Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

When Regulus saw Dumbledore standing there, his first reaction was that it was expected.

He wasn't even that surprised.

Hermes' injury, Darren's actions, the curse behind the stone gate—when you put all these things together, it makes perfect sense that Dumbledore would end up here.

A thought even flashed through his mind: could all of this have been arranged?

Was Hermes' injury also part of the plan, just to see if he would follow suit?

But the thought was quickly suppressed because it was pointless.

Even if it were true, what could he do?

Should we question the principal? Or pretend we don't know?

Neither will work, so let's just do what needs to be done.

Tonight's energy expenditure is far beyond what is expected.

The number of spells cast was actually not many. The Ironclad Spell lasted from beginning to end, and the Starry Sky Kite appeared last. No complicated magic was used in between.

However, the energy expenditure is much greater than during regular training, mainly due to the sheer volume of energy consumed.

One face after another crashed into us, and with each impact, the Ironclad Curse had to expend magic to counteract the force.

There is also the erosion of the spirit; the despair and pain brought by each face pollute the barrier, trying to penetrate his mind through magic.

He needs to continuously inject pure magic to purify, replenish, and maintain.

This is much more tiring than the duel with Orion. A duel is a clash of strength, where the expenditure is visible and calculable.

Tonight, however, the loss is like a slow, steady drain, as if countless tiny cuts are simultaneously drawing blood from him.

Even when Star Orbit Meditation is pushed to its limit, it barely keeps up with the depletion of magical energy. Mentally, one must also do everything possible to maintain a mental barrier, otherwise, any relaxation could allow negative magical energy to take advantage of the situation.

But he didn't remove the protection; the Ironclad Curse was still there, and the Starry Sky Kite was still perched on his shoulder.

The guardian's silvery-white light illuminated the surrounding area, and the gray mist retreated outside the light, not daring to approach.

Dumbledore blinked, a gentle smile playing on his lips, his white beard trembling slightly with each breath.

He raised his right hand, his index finger pointing upwards, and a ball of light shone from the tip of his finger.

The light was gentle and not glaring, like the first ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds in the early morning.

The light spread out.

Like water spreading across the ground, naturally unfolding.

Where the white light touched, the gray mist dissipated, and human faces melted away without a sound or struggle, as if they had never existed.

After the white light reached the stone gate, it returned like an echo, coalescing back into Dumbledore's fingertip and finally transforming into a small, glowing ball the size of a pigeon's egg, its light still warm and carrying a comforting power.

Regulus could clearly feel his tense mind relax instantly, and the fatigue he had accumulated earlier dissipated as if washed away by warm water.

He removed the Iron Armor Spell, and the pale blue star-patterned barrier silently dissipated.

The starry kite tilted its head back and let out a low cry, affectionately nuzzling his cheek with its beak. The warm touch lingered for a moment before turning into silvery-white specks of light and dissipating into the air.

"What a beautiful bird." Dumbledore looked in the direction where the Starry Night Kite had disappeared, his eyes full of admiration.

"The Starry Sky Kite, a legendary creature that feeds on starlight and can pass through space, I never imagined it would become your guardian."

"Thank you for your praise, Headmaster." Regulus nodded, offering a slightly respectful compliment.

"Your phoenix is ​​equally magical, capable of rebirth and healing wounds, making it the most admired guardian deity in the magical world."

Dumbledore knew about the Starry Sky Kite, and Regulus was no surprise to him either.

Orion told him to hide, but he had no chance to hide, nor the strength to do so.

Besides, this is Dumbledore, so what if he sees it?

Dumbledore's eyes lit up, and he looked pleased with himself. He stroked his beard and said, "It's a wonderful thing to have a little wizard's approval."

Phoenix is ​​really great, but it's also quite mischievous and occasionally makes a mess of my office.

He put away the ball of light, and when he took his hand out again, he was holding a pocket watch. The watch cover popped open, and he took a closer look.

"Twelve minutes to three," Dumbledore said, "so strictly speaking, you should say good morning."

Regulus didn't respond to that; instead, he looked up and stared directly at Dumbledore: "Has the Headmaster been here all night?"

"I've always been here." Dumbledore nodded, his tone frank, his blue eyes filled with admiration: "From the moment you entered the Astronomy Tower, I watched you walk through the passageways and face the gray fog."

I was genuinely surprised when you chose to stay behind and cover the retreat. It's rare for a first-year student to remain calm in such a situation and be willing to take risks for their comrades.

"Anyone with the ability would have done the same," Regulus replied modestly, without a hint of self-praise in his tone.

"Avery and Alex don't have the skills to handle this kind of crisis, and I can't leave them behind."

"That choice wasn't easy," Dumbledore said. "To think of taking your classmates with you in a crisis, to volunteer to stay behind and cover the retreat, is a very good quality."

Many people know they should do this, but when it comes down to it, they choose something else.

With great power comes great responsibility. Do you like that?

Dumbledore looked at him, and something flickered in the old man's eyes. He raised his hand and gently wiped the corner of his eye with his sleeve.

He raised his hand and gently patted Regulus's shoulder, his palm warm and firm: "You are more mature than I imagined, Mr. Black, and braver too."

He added, "And even better."

Regulus lowered his head modestly, as if embarrassed by the praise.

But he kept repeating these words in his mind: quality, maturity, courage, excellence.

Moral identity?

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the two, and neither of them pressed the other for answers.

Regulus didn't ask Dumbledore why he was hiding in the shadows until the very last moment.

Dumbledore didn't ask him why he discovered the passage under the Astronomy Tower, or why he didn't inform the professor beforehand.

This made the atmosphere of the conversation exceptionally harmonious. Dumbledore always had a gentle smile on his face, and his appreciation in his eyes was undisguised, as if he was genuinely happy for Regulus's performance.

The key point is that Regulus did not sense any signal that his mental barrier had been breached.

Perhaps he did, but he didn't realize it.

That's Dumbledore! Regulus didn't believe that if Dumbledore really wanted to, he wouldn't be able to break through his Occlumency.

Maybe not, after all, he's just a first-year wizard.

At times, Dumbledore can be quite stubborn; he is constantly restraining himself.

Dumbledore looked to be in a good mood; the wrinkles around his eyes had smoothed out, and the upturned curve of his mustache was more pronounced.

"What is that wand?" Regulus asked the question that concerned him most.

His gaze fell on Dumbledore's empty left hand; the strange wand had already been put away by the headmaster.

"It's called the Plague Wand," Dumbledore answered directly.

They didn't brush Regulus off just because he was young or for any other reason; instead, they gave him a serious introduction.

But Regulus knew that Dumbledore was sharing a secret and demonstrating trust.

Regulus listened quietly.

Dumbledore's tone turned serious, his smile fading and replaced by a more solemn one.

In the mid-16th century, there was a black sorcerer in Italy named Valentino Solito who was obsessed with the materialization of the magic of pain.

He targeted the Black Death that was spreading across Europe at the time, intercepting dead moths carrying the pathogen.

"A withered bone moth?" Regulus asked at the opportune moment.

He remembered the records of this magical creature, but he never expected it to be related to this magic wand.

"That's right, a creature that can spread magical plagues." Dumbledore nodded and continued.

"Valentino used dark magic to distort and modify pathogens, developing the Plague Curse."

This curse is not immediately fatal, but it can be spread through the skeleton moth. Those infected will first experience skin ulceration and severe joint pain.

Then the senses are consumed by pain, consciousness is gradually eroded by despair, and finally, death comes after weeks of torment.

"Those faces, are they formed from the pain of the dead?" Regulus pressed.

"That's right." A hint of reluctance flashed in Dumbledore's eyes.

"Valentino used this method to kill all 70,000 residents of Bolzano and the surrounding villages in northern Italy."

He used dark magic to condense the extreme pain and despair of all the dead, forging this wand of vengeance.

Regulus's fingertips gently He quickly processed the information in his mind: "The staff is made of black walnut wood, and the core should be a mixture of Valentino's finger bones and powdered wing fragments from a withered moth?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise, then smiled: "You've observed very carefully; this wand is indeed like that."

Back then, Professor Marcus Valerius, along with three other professors, besieged Valentino and seized the wand, only to find it indestructible.

The magic of pain had become one with the wand; forcibly destroying it would cause the magic to leak out, triggering a secondary disaster. Therefore, it was hidden in Hogwarts and sealed with multiple ancient protective spells.

Regulus's heart skipped a beat as Dumbledore explained why he had finally taken the wand.

But can't I even destroy this physical wand?

The thought flashed through his mind, and he continued to ask, "Principal, what was that white light just now?"

Those faces I struggled so hard to defend against were utterly powerless against the white light.

Dumbledore laughed again at this, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling together with a hint of slyness: "That was just a beam of light, but it carried a touch of brightness."

Regulus nodded; he understood—it meant elemental weaknesses.