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Regarding the highly restricted, heavily warded perimeter of the Restricted Section—Regulus absolutely wasn't entirely unable to organically find a compliant Professor (like Slughorn) to legally get him a signed permission slip. But, utilizing his cold, corporate risk assessment, he simply didn't want to take that massive, unnecessary political risk.
If he actually went through official channels to actively borrow highly advanced, dangerously volatile books like Strongly Protective Enchantments and Shifting Forms, the notoriously strict and paranoid librarian, Madam Pince, would almost certainly, immediately report his reading habits directly to the senior Professors and Headmaster Dumbledore. Then, his ultimate, highly illegal purpose for reading it... well, even a completely blind person could probably clearly see what the Black heir was plotting.
So, acting exactly like a cautious game developer, Regulus decided to completely outsource the dangerous fetch-quest. He actively chose to firmly believe in the raw, chaotic strength of the Gryffindor "Trio"—a highly reckless rogue faction who were currently, canonically blessed by the ultimate stealth item, the "Deathly Hallows," and who had successfully run rampant, breaking major rules at Hogwarts for several years without ever being formally expelled.
Heh heh, Regulus chuckled darkly in his dormitory. Even if Potter isn't entirely reliable on a stealth mission, don't we still have our highly motivated, soon-to-be relative, Lupin, to keep them focused?
When it came down to the harsh, practical reality of actively "borrowing" priceless, restricted books from the school library in the dead of night, Remus Lupin was initially, absolutely, fundamentally against it on pure moral principle.
However, as Headmaster Dumbledore would one day famously say: "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends." What's more, the crushing, overwhelming weight of the situation sat heavily on his scarred shoulders: James and Sirius were violently risking expulsion and Azkaban-level charges to do this highly dangerous heist entirely for him.
Lupin's internal feelings were an incredibly, agonizingly complex knot of deep gratitude, absolute terror, and profound guilt. In the very end, his strict prefect morals finally softened and violently gave in. He formally decided to actively participate in the covert operation. At the very least, Remus reasoned nervously, if I am physically there with them, I can make vastly more logistical preparations and aggressively control the inevitable collateral damage.
By now, in their third year, the boys had physically grown much taller, and their shoulders had broadened. James's legendary Invisibility Cloak could now only barely, awkwardly cover the three of them if they hunched over painfully. Fortunately, Sirius—always the brilliant, pragmatic prodigy—had actively, successfully learned the highly advanced Disillusionment Charm over the summer. The camouflage effect could currently reliably last for at least five solid minutes, though it was highly volatile and hit-or-miss afterwards. Still, if there was a sudden, catastrophic accident, the backup spell could barely hold the line and buy them enough time to scatter.
Standing in the freezing, drafty stone corridor directly outside the heavy oak doors of the library, James excitedly patted his friend's tense shoulder, softly but urgently interrupting Lupin's spiraling thoughts:
"Remus, let's go, we need to hurry."
Seeing the wild, incredibly excited glint shining brightly in Potter's hazel eyes, clearly vibrating with absolute impatience to break the rules, Lupin swallowed hard, gritted his teeth, and nodded tightly.
Ah, sweet Merlin, they really, genuinely make you worry... Remus sighed internally, ducking under the shimmering fabric.
It was incredibly late at night, well past curfew, and the library was strictly closed. The cavernous interior was pitch black, smelling heavily of ancient dust, dry parchment, and lemon-scented floor wax. The only illumination was a pale, ghostly layer of silver moonlight falling in sharp, geometric slants across the towering shelves whenever the heavy autumn clouds briefly moved away from the moon outside the high windows.
Even without being magically invisible, you could barely see your own hand in front of your face, let alone any creeping figures.
Huddled tightly under the stifling, warm confines of the Invisibility Cloak, the Trio each tightly held their drawn wands in sweaty palms. Ridiculously, they all wore highly comical, heavily modified Muggle night-vision goggles strapped tightly to their heads—courtesy of Sirius's summer tinkering. Having meticulously, obsessively scouted the library's physical layout several times during the day, they slipped silently between the towering, shadowy rows of bookshelves exactly like sleek fish entering a dark pond.
The Restricted Section was located at the very back of the sprawling library. The three boys carefully, agonizingly slowly stepped high over the thick, velvet-covered rope that legally separated these highly cursed, screaming books from the rest of the mundane collection.
This absolutely wasn't the Trio's very first time trespassing in the Restricted Section.
The last time, and officially the only time they had tried this—back in their first year—an overly eager James Potter, who had literally just unwrapped the Invisibility Cloak for Christmas and was even more recklessly curious about absolutely everything in the castle, had visited the Restricted Section at midnight and casually pulled out a massive, heavy book bound entirely in rotting black leather and tarnished silver.
After the cursed book had automatically, violently snapped open in his hands, it had actually let out a horrific, blood-curdling, deafening scream—a literal, physical sonic attack that shattered the silence of the library, terrifying them beyond absolute compare. Fortunately, Remus had reacted with terrifying werewolf reflexes, violently shoving the screaming book back onto the shelf and slamming it shut. This was immediately followed by a frantic, blind, absolutely terrified dash for the exit. They had barely, miraculously managed to physically brush past the furious, wheezing caretaker, Filch, who had been instantly drawn by the deafening noise...
After surviving this incredibly vivid, highly traumatizing near-death experience, the Trio—who honestly weren't particularly fond of quietly reading thick books in the first place—had absolutely never, ever voluntarily visited the Restricted Section again.
However, because of that trauma, they could at least proudly boast that they intimately, deeply understood the lethal, physical risks of the Restricted Section vastly better than any ordinary, rule-abiding students.
There were simply too many people crammed under the shimmering cloak, making their physical movements incredibly awkward. The Restricted Section was massively large and architecturally complex, filled with dead ends. The three boys walked agonizingly slowly through the dark, narrow, dust-choked aisles for nearly twenty tense minutes before finally, successfully finding the exact oak bookshelf meticulously marked on the glowing route map provided by Regulus.
"We need to be careful... Don't make the same mistake this time," Lupin whispered again, his scarred face completely pale and full of absolute, terrified caution under his night-vision goggles. "We'll 'only' take Strongly Protective Enchantments."
"Hey, I'll go!" James's gaze frantically scanned the thick spines of the books resting on the high, out-of-reach shelves. Eager to finally try out his magic, he aggressively raised his mahogany wand; he had recently become completely, utterly obsessed with mastering the Summoning Charm.
"Don't use magic, it's not safe," Sirius hissed, immediately shooting his arm out from under the cloak to violently shove James's wand hand down. "The magical signature might trigger a ward. I'll go get a small ladder. You two just stand here and don't move."
Sirius quietly, flawlessly cast a microscopic, heavily muffled "Lumos" to light the very tip of his wand. He smoothly slipped out from under the stifling heat of the Invisibility Cloak and tiptoed silently across the stone floor towards a rolling wooden ladder Madam Pince frequently used for organizing the highest books. He bent his knees deeply and carefully, powerfully lifted the heavy wood entirely off the ground to avoid making the wheels squeak.
As he lifted the ladder, his wandlight briefly illuminated the shelf behind it. Resting heavily in the shadows was a thick, incredibly large book with a peeling, pitch-black cover. On the cracked spine, a long string of ancient Latin words was written in what looked horrifyingly exactly like dried, blood-red ink. Sirius, who was currently taking advanced Latin, casually glanced at it distractedly—
Potentia Animarum
The Power of Souls? Sirius translated roughly in his head. It looked like it might technically also be related to the deep magic of the Animagus transformation?
Sirius didn't think about the creepy book anymore. His focus was absolute. He carried the heavy small ladder back to the target bookshelf, gently, silently put the wooden legs down onto the stone floor, and stepped up onto the first rung.
Just then, a very light, distinct set of footsteps echoed from the stone corridor outside the Restricted Section.
Step. Step. Step. The sound was exceptionally, terrifyingly clear in the absolute silence of the midnight library.
?!
Sirius, his physical reflexes keen and highly trained from dueling Regulus all summer, didn't even bother attempting to continue stealing the book. He violently pointed his finger towards the corridor to warn the others, then pointed aggressively towards the dark shadows at the other end of the massive bookshelf—then he quickly, tightly held his breath. He silently, flawlessly cast the highly unfamiliar, deeply complex Disillusionment Charm over his own body. He felt the cold sensation of a cracked egg sliding down his back as his skin and robes rapidly took on the exact dark, dusty texture of the wooden bookshelf behind him, and he cautiously, silently moved to the left to flank the intruder.
They couldn't physically see each other anymore, but the absolute, instinctual understanding between the Marauders was still flawlessly there—
Sirius pointed left, meaning he would aggressively flank left—James and Remus blindly exchanged terrified, wide-eyed glances under the heavy cloak, instantly understood the tactical maneuver, and remained perfectly, absolutely still, not daring to breathe.
The elite adventure team, highly experienced in avoiding capture.
( ¯︶¯ )
But at this ungodly hour of the night, who else could possibly, logically come down to the highly dangerous Restricted Section?
Another thirsty, overly ambitious reader desperately seeking forbidden knowledge? James thought wildly.
...
A heavy, exhausting sigh came whistling through the cold air. The sound was incredibly, distinctly familiar—
It absolutely wasn't the wheezing, rasping breath of Argus Filch.
Just as the three frozen boys were desperately trying to accurately identify the sound in their panicked minds, a portly, incredibly heavy-set figure wrapped tightly in a thick, dark green velvet cloak appeared completely out of thin air at the far end of the bookshelf. A glowing wand tip illuminated the intruder's face—
Slightly sparse, heavily pomaded straw-coloured hair, thick ginger-yellow stubble dotting a massive double chin, bulging, watery eyes, and a highly uncharacteristic, terrifying look of sheer, unconcealed anxiety twisting his usually jovial features. It turned out to be the notoriously lazy Head of Slytherin House, their very own Potions Professor—
Horace Slughorn.
Professor Slughorn genuinely seemed to have walked entirely too fast from the dungeons earlier. He held his massive waist with one hand, aggressively breathing heavily with his mouth wide open, his short, rattling gasps echoing loudly among the silent bookshelves.
Honestly, Regulus was really, absolutely right; wizards absolutely must do physical cardio exercise, or the physical exhaustion makes any complex spell highly prone to lethal errors— Sirius, who was currently staying perfectly, invisibly put against the wood, suddenly found his adrenaline-fueled thoughts drifting to incredibly strange, pragmatic places.
On the other side of the aisle, Slughorn, who had finally managed to catch his breath, cautiously approached the exact bookshelf Sirius had just abandoned. He squatted down with a heavy grunt, his knees popping loudly, and aggressively squinted his bulging eyes in the wandlight, clearly, desperately looking for a specific, highly important object.
He clearly wasn't at all worried about being accidentally discovered by patrols—he had just successfully, highly manipulatively sent Filch completely away to the other side of the castle with highly detailed, entirely false information to desperately look for "a massive group of violent Little Wizards preparing to duel secretly at midnight" near the third-floor Trophy Room. He had plenty of time.
Finally, his pudgy fingers found their target. The heavy, blood-inked book, Potentia Animarum, was violently pulled out from the bottom shelf and placed heavily onto the dusty stone ground by the Potions Master.
Slughorn, sweating profusely, carefully, highly anxiously chanted a few highly complex, muttered detection spells before slowly, terrifiedly opening the heavy black cover of the book. During this entire, agonizing process, he kept his glowing wand aggressively pointed directly at the open pages, acting exactly as if he were facing down a highly lethal, terrifying dark enemy, and thick, heavy beads of cold sweat appeared rapidly on his massive forehead...
The invisible Trio watched him in absolute, stunned silence. They watched the esteemed Professor frantically browse the rotting table of contents, then quickly, aggressively turn to a highly specific, dog-eared page deep in the tome, flipping through the ancient text rapidly, his eyes scanning the Latin...
They honestly didn't know exactly how much tense time had passed in the dark.
"Good... good... the description isn't very clear," Slughorn finally whispered into the dark. Whatever terrifying text he had just read actually seemed to make him sigh heavily with massive, profound relief.
He took a crumpled silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, aggressively wiped the heavy sweat from his shiny forehead, and stared down at the open book for a long, silent while, looking exactly as if he were desperately trying to physically burn a hole straight through the cursed pages with his terrified gaze alone.
"I suppose..." Slughorn muttered again, his voice trembling slightly in the cold air, "no one needs to know about such evil magic anymore."
What evil magic?! The Trio, with their ears perked up to the absolute maximum under the cloak, heard his highly disturbing, muttered words perfectly clearly. A massive, terrifying question mark simultaneously, violently appeared in all of their stunned minds.