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Regulus heavily underestimated the sheer, magnetic appeal of 'exclusive parties' to isolated young people, and he certainly underestimated the intoxicating charm of violently burning money on magical fireworks...
The legendary 'Hog Party' out by Hagrid's hut instantly became the absolute, undisputed focus of student gossip for the next several weeks. Even several of the Professors, like Professor Flitwick, couldn't help but actively tease Regulus in the corridors, cheerfully reminding him to formally invite the faculty next time he decided to set the sky on fire.
But the absolute funniest, most highly tense moment occurred when Headmaster Dumbledore 'accidentally' bumped into him in the Great Hall.
The ancient wizard stopped, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles, and took the initiative to say: "Good morning, Mr. Black. I must say—that was a truly great party!"
"Thank you, Headmaster! I'll definitely, officially invite you next time," Regulus said, his voice dripping with flawless, polite sincerity, while his dark eyes locked onto Dumbledore's. Otherwise, Regulus thought cynically, how incredibly cold and lonely it must be to have to attend a teenager's party entirely invisibly.
This was officially the very first time Albus Dumbledore had ever spoken directly to Regulus. The political lines were being drawn.
However, none of this administrative posturing was a big deal to the young CEO—
Inside the quiet, dusty expanse of the Hogwarts library, the only ambient sounds were the soft rustling of turning pages and the sharp scratching of silver quills. The heavy scent of old parchment and floor wax hung in the air.
"You have got to be kidding me, Severus," Regulus stopped his quill mid-sentence, pointing the feathery tip directly at his friend. "Hog Party? The Hog Gang?"
I literally just held a single, highly successful networking party, Regulus thought, massaging his temples. How exactly did my corporate networking event instantly become suspected of being a highly organized mafia 'forming a gang for personal gain'?
"This specific name... the 'Pig Gang'... is it really okay?" Regulus muttered softly, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
The pun, though slightly late, had finally arrived with a vengeance.
"Yeah, absolutely! Lots of people in the dungeons are officially calling us that!" Severus nodded, his dark eyes shining excitedly. This was undeniably the very first time Snape had ever received so much positive, highly structured social attention since arriving at Hogwarts. "I honestly think the name is incredibly good! Think about it: Hogwarts, the Hog's Head Inn, the village of Hogsmeade... and now, our very own Hog Gang."
A highly visible, genuine hint of deep pride showed in his pale expression and rigid posture.
The Pig Gang... Regulus sighed internally, evaluating the branding. It certainly wasn't nearly as high-class or elegantly mysterious as the 'Order of the Phoenix', and it honestly wasn't even better than the highly edgy, chuunibyou-sounding 'Death Eaters'...
But ultimately, it rang true. It sounded incredibly pure, highly authentic, and 100% genuine to the gritty, grassroots nature of Hogwarts.
He had just aggressively started a highly violent Dueling Club, heavily funded an illegal extracurricular Alchemy research group, and now there was a highly popular Hog Party.
This is simply the fundamental democratic freedom of assembly and association, isn't it? Regulus shrugged.
"Pfft," James Potter, sitting quietly at an adjacent oak desk, suddenly burst into a loud, snorting laugh. Taking rapid advantage of Madam Pince's momentary inattention at the front desk, James quickly stopped laughing, pretending to cough into his fist. He leaned across the aisle and whispered loudly, "Regulus, logically speaking, as the undisputed leader of the Hog Gang... doesn't that officially make you the 'Pig Head'?"
"And that perfectly means the filthy Hog's Head Inn will formally be our criminal base of operations from now on," Sirius chimed in from behind a massive Charms textbook, completely unable to hold back his own laughter.
"If anyone is the official 'Pig Head' of Hogwarts, it should absolutely be the Headmaster. It's definitely not my turn yet," Regulus muttered helplessly, his deadpan delivery causing all the surrounding little wizards to instantly snicker into their parchment.
With a ridiculous, highly un-aristocratic nickname like that firmly attached to his reputation, his icy Slytherin image was taking a massive hit.
"Oh, right. Sirius, I actually need your Gryffindor influence for something," Regulus naturally turned around in his chair and smoothly handed a thick stack of recent Daily Prophet newspapers directly to his older brother. "Could you and James casually, loudly pretend to be reading the fiction submission section of these specific newspapers in a highly crowded place at school later...?"
Remus, Sirius, and James immediately gathered around the desk. On the heavily ignored, ink-smudged submission column at the very end of the newspaper, a bold, serialized novel title was prominently displayed—
"Serialized Novel: The Witcher - Blood of Elves"
He knew perfectly well what a 'Witch' was in this world, Sirius thought, frowning at the text. But what in Merlin's name is a 'Witcher'?
Of course, to Regulus, it was the absolute, world-famous, triple-A game series and legendary fantasy saga. Andrzej Sapkowski, Regulus thought proudly, the highly prejudiced, stagnant British fantasy world of the 1970s desperately needs your literary masterpiece!
"This is an original, highly political work by a close pen pal of mine named Andrzej," Regulus lied smoothly, without a single second of hesitation. "I don't actually know his true identity, but based on his prose, he should be an incredibly talented Polish wizard, possibly a senior student currently attending the Durmstrang Institute."
"Andrzej was heavily, tragically inspired by the horrific atrocities of Grindelwald's first Global Wizarding War, where absolutely everyone mindlessly slaughtered each other, leading directly to the terrifying, further decline of ancient wizarding bloodlines. He wrote this fantasy novel as an allegory. I think the world-building is absolutely, unbelievably good, so I aggressively recommended that he submit it to the British presses."
"Where exactly did you meet a Polish Durmstrang student?" Sirius asked casually, scanning the first paragraph.
"I securely posted a few highly complex, theoretical Alchemy questions in the international classifieds of The Daily Prophet, and he brilliantly replied to my post. We realized we had a massive amount of common academic topics, so we gradually became secure pen pals."
Considering the highly documented fact that Regulus already received massive stacks of corporate owl letters from merchants almost every single morning, the lie made absolute, perfect logical sense. Sirius nodded and immediately started reading the text.
The young Mr. Black didn't quite understand the modern writer's golden rule yet: The more hyperspecific the details provided, the faker the cover story usually is.
The classic, gritty Western fantasy trope of a highly satisfying, violent read is infinitely, universally charming. Sirius and Remus were almost immediately, deeply drawn in by the haunting, ancient elf prophecy printed at the very beginning of the serialized story—
"Ess'tuath esse! This is entirely inevitable! Heed the signs!"
There were even incredibly complex, fully realized, real Elvish linguistic words heavily mixed directly into the English text!
Regulus watched their captivated expressions with a tiny hint of nervous anticipation.
In his past life, he had been a massive, hardcore super-fan of The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt. He had obsessively read the entire original Witcher novel series cover-to-cover, and had even painstakingly read three of them in English because he couldn't find properly translated Chinese resources online at the time...
In the rich, bloody Witcher lore, the tragic historical parts about the elves—especially the legendary elf Aelirenn, famously known as the "White Rose of Shaerrawedd," who foolishly incited the passionate young elves to blindly follow her into battle against the humans, only to end in utter, catastrophic defeat, causing the elven race to become almost entirely extinct... it could flawlessly, brutally be used to politically allude to the current, highly prejudiced experiences tearing apart the Wizarding World.
The later, violent disputes between different magical races, the massive political factions within the same race of elves, the brutal oppression of humans, and even the high-concept travel between different magical worlds... it simply offered far, far too much brilliant thematic material to write about. Using Sapkowski's lore to heavily, metaphorically represent the current, toxic blood-purity issues of the British Wizarding World was an absolute piece of cake.
Regulus's ultimate, highly manipulative wish was to ghost-write a massive, highly political fanfiction strictly based on the established world-view of The Witcher 3, actively blending its heavy themes to create a highly modified, allegorical story that conservative British Wizards would actually enjoy reading... The brutal protagonists would naturally still be Geralt of Rivia and Princess Ciri, the undisputed favorites of global gamers.
A much more tragic, highly powerful, mutated Witcher. A fierce little princess possessing amazing, world-breaking time and space magic...
Of course, Regulus schemed, on the absolute surface, it's just a thrilling, harmless adventure story about monster-hunting Witchers and dying elves. And the supposed inspiration is publicly said to come from Grindelwald's war. But in absolute reality, I'm secretly, aggressively injecting my own highly progressive political ideas into the text. Why not just casually use the most popular piece of fiction in the country to massively, culturally promote some of their new "Hog Gang" progressive theories?
What exactly were the Hog Gang's core political theories?
Shouldn't they be far too progressive for the 1970s? Or should they be aggressively progressive, operating on the brutal philosophy that: "To effectively deal with highly entrenched enemies and anti-people fascist forces like the Death Eaters, one must violently overcorrect the system"?
Ah, it's simply too much philosophical trouble right now, Regulus decided. When I eventually stand completely unchallenged at the absolute peak of the wizarding economy, I'll just violently beat all the blood-purists into economic submission. I still have plenty of time!
For a long, highly focused moment, the absolute only sound around Regulus's desk was the rapid, eager rustling of cheap newspaper pages...
"Mate, that is incredibly cool! Is there any more of this?!" Remus finally gasped, having quickly, aggressively finished reading several full pages of the tight text. He eagerly pulled the distant, scheming Regulus violently back to reality.
"Andrzej said he is aggressively trying to publish exactly one new serialized section every single week," Regulus said with a perfectly practiced, supportive smile. "He seems incredibly busy with his heavy academic work, often working grueling overtime. I actually had to personally help him legally contact the editors at The Daily Prophet just to secure the publishing contract."
"So, could you guys please help actively promote it around Gryffindor Tower...?"
(Ah, the classic, incredibly humble plight of the modern fanfiction author begging for engagement.)
Getting up and quietly saying goodbye from the library tables, James Potter caught Regulus's eye and gave him a highly exaggerated, incredibly meaningful look that clearly communicated: You can absolutely count on me tonight.
Tonight was the highly anticipated night the Gryffindors heavily planned to silently 'borrow' the ancient text Strongly Protective Enchantments and Shifting Forms (regarding the Animagus transformation) directly from the restricted, heavily warded section of the library.
It's definitely, legally not stealing! Regulus reasoned. How can a highly dedicated scholar's passionate pursuit of academic business ever truly be considered stealing?
Regulus became highly cheerful entirely on his own.
"Why on earth are those lazy lions suddenly so incredibly, aggressively keen on studying?" Severus asked, his dark eyes narrowing. He glanced back suspiciously at the Gryffindor team, who were still sitting honestly and quietly in the library.
Those reckless Gryffindor guys had literally piled massive, thick encyclopedias like a small mountain on their desk, blocking themselves completely from Madam Pince's view, without making even a single trace of their usual, annoying playful noise.
"Honestly, who knows?" Regulus said smoothly. He kept his dark eyes wide open, absolutely picture-perfect, without blinking a single time.