Chapter 6

It was the next day and Regulus' portrait had been returned to the Vault as his Aunt had decided to come and look at him every hour or so. At first, Harry had been taken aback about why she would be so interested in looking at him more than she absolutely had to. Then he saw that she always looked at exactly same place. The small stool that acted as his bedside table and had the small glass figurine that Professor McGonagall had made him. He had asked himself wonderingly why she would do that.

The voice inside his head had replied with glee, 'Probably trying to find out how long the spell's going to last.'

'But wouldn't she already know? After all, Professor McGonagall already said told me it would last for the week.' Harry asked back. It was strange holding a conversation inside his own head but not very. He was glad to realize that he was starting to get used to the strange.

'And you think she'd believe something that a person that she thinks of as a freak said?' The voice had asked back mockingly.

Whatever the reason, the result was that he was stuck reading books, lying on his stomach on his bed, and even though he understood the need to find out all he could about this new world, he couldn't help feeling sleepy. It was just so boring reading about how which Headmaster made which rule in what part of the castle. He turned a page, hoping that the next page would prove more engaging. No use, he thought in dismay. At least the previous page had had the drawing of a man. This one was full of words and the Wizards didn't seem to have discovered typewriting yet. He quickly turned towards almost the back of the book and saw that it looked typewritten at least.

He turned back to the page he had been at and started reading again. The faster he got it completed, the faster his eyes would get a rest from this weird calligraphy. Almost without knowing it, he fell asleep, using Hogwarts a History as a pillow.

He observed the weak little creature before him as his follower cast a spell on him and the goblin didn't even put up a fight. He hadn't thought that he would come along with the fool as he tried to get the stone, but the incident the previous day had changed his mind. He hadn't changed his mind very much but the memories of the brat had shown quite clearly that he was just what he looked like, an eleven year old brat. In fact, he had come across as more similar to himself than he could have thought. He would have expected the old man to do everything to prevent that.

The possession was still very raw and so, even though he could see what the man saw, he couldn't actually affect what he did. Instead, he was stuck on the back of the head more often than not. Nevertheless, everything went according to plan. The spell was cast just before entering the tunnels, where any spell cast would send out an alarm and a little tinkering with the wards that were anchored around the pillars in the main hall beforehand made it possible now to simply cast a blanketing charm on the cart itself to stop it sending out another alarm that a goblin was in trouble.

"Take me to Vault Seven Hundred and Thirteen." The goblin obediently got into the cart and he felt the body he was riding quickly get inside behind him. They were off and even though he remembered feeling a slight queasiness when he had ridden these carts before, it was didn't happen this time, probably because the body he was in didn't feel it. It was as they were going down that he saw the half giant that the old man always favored huddling down in his own cart as he rushed the opposite way. He sneered at the sight.

Before long, they were at the Vault. It had no key hole, which might cause a little trouble since such Vaults usually worked with blood from the owner. His follower said, "Open the door."

The goblin stroked the door with one of its long fingers and the door simply melted away. Ah! It was one of those vaults. He had briefly debated about using these precautions in his own vault but had decided that he'd like to know who tried to steal from him as soon as possible.

He strode in, looking for the little stone but came to a halt when he saw nothing. He could feel sweat sliding down the body's cheek as his follower started getting nervous. Never mind, he took a little more control of the body though it hurt and ran a bit of magic he wrestled from the body in front of his eyes. It worked and to his growing anger, he saw that there was nothing in the Vault, not even under magical protections. Nothing non magical would have been able to hide something so magical from his gaze.

He was fuming and he could feel a hiss pass out of what passed as his lips. Controlling himself, he said, "Wipe its memories and put false ones in. and don't you dare mess up! I want no one to know that you came here and failed! He would certainly up the protections then!"

The body he was inhabiting nodded shakily and went around casting the spells. He could feel how the man had originally thought of only wiping the goblin's memories, which would have certainly given them away. In a way, it was lucky that he came here after all.

Harry woke up with a start. He had had such a strange dream! He rubbed his eyes before settling down on the bed. His scar was throbbing, he realized in surprise and rubbed that too. It felt very tender and he looked at his fingers, trying to decide whether he had scratched it open or something. No, he saw with relief. There was no blood on his fingers and he got up slowly to go to the bathroom. Maybe splashing some cold water on his forehead would make him feel better.

It was three days later that he finally got up the courage to send Hedwig, his new owl, with a letter to Professor Quirrell. He had debated over whether to send one to McGonagall instead but Regulus had firmly kicked that option out, without even giving a reason. Moreover, he wasn't eager to trouble his teachers. They had seemed, if not happy, then resigned to the fact that they had to escort him all over Diagon Alley.

He was sitting on the bed and reading The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, he had reached the pages about the Dark Lady Malvania Malfoy, who had fled to Britain with her family from France. Some of the things written about her made him wonder whether these things were really possible or if wizards were just gullible. He decided to ask the portrait of Regulus Black.

He turned to the painting and noticed that the man wasn't there. It had been a huge shock the first time he'd found the man gone from the painting. He had started wondering in panic if being in a non-magical place made paintings die while shouting his name when Regulus simply slid into the frame and asked in irritation, "What?"

Since then, it had been a usual occurrence to find the young man gone. Evidently, he had been painted in his library, and his parents had paid the painter extra to paint the entire Black family library with him. Harry couldn't even begin to imagine how long that took. Regulus wasn't much help either as all he knew was that many of the books simply had their title printed and not the whole book. New ones kept being added every so often. Unfortunately, the books that he wanted Harry to read only had a few pages printed. It was one of the many parts of magic that Harry couldn't understand and that Regulus had never bothered finding out.

"Regulus?" Harry called out at that moment. It took a few moments but Regulus popped out from somewhere and asked with a raised eyebrow, "Yes?"

Harry asked excitedly and with a little trepidation, still afraid that Regulus might be annoyed at having to answer his question, even though he had told him that Harry was to ask him anything he felt like and not risk making a fool of himself in front of someone not a part of the family, "Could Malvania Malfoy really turn people mad just by looking in their eyes?"

Regulus blinked at him before asking, "Who?"

While anyone else would have looked confused, Regulus looked as if it was completely acceptable that he wouldn't the name and it was Harry's fault for asking in the first place. Harry really wanted to learn how to do that. Still, instead of saying that, which would have inflated the man's already big ego, Harry explained, "The Dark Lady Malvania Malfoy. She came to Britain from France and became a Dark Lady. She escaped from France, though they don't say why she escaped."

Regulus face showed comprehension as he answered, "I remember. There was something about incest. Great Aunt Cassiopeia said something about running from a member of the family but it wasn't of much use, was it. Out current batch of Malfoys are descended from her."

"Great Aunt Cassiopeia?" Harry asked.

"My maternal grandfather's sister. She might still be alive, in which case you should meet her as soon as possible. Though not before gaining the acceptance of the Black wards. She'll gut you where you stand if you do that."

Harry chuckled slightly but stopped when he saw Regulus' amused look. Regulus commented, "She was always very fond of the practice of beheading the house elves when they grew too old to work properly."

Harry stared at him before asking hesitantly, "You're joking right?"

Regulus said, "The heads are mounted at our townhouse."

"So you have a townhouse!" Harry cried excitedly.

Regulus shot him an amused look as he said, "Yes, I do. And if you manage to find a Black house, you'll have it too and then you can leave this filth."

Harry refrained from telling him not to call it filth. Regulus never listened, nor did Harry feel too particular about it. Instead, he asked in frustration, "Who ever made that stupid rule anyway? That a new heir couldn't get to the houses till he found them on his own?"

Regulus looked at him disapprovingly as he scolded, "The rule is not stupid. Just because you don't know the reason does not mean one does not exist. I'd prefer it if you stopped behaving like a Mudblood. You might have been raised as one but that doesn't change that Wizarding blood runs in your veins and you have to prove yourself worthy of it."

"What's a Mudblood anyway?" Harry asked rudely.

"Someone magical born of two Muggles," Regulus responded.

"Oh! Professor McGonagall said it was Muggleborn." Harry asked in confusion.

"You might call them that, but their children will certainly be called Mudbloods, unless of course, you'd like to call them Muggleborns too, ?" Regulus asked sarcastically.

"But why call them Mudblood?" Harry asked. He was starting to get really angry. Whatever it might be, Mudblood did not feel like a good word and he was tired of people calling his mother bad names. He had to bear it from the Dursleys and he certainly wasn't about to take it from Regulus as well. He wasn't about to simply accept the fact that all the members of his family had a horrible opinion of his mother.

Regulus gave him a look that seemed to imply that no one had ever asked him that question before. Finally, he replied with an unsure look on his face, "Because they have mud in their blood?"

Harry stared at the portrait before saying in disgust, "I can't even think where you got that idea. How on earth, do you think anyone's going to live if they have mud in their blood? People get infections and die if even tiny pieces of dirt that can't even be seen get in their wounds, how can they possibly survive with actual mud in their very blood?"

Regulus looked as if someone had just hit him on the head for a moment before he rallied and demanded, "How do you explain that they simply stop bleeding when hurt even though the skin doesn't regrow?"

Harry gave out a disbelieving laugh before saying incredulously, "That's due to something called platelets I think! They stop the bleeding because by the time the skin grows over, we'd have bled out!"

Regulus said smugly, "That's what magic's for."

Harry pointed out, "Except Muggles don't have it do they?"

Regulus looked disgruntled as he asked rudely, "And this plate-let isn't mud?"

Harry looked sheepish as he answered, "It's just something my Science teacher in school said in passing. Something about how our blood is really special and should not be wasted."

Regulus looked at him in bafflement.

Harry felt embarrassed as he mumbled, "I think he was trying to tell us to stop fighting by telling us how our blood was very important and losing it just because we didn't like someone was very silly."

"Don't mumble," was the first automatic reply from Regulus before he asked, looking as if he couldn't believe it himself. "What else did this teacher say?"

"That our blood had three things. Red cells, white cells and platelets. The red ones carried air around our body, the white ones fought diseases, and I think he wouldn't have said any more except one of the kids asked and so he said that the platelets kept us from bleeding out by clotting." Musing upon it, Harry said confidingly, "It was going pretty well till he said that."

Regulus was looking at him as if he had gone mad as he asked, "Did you say cells? The Muggles think there are cells in their blood now? What do they think they're keeping prisoner?"

"The food? And the air?" Harry asked, unsure himself.

He hadn't really bothered paying much attention in class since he knew that whatever happened, he'd have to get worse marks than Dudley or else get punished. He had come up with the brilliant plan to actually learn everything but then simply get a few questions wrong on purpose. It hadn't worked out very well and he's been locked in his cupboard for two days, allowed out only twice for going to the bathroom and fed only a couple of pieces of dry bread and some water for breakfast and lunch. It was much safer to actually not pay much attention to class instead and so that was what he had done.

Regulus made a derisive sound. It would have been a snort in anyone else but Regulus didn't snort. He asked in amusement, "What are the Muggles going to come up with next? That they can live on the moon?"

Harry told him, "I don't know about living, but they've already gone to the moon before and I think there have been some people who've actually lived in the space between the moon and the Earth."

Had Regulus been any less controlled, Harry was sure he'd have caught the young man spluttering. Harry grinned. He night not like the Dursleys, and maybe even the people at Privet Drive, or maybe even those in Surrey, but that didn't mean he disliked Muggles in general. It felt good to crush Regulus' misconceptions in the most devastating way. He stopped then. Since when had he been so interested in crushing people's opinions? He pushed the thought away. They had become distracted from the real question.

He asked again, "So why do the Black Heirs have to find the house on their own?"

Regulus looked glad of the topic change as he enumerated, "We are firmly of the belief that blood isn't enough. Upbringing is also important. Hence, all Black Heirs are brought up knowing their future positions and trained for it. But it sometimes happens that the current line dies without any male progeny capable of inheriting, in which case some cousin might become Lord Black. That is what has happened in your case, I believe, and it certainly wouldn't have happened unless you were also the Potter heir."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

Regulus glared at him for the interruption but explained, "Because there hasn't been Black who married into your family for many generation. My mother's family are much closer. Someone from there would have inherited except the ones with the Black Blood are probably under some other House's control. The Heir of House Black cannot be under the power of any other house than the Black one."

"So it's not just that I have Black Blood since that's far off, but because my parents are dead?" Harry asked incredulously.

Regulus gave a stiff nod before saying, "I daresay you are also my brother's heir, which must have made things easier. Now, if you are done with your incessant chattering, may I continue explaining the most important question now?"

Harry nodded while looking down, abashed. He had known that Regulus would get tired of answering questions and yet he'd pushed his luck and now Regulus would probably not answer anything else.

Regulus sighed and sad softly, "Harry, look at me."

Harry lifted his eyes to look at something other than the man's painted legs but they only got to his chest before stopping. Regulus said softly and a little tiredly, "It has been twelve years since I've conversed with someone. There were other portraits, but I didn't want to take any risks. Even before then, I really spoke to only Purebloods and those Half-bloods who proved worthy. That means we've all been bought up with a specific set of values.

One of them has always been listening more and speaking less. Even then, it is impolite to interrupt when someone else is talking, especially if they are answering something you asked in the first place. Even then, if you must interrupt, you do it when they are taking a breath, not while they are still speaking. Not only are you a Half-blood brought up in the Muggle world, you also know almost nothing of manners and daily mannerisms. If that isn't bad enough, you're famous by all accounts and need to get allies in the pureblood sect to survive the threat of the Death Eaters and as it is now, you'll probably offend your classmates and their families just by talking with them.

It's just a little frustrating knowing that my brother is missing, you are the Heir and my mother has done her best to empty all the Black Vaults. To answer your original question completely. it is a test. If you can find any one of the Black Houses, it means you have been brought up properly. It doesn't matter if it's because you were brought up in one or visited it before. They are both signs of good breeding. If the wards accept you, it means you are worthy of carrying the name of Black and will do your best to raise the name to heights it hasn't reached before. Of course, all the point is subjective and what the heights are depends upon you.

For my mother, it was aligning with the Dark Lord, and for my brother, it was turning us into a light family. Since you are simply the Heir and I cannot think of anyone else who would have kept you as such except my brother, he is bound to be the Head of our House. So you see, it doesn't matter what the current Mistress thinks, or even the current Head, as long as you do what you think is the best, you ought to be able to pass."

"But I don't even know where the houses are, except there is one in London. I don't even know how many there are." Harry said in a downtrodden voice.

Regulus said encouragingly, "Quirrell isn't a Muggle name. It is entirely possible that he has been to one of our houses. I know that McGonagall hasn't as they have been Light for a very long time and no one would have invited her to a Dark family gathering."

"Is that why you told me not to send the letter to Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked, eager to know the reason.

Regulus smirked and said, "Also, if the Quirrell who is your Professor is the same one I am thinking of, then he was a Ravenclaw in school and would be willing to let you get a lot of things if you say they are for assuaging your curiosity. Ravenclaws are notorious for wanting to know more and he'd be willing to overlook a few things that McGonagall simply wouldn't be. She's too entrenched in notions of good or bad."

As Regulus paused to take a breath though Harry didn't understand how that worked in a painting, Harry lifted his hand and said, "Wait! First of all, what does assua-something mean. Second, just what do you want me to buy that's so bad. And third, of course there's good or bad!"

Regulus smirked again as he said, "Assuage means to fulfill, though there a few other meanings too, but it's the one I meant. What I want you to do isn't bad in itself. Just get a few books, a few protective amulets, some proper clothing. And as to good or bad, I meant that what's good for you might not be good for her, and what feels good to her, might just be bad for you. After all, didn't you say that she refused to let you get any protective gear, even though there have been assassination attempts on your life that she knows about?"

Harry nodded slowly. He got the feeling that there was something wrong in the reasoning but he couldn't figure it out. If it was something really important though, he was sure that he'd find out. Instead of that, he could start working on Regulus' opinions on Muggles instead right now as he was looking so resigned. He'd probably at least think about what he said instead of simply ignoring it outright. That was the best he could hope for, Harry thought. He still remembered Professor McGonagall saying that the Dark Lord had been against Muggles and Muggleborn. If Regulus was by someone who wanted to follow him, it would probably take some time before he stopped thinking such things.

He changed the subject and asked, "You never answered me, can you drive someone mad just by looking them in the eye?"

Regulus answered wryly, "I can't but I know a few people who can. That's in the list of things that you'll be getting. Books on Occlumency and Legilimency. Both happen to be slightly illegal but that doesn't change that your very Headmaster can drive you mad just by looking you in the eye, and if not that, at least find out what you're thinking and everything you have ever thought without even having to look at you. Occlumency is the defense against that but unfortunately, just learning it might not be enough. Sometimes, it happens that someone is more skilled in one area than the other and trying to learn the other half of the field proves to be completely useless."

Harry asked him slowly, a frown on his face, "And why exactly are these things illegal?"

Regulus smirked at him at him again as he seemed almost incapable of simply smiling and said, "Because it is the way the Ministry and those in power maintain their hold on the world. Who is going to fight against you when you can simply pluck all their thoughts out of their head?"

Harry gulped before saying, "I won't be doing that."

Regulus made a shrug like motion as he answered, "Then I hope that you don't get tortured, obliviated, mentally intruded upon and who knows what else before you die a highly painful death. And survive a wealth of humiliations too of course, reporters always know at least a bit of it. How else are they to get the juicy gossip?"

Harry knew he was being manipulated but that didn't change that he knew he would be getting those books as long as he didn't get in trouble about it and moreover, learning all he could out of them. He didn't know what obliviated meant, but it sounded a lot like the spell that McGonagall had cast on the Muggle receptionist that day. He had no wish to lose his memories. At the end of the day, they were all he had really had till now. He wasn't about to lose them due to a petty matter of legality.

A/N: Now, I'd like to mention that whatever happens in this chapter may not be the whole truth, or anything more than a belief. Regulus died, by all signs, in his late teens. he might have been very good at many things since he was raised as the Heir since Sirius did a bunk, but that does not mean that he knows everything, or even what he knows is right.

As for the clotting theory, I got that from Megii of Mysteri OusStranger - Boy Who Lived but the reasons for that are to be different.

Thank you Krysania, Anaelyssa , delenda est c , geetac, MaiWishes, , randver, aspygirlredo, sheetamoon and especially sunsethill for reviewing on every chapter.

Do review and if you find something I've missed, tell me.