Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

In July 1972, Sirius Black finished his first year at Hogwarts and returned to 12 Grimmauld Place.

He has changed a lot.

He not only grew his hair long, but also wore Muggle jeans and a T-shirt that he had learned from James Potter, making him look nothing like a pure-blood wizard.

"James said Quidditch should allow some harmless prank spells to make it more fun," he remarked casually at dinner.

Walbuga put down his knife and fork. "James? That Potter kid? I remember their bloodline is fairly pure, but their taste..."

"Good taste," Sirius interrupted. "At least their family speaks human language, instead of constantly spouting about honor, bloodline, and responsibility."

The air at the dining table suddenly froze.

Regulus quietly cut the grilled fish on his plate while observing Sirius.

There was something bright in Sirius's eyes, a light that had never appeared in Grimmauld Place before—perhaps it was freedom.

He knew that Sirius was about to leave this home.

"And Remus," Sirius continued, seemingly oblivious to his mother's expression, "he's a living library, knowing every detail of magical history the teachers never covered. Peter's a bit timid, but he's a very nice guy..."

"Enough!" Walbugar's voice was icy. "I don't want to hear about your friends' trivialities. And what about your Hogwarts report card?"

"Upstairs, passed all subjects, excellent in flying, and good in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Sirius shrugged, completely unconcerned about his mother's attitude: "That's enough."

"Enough?" Walbuga stood up, enraged. "The heir to the Black family should excel in everything! Should be a prefect! Should—"

"I'm not the heir," Sirius stood up, retorting sharply to his mother. "Regulus is the heir. You chose him long ago, didn't you?"

He looked at his brother, Regulus, who met his gaze but said nothing.

"Look at him," Sirius said, pointing at Regulus, "sitting up straight, cutting fish like he's doing a potion experiment. He's ready to become the Black you want, so please, leave me alone."

He turned and left the restaurant. Walbuga tried to follow him, but Orion held her hand.

"Let him go," Orion said. "Some things, once said, can't be taken back."

He had foreseen this day years ago, and Regulus had played a significant role in it, but he never stopped it.

Regulus finished his dinner and went upstairs. At the corner of the stairs, he met Sirius, who was leaning against the wall with his hands in his jeans pockets, looking out at the dimly lit street.

"Do you think I'm being unreasonable?" Sirius didn't turn around.

"I think you're very happy." Regulus shook his head slightly.

Sirius paused for a moment, then turned to look at him.

"I was very happy at Hogwarts," Sirius admitted. "Gryffindor Tower was always noisy, always people were doing silly things, always people were laughing, unlike here—"

He looked around the dimly lit corridor: "It's like a magnificent tomb."

"There's treasure in the grave," Regulus hinted cryptically, "if you know how to find it."

All tragedies stem from a lack of power, but Sirius never sought power until his death.

"I don't want treasure in a grave," Sirius shook his head. "I want life in the sunlight, even if it's short."

He looked at his brother: "You know what's the funniest thing? James' parents, the Potters, were purebloods, but they didn't talk about their bloodline all the time."

Their concern was whether Jaime was happy, whether he had made friends, and whether he was learning things that interested him, not whether he could uphold the family's honor.

Regulus remained silent. He knew it was true; although the Potters were pure-blooded, they had always appeared open-minded and normal in the original stories.

"So you have a home now," Regulus said with a touch of emotion.

Sirius's expression softened: "Yes, I have a home now."

Then he put on a stern face: "But you wouldn't understand, you've already chosen this place."

He walked back to his room and gently closed the door.

Regulus stood in the corridor, listening to the faint sounds of Volbuga complaining about Orion coming from downstairs.

I understand, but I wouldn't choose that path. Your home is Gryffindor, the Potter family, but how long can that protect you? And can you protect your home?

When Voldemort truly rises to power, when war begins, and when your Muggle-born friends become targets, you will naturally choose to fight back.

Unfortunately, you have no power; you can't protect anything.

He shook his head, stopped thinking about it, and turned back to his room.

At the end of July, Orion set up a simple dueling arena in the backyard to test Regulus's combat abilities.

"Hogwarts is more than just a school," he said. "There's competition, conflict, and underhanded rivalry there, and you need to know how to protect yourself."

"Rules: Use only non-harmful spells. Begin."

Orion did not hold back just because his opponent was an eleven-year-old. He raised his wand and cast the first Silent Disarming Charm swiftly and accurately, aiming it straight at Regulus's wrist.

Regulus did not dodge, nor did he use his wand; he simply raised his left hand and opened his palm.

The red spell struck an invisible barrier half a meter away from him, scattering silver sparks.

Silent, Staffless, Iron Armor Spell.

Orion raised an eyebrow and continued his attack, obstructing everything in his path, freezing it in place, and petrifying it all. Spells flew in from different angles, their frequency gradually increasing.

Regulus remained motionless, standing in place with his hands hanging naturally at his sides. He would only occasionally adjust the angle of his fingers, and each spell was precisely intercepted just before it hit. Some were deflected, some dissipated, and some were absorbed.

He didn't even use an Iron Armor Spell to cover his entire body, as that would be too taxing and make him vulnerable to sustained attacks.

He simply cast multiple miniature armor spells in succession, instantly generating them at the required locations, and then disappearing instantly after completing their mission.

Thirty seconds later, Orion stopped.

"You're directly manipulating magic with your consciousness, eliminating the need for casting spells." His voice was full of surprise.

His usually unchanging, calm tone began to falter; such skill was rare even among elite Aurors.

His second son, at only eleven years old, was already quite adept at it.

"Yes," Regulus nodded in agreement. "It doesn't require spells or gestures as intermediaries, resulting in a faster response and less energy consumption."

"Who taught you that?"

"I figured it out myself," Regulus said. It was actually a byproduct of the magic-guided cycle.

Orion remained silent for a long time, looking at his son with a complex expression—surprise, pride, and a hint of worry.

He finally said, "You are excellent, Regulus, exceeding my expectations."

"Thank you." Regulus bowed slightly.

Orion approached and patted him on the shoulder: "You will achieve great things, but at Hogwarts, you only need to be a good student, not something extraordinary, understand?"

"Understood." Regulus nodded. "I will control the extent of the demonstration."

After the inspection, Orion took him to the deepest part of the family vault, to the more secluded inheritance chamber, which contained only a few black wooden shelves.

Orion took out three items.

The first item is a family ring, made of silver, with the Black family crest engraved on the ring face, but it is not the patriarch's original; it is a replica.

"It doesn't grant you the authority of the family head," Orion handed it to Regulus, "but it can sense the family's protective magic. If you wear it and another member of the Black family is in critical condition, the ring will heat up; the higher the temperature, the greater the danger."

Regulus took the ring and knew its meaning.

Although it has no authority, it is a symbol of the head of the household, and also represents obligations and responsibilities, and this obligation is Sirius.

The second item is a magical notebook with a cover made of some kind of black leather that feels warm to the touch. It has no lock and can only be opened by someone of Black blood.

"Made with ancestral blood and secret methods," Orion said. "The written words are automatically encrypted and can only be fully deciphered by the writer. Others will only see jumbled symbols. If forcibly deciphered, the content will self-destruct."

This was tacit approval; Orion knew Regulus would definitely research some dangerous things, but he didn't stop him, only providing safe recording tools.

The third item is a meteorite amulet, a simple silver ornament with a small dark gray stone inlaid in the center, and the surface has the texture of a fusion crust.

"This was brought back from Northern Europe by the ancestors of the Black family. It is said to have come from outer space. It has been hundreds of years, and no one has figured out what magical properties it has. It just never gets dusty and always maintains this temperature."

Regulus took the amulet; the stone felt smooth and slightly warm to the touch, as if it were alive.

“I think it suits you,” Orion said, “because the direction your eyes are looking is different from ours.”

Finally, his father put his hand on his shoulder: "Hogwarts is a small world, but you must remember that there are worlds beyond worlds."