the mental contamination and personality warping that came with it would remain locked tight inside the isolation zone.
What he received was purified data, filtered knowledge. What he spent was a portion of regenerable mental energy as upkeep.
He'd taken the poison Voldemort sent him and converted it into a controlled sample library and test server.
Liability, reforged into advantage.
Regulus climbed off the bed and rolled his wrists, stretched his neck. Hours of motionless meditation had left both stiff.
At the wardrobe, he pulled the doors open and drew out a formal robe in deep emerald. Heavy fabric, tailored close, the Black family crest embroidered in subtle relief along the collar and cuffs.
He dressed, fastened the buttons, straightened the collar.
The boy in the mirror looked clear-eyed. Pale, a shade drawn from the mental expenditure, but steady.
He needed to speak with his father.
Out of the bedroom, down the spiral staircase. The house was quiet.
Passing the dining room, he glanced inside. The long table had been cleared, the fireplace burning normally, as though the performance from a few hours ago had never happened.
At the study door, he raised a hand and rapped his knuckles against the wood three times.
Orion's voice came from within. "Come in."
He pushed the door open.
Orion sat behind the wide desk, several documents spread before him, though he wasn't reading them. A quill rested in his hand, its nib hovering above a sheet of parchment. The ink had nearly dried.
"Father." Regulus approached the desk.
Orion looked up. His gaze lingered on his son's face for a moment, then he gestured toward the high-backed chair opposite.
"Sit."
Regulus sat, hands resting naturally on his knees, the robe's hem falling to his ankles.
Orion set the quill down and leaned back. "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine." A steady nod. "The Dark Awakening has been dealt with."
Orion said nothing, only watched him. The concern in his eyes was plain.
Regulus gathered his thoughts.
"At its core, it's a highly concentrated body of dark knowledge carrying intense mental inducement and contamination. It erodes the user by displaying raw power and implanting distorted theory."
Orion's expression didn't shift. His fingers tapped once, twice against the armrest, signaling him to continue.
"It showed me a path to formidable magic rooted in pain and domination, along with visions of the power that path promised."
A slight shake of his head. "Seductive. But the trajectory was predetermined. The price was surrendering yourself entirely, accepting the darkness, merging with it."
Orion gave a small nod.
Regulus adjusted his posture. "Using Occlumency and some additional techniques, I've built a secure isolation zone within my mind."
Orion knew his son had his own methods when it came to magical research. He knew, too, that the boy's skill in mental magic ran deep. He wouldn't ask for specifics.
That was the understanding between them. Give space. Respect privacy. Judge by results.
"I've confined its influence to that zone. I can now study its knowledge indirectly without any contamination reaching my soul."
Regulus summed it up. "Think of it as a dangerous specimen locked in a cage. I can still extract useful information from it as research material."
Orion listened in silence, his gaze measuring.
Regulus's tone had been level throughout, his eyes clear and calm, a different person entirely from the shaken, fervent young man at the breakfast table.
As the explanation unfolded, the initial thread of worry in Orion's expression dissolved, replaced by quiet approval.
He knew his son. This composure, this methodical approach to a problem, was the real Regulus.
"So," Regulus said finally. "In the short term, accepting the gift earns us a measure of initial trust from Voldemort's side. It buys a more relaxed observation period."
He paused. "Long term, it also means he's invested more attention in me. The risk runs deeper."
"But we haven't lost the initiative entirely."
Orion was silent for a moment.
His fingers stilled on the armrest. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk's edge, hands clasped before him. The posture was more formal, the kind that preceded weighty matters.
But what he said was something else.
"Your mother..." His voice dropped half a register. "She was quite worked up today."
He knew Walburga's temperament and her fixations. He understood the additional pressure they placed on Regulus. As a father, he couldn't change his wife's nature. All he could do was make sure his son was aware.
Not a flicker crossed Regulus's face. As though he'd expected it.
"I understand," he said, and left it there.
He knew what his mother was. Her love and her obsession were two faces of the same coin. Letting either stir an emotional response would accomplish nothing. Handling his own affairs well was what mattered.
The subject closed without another word. Everything that needed saying lived in the silence.
This was another kind of understanding between them.
For the parts of the family that couldn't be changed: stay clear-eyed, maintain a measured distance, and keep the surface calm.