Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

"Glory?" Sirius suddenly stood up, his chair sliding backward as he did so.

"Look closely at what that is! Black smoke is seeping out of that box! Bella, you're already driven mad by Voldemort, and now you want to drag Regulus down with you?"

Bella abruptly turned her head towards him, her tone icy cold: "Shut up, traitors have no right to speak here, and you dare to comment on that person's gift?"

Regulus had no doubt that if they weren't at the Black's house, Bella would have attacked Sirius directly with the most vicious curse.

Sirius's face flushed red instantly, and he clenched his fists.

"I'm trash? Then what are you? Voldemort's mad dog? The one that chases after people and licks their heels—"

"That's enough." Orion's voice wasn't loud, but it silenced everyone.

Orion braced himself on the edge of the table, stood up, and his gaze first swept over Sirius, then fell on Bella's face, and finally settled on Regulus.

Regulus didn't look up, his face was expressionless, and he didn't look at him.

He already knew what was going on.

"The gift," Orion said calmly, without any emotional fluctuation, "is accepted by Regulus."

Walbuga breathed a sigh of relief and a smile appeared on his face.

Sirius opened his mouth as if to say something, but a glance from Orion made him grit his teeth and swallow his words, his chest heaving violently.

Bella turned back to Regulus, her face regaining that eerie, eager smile.

"That's more like it." She pushed the bone box forward again. "Take it and let that gentleman see that the heir of the Black family is worthy of this gift."

Regulus looked at the bone box in front of him.

All eyes in the restaurant were on him.

Walbuga's expectations, Bella's coercion, Sirius's anger, and Orion's silence.

He quickly went through the options in his mind.

Refusing was definitely out of the question; the Black family did not refuse Voldemort's power.

Bella is dangerous and insane, but Regulus doesn't care; killing Bella wouldn't be difficult.

But Bella came representing Voldemort, and her presence here represents Voldemort's attitude.

It cannot be refused.

Acceptance is the only viable path, but how to accept it requires careful consideration.

What did Voldemort want to see?

A Black family heir who is drawn to dark forces, becomes addicted to them, and gradually falls into depravity?

Or is he a pure-blooded genius who can easily control the darkness?

neither.

He needs a middle ground: to be shocked, attracted, and struggle against temptation before finally achieving initial success.

A young wizard with immense potential, but still under control.

Regulus raised his hand and touched the edge of the bone box, feeling a chill from a collective of negative energy on his fingertips.

The runes lit up the moment they made contact, turning from dark gold to dark purple. However, the light did not radiate outwards; instead, it converged inwards and was absorbed.

He grasped the bone box.

Then all sound disappeared; it was a stripping away of perception.

The way Walbuga opened his mouth to speak, Bella's widening smile, Orion's suddenly contracting pupils, and Sirius's forward lunge.

All of this becomes a slow-motion pantomime, the colors fade, leaving only black, white, and gray outlines.

The things inside the bone box came to life.

It burrows into the skin along the point of contact, but it has no physical form, nor is it magic; it's more like a living concept.

Darkness, pain, temptation, madness—these abstract words now take on concrete form.

Thick ink seeped into my veins, countless voices whispered in my ears, and fragmented illusions exploded before my eyes.

Regulus saw a ruin.

It was a cluster of buildings with an exotic style, a city, burning under a blood-red sky, completely unfamiliar, and of an unknown era.

The air was filled with a strong smell of sulfur and the putrid odor of a large number of dead bodies, but it didn't smell bad; instead, it had a strange fragrance.

He saw a figure standing in the middle of the ruins, with his back to him, his black robe billowing in the heat.

The figure raised a hand casually, but all the surrounding buildings collapsed silently, the bricks turning into black powder before they even hit the ground.

The collapse spread until the entire city vanished, until the very edge of illusion.

As far as the eye could see, all that remained was a layer of black ash.

power.

Pure, primal, unrestrained power.

The mere act of displaying its existence is a temptation.

You can do this, you can have these things, you can become a wizard who looks down on all living beings.

The whispers became clearer:

"Pain is fuel..."

"Fear is the best catalyst..."

"Love? Compassion? Those are weaknesses, chains, obstacles to truth..."

"Tear them apart, tear apart all constraints, and you will see the real world..."

The illusion began to change, becoming more personalized, like a bespoke creation.

Regulus saw himself in the corridors of Hogwarts, surrounded by students who looked at him with awe or fear, simply because of his presence.

He saw himself standing on a high place, with a crowd of people crawling below him, including wizards, Muggles, and faces he knew and didn't recognize.

He raised his hand, and the crowd began to cheer, their voices rising like waves.

that power.

Another form of temptation, more hidden, and more in line with the true desires of a pure-blooded family heir.

that power.

Another form of temptation, more hidden, and more in line with the true desires of a pure-blooded family heir.

But in my heart I didn't think so. Was he using this to test me?

Would anyone succumb to such temptation?

Regulus's core consciousness hovered steadily in the center of the spiritual world.

As the Star Trail Meditation operates at full power, the fourth and a half stars of Orion shine with a blazing, steady light against the dark background.

Each star is an anchor point, firmly fixing his core consciousness, free from external illusions and whispers.

The brain closure procedure was initiated simultaneously.

He constructed a complex labyrinthine passageway around his mind, actively guiding the dark magic and illusions into the predetermined loop.

Then, in an isolated area of ​​the labyrinth, he used a portion of his mind to simulate a Regulus.

This person possesses the qualities he should have.

A thirst for power, an acceptance of the pure-blood ideology, and awe of Voldemort.

The simulated personality saw ruins and a figure in black robes.

It heard whispers.

It felt the temptation.

Outside, in the restaurant, Regulus's body began to react.

His hand holding the bone box trembled slightly, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, sliding down his temples and gathering at his chin.

His breathing became rapid, and his chest heaved noticeably.

The eyes are the hardest part to fake.

Regulus controlled slight twitches in the orbicularis oculi muscle, causing the pupil to intermittently defocus and then refocus, simulating the physiological response when one suffers a mental shock.

His lips tightened, then unconsciously opened, uttering a few broken syllables.

Some ancient, distorted fragment of language, a piece of knowledge deliberately leaked by dark enlightenment.

"A...k'tath..." The voice was like a murmur, but the restaurant was so quiet that every word was clearly audible.

Bella's eyes lit up.

She leaned forward dramatically, her face showing excitement and greed.

Wolbuga covered his mouth, his fingers trembling, whether from worry or excitement, it was hard to tell.

Sirius had already rushed to this side of the long table, but Orion raised his hand to stop him.

The father's hand pressed down on his son's shoulder with great force, making Sirius unable to move.

Orion stared at Regulus's face.

He was observing the details.

As an experienced wizard who had gone through countless magical tests and real battles, he knew what a true mental shock was like.

Chaos, loss of control, physiological reactions and mental anguish occur simultaneously.

Then he realized that Regulus's performance was too perfect.

The standard shock, the standard pain, the standard struggle.

It's like a textbook demonstrating how a wizard should react when encountering highly potent black magic items.

But something is missing.

It lacks that sudden panic, the instinctive resistance when consciousness is violently invaded, and the uncontrolled leakage of magic caused by the intense conflict between external magic and the host's magic.

Regulus's magical fluctuations were indeed unstable, but that instability seemed to be designed, first darkening, then intensifying, then calming down, and then entering the next cycle.

This isn't right; the rhythm is too predictable.

Orion's fingers tightened on Sirius's shoulder.

Sirius sensed it and turned to look at his father, but Orion didn't give him a look, only staring at Regulus.

time flies.

Within the mental maze, the confrontation between simulated personalities enters a crucial stage.

It failed to defeat the Dark Awakening, which is impossible and does not meet Voldemort's expectations.

It is merely compromising, guiding, and taming to a limited extent.

The simulated personality uses its own dark tendencies as a bridge to connect with that external force, constructing an unstable symbiosis.

In a corner of the labyrinth, a cage was created to temporarily imprison the core of enlightenment within it.

The cage was transparent, and the dark magic within still surged, whispered, and displayed illusions, but it was confined to a fixed area and could no longer impact other parts of the simulated personality.

At the same time, the simulated personality learned something from this encounter.

How to more efficiently transform negative emotions into magical output, a simplified triggering logic of an ancient curse, and a few not-so-profound black magic techniques.

This knowledge is true.

Dark enlightenment does indeed provide this information as bait for temptation.

If you want more, you have to keep going deeper and deeper until there's no turning back.

Regulus allowed the simulated personalities to accept these ideas, but not to absorb them entirely. Instead, he stored them in an isolated area for later analysis.

External appearance is adjusted accordingly.

Regulus's trembling began to subside, his breathing gradually became steady, and his pupils refocused.

Sweat was still dripping from his forehead and neck, and his face regained some color from its paleness.

He slowly relaxed his grip on the bone box, no longer holding it so tightly.