Although the black, ghost-like figure appeared unarmed, Regulus Black could still sense an immense danger. After all, casting spells without a wand wasn't all that difficult for a wizard—the difference between using a wand and not using one was merely in the amplification effect.
It was like comparing a handgun bullet to a rocket—though their power differed greatly, both could be lethal in a single shot.
Naturally, the black figure was furious at having its prey stolen. And with Regulus standing on guard, the two were now in a tense standoff.
"Regulus Black! I thought you were already dead. I didn't expect you to be such a coward—hiding for over a decade."
A cold voice, like a snake licking its way from neck to earlobe, came from within the shadowy figure.
"I didn't expect you to die so incompletely either. Have you really spent all these years just waiting for a resurrection?"
With a wave of his wand, Regulus Black cast Summon Undead, calling forth all seven of the skeletal mages from his skill set—
Amazon, Assassin, Necromancer, Barbarian, Sorcerer, Druid, and Paladin skeleton mages lined up in formation.
In the game, each class had both physical and magical attack skills. In Regulus Black's system, Summon Skeleton produced skeleton warriors with purely physical attacks, while Summon Undead brought forth skeleton mages focused solely on magical attacks.
Since greetings had been exchanged, it was time to begin.
"Drive him back~!"
Regulus never expected to kill the opponent outright—his order was to force a retreat.
Amazon: "Repel!"
Assassin: "Mind Hammer!"
Necromancer: "Amplify Damage!"
Barbarian: "Howl!"
Sorcerer: "Psychic Transmission!"
Druid: "Molten Boulder!"
Paladin: "Blessed Hammer!"
After this round of attacks, the black, phantom-like figure vanished completely. Regulus Black even thought Voldemort had truly been destroyed.
It had to be said, the necromancer skills that came with the system were surprisingly effective—as long as you had enough imagination. And with this display of power, Voldemort would undoubtedly grow to hate him, but would also be forced to tread more cautiously.
Pulling out the Marauder's Map, Regulus saw that Quirrell had stopped about 300 meters away. Given the conditions of the Forbidden Forest at night, it would be impossible to see someone deliberately hiding at that distance. Whether it was the summoned skeleton mages or the magic they used, they were all things Voldemort had never encountered before. Lacking proper intel, retreating had become his only option—not to mention, the host body he was possessing, Quirrell, wasn't unscathed either.
Most of the attacks just now were psychic and curse-based. Only the Druid's Molten Boulder left a visible trace—a scorched path and a cracked stone still slowly cooling and extinguishing its flames.
Feigning composure, Regulus Black waved his wand theatrically to recall the summoned skeleton mages.
With such a ruckus in the Forbidden Forest, staying unnoticed was nearly impossible. Regulus could already hear Hagrid's voice approaching in the distance. As the forest's keeper, there was no way Hagrid would ignore the firelight and barbarian howls echoing through the woods.
"Oh! Mr. Black, what are you doing here?"
Hagrid stepped forward with a large lantern in hand, paying no mind to the brambles in his path. He simply crushed his way through them, carving out a new trail—practically a walking bulldozer.
"Hagrid! You should know how many unicorns live in the Forbidden Forest. Someone just killed one right here. I tried to stop them, but they fled with the body."
Yes, that was how it had to be—it had to be someone else hunting the unicorn. Regulus Black had merely failed to stop them. As for the unicorn's body? He still had use for it—there was no way he was handing it over.
"What?! Someone actually attacked a unicorn? Why would anyone do such a thing?"
Hagrid was shocked—and heartbroken. He loved all the creatures of the forest, but especially the sacred unicorns.
"I think they were after its blood. Since you like raising all kinds of magical creatures, this situation shouldn't be unfamiliar to you."
After speaking, Regulus pointed out the scene to Hagrid, along with the positions of both parties.
"I'm going to report this to Dumbledore. I'll leave this area to you."
Leaving the half-giant to grieve over the unicorn that could no longer be laid to rest, Regulus Black turned and made his way back to the school.
According to the Marauder's Map, Quirrell had approached during the conversation, then followed Regulus back toward the castle.
"Canary Cream."
Regulus Black arrived outside the Headmaster's office on the eighth floor. Once the gargoyle confirmed the password of the day, the spiraling staircase revealed itself.
Dumbledore, already dressed in his blue pajamas embroidered with moons and stars, was waiting for him.
"Would you like some fruit infusion tea, Regulus?"
"No. But if you have any Firewhisky, I'll take a glass."
Anyone with even a shred of common sense would know not to consume anything in Dumbledore's office. The old man had a well-known habit of adding things to food and drinks—no one wanted to end up gulping down Veritaserum thinking it was honey, after all!
But today, Regulus Black needed to earn Dumbledore's trust—so he was more than prepared to willingly ingest a bit of Veritaserum himself.
Dumbledore paused, then said with a trace of embarrassment, "As Headmaster, I never drink alcohol. So I'm afraid I must decline your request."
Regulus raised an eyebrow and insisted, "Then I'll have your best coffee. It must be rich and fragrant—and the creamer, silky smooth."
Clearly, this was a not-so-subtle request for Dumbledore to go ahead and spike it.
"Perhaps you could start by telling me what you encountered in the Forbidden Forest?"
Dumbledore was puzzled by Regulus Black's attitude. What had gotten into him? The boy usually wouldn't even accept a drop of water.
"I'd rather wait until the other professors arrive. That way, I won't have to repeat myself."
Regulus was firm—he wasn't going to say a word until he got his coffee.
So, when the four Heads of House had all assembled, they walked in to find Dumbledore smiling cheerfully as he poured a cup of coffee for Assistant Professor Black.
Dumbledore's tea and snacks weren't exactly known for being safe. The other Heads might not think much of it, but for Snape—who had spent years supplying Veritaserum—the moment felt like a stampede of horses thundering through his chest.
With elegance—and a rather bold thirst—Regulus downed the entire cup of top-quality coffee like it was water, then set the cup down and stood up.
"Everyone, I have something important to announce tonight: Voldemort has returned."
The room fell into stunned silence. That one line had perfectly shattered the atmosphere. When Voldemort's return becomes common rumor in the future, and the truth lies plainly before them, there will still be Ministry officials like Fudge refusing to face reality.
"Tonight, I was on patrol duty. Around midnight, I saw a figure heading into the Forbidden Forest. I followed—only to discover it wasn't a wandering student, but a very strange figure. His target was a unicorn. By the time I arrived, the unicorn had already been killed. I fought him with powerful spells, but he seemed unharmed. In the end, he escaped unscathed with the body."
"Mr. Black, how can you be sure it was Voldemort?"
Professor Flitwick had to climb onto a chair to direct his question toward Regulus Black.
"If you knew my background, Professor Flitwick, you wouldn't be surprised. I was once a Death Eater."
That shut down any argument Flitwick might have had. Though he'd always thought well of Black—kind, concerned about students—he had almost forgotten that Regulus once belonged to the ranks of Voldemort's followers.
Among all the professors present, only Snape could truly relate. His past was closest to Black's.
"How are you certain?"
Snape's left hand instinctively moved to his right forearm—where the Dark Mark, burned into him by Voldemort, still lingered.
If Voldemort had truly returned, he would be able to summon Snape—or any Death Eater—through that mark.
"You and I have both spoken with him face-to-face. As core members of the Death Eaters, that chilling, snake-like aura Voldemort gives off—cold, slippery, damp—there's no way I could be mistaken."
Regulus Black's words sent a wave of that same cold, slippery dampness through every professor in the room.
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