Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

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Sirius Black stopped talking.

After that breakfast, he didn't make any more noise.

He stopped scraping the plate with a knife and fork, and stopped deliberately wearing that black T-shirt with the Muggle band logo in front of Walbug.

He no longer retorted every time she mentioned purebloods, "What's so great about purebloods?"

He simply showed up at the table on time every day, finished eating on time, and left on time.

Like a volcano that suddenly stopped erupting, only the silent mountain remains standing there.

Walbuga showed no reaction to this; in fact, she seemed pleased with it.

Regulus saw the look in her eyes when she looked at Sirius; there was only a sense of relief and acceptance in her gaze.

It's as if this is how this house is supposed to be.

Orion didn't say anything about it; he remained silent, always busy with family matters and external affairs.

Regulus knew what Sirius was thinking.

He watched as those gray eyes, which had always burned with anger, gradually cooled, turning from flames into embers, and then from embers into dead ashes.

Sirius didn't understand what had happened that day.

This isn't an intelligence issue; there's nothing wrong with his brain. The problem is that his brain isn't functioning in that direction.

Sirius saw Bella step out of the fireplace, take out the bone box, heard her talk about the gift from that man, and saw the ominous aura emanating from the bone box.

His reaction was summed up in one word: evil.

Evil things should be rejected.

But his method was to curse, to flip the table, to try and smash that damn box back in Bella's face.

He even spoke with self-righteousness.

Sirius's logic is extremely simple.

Voldemort is a bad person, and bad people's things are bad too. Why would Regulus accept things from a bad person?

If you don't accept it, just refuse. As long as you refuse, you've won.

As for what will happen after he refuses, he never thinks about it, or feels there's no need to think about it.

Regulus imagined himself asking Sirius what would have happened if he had refused.

Sirius would probably raise his chin smugly, a disdainful smile playing on his lips, and say, "So what? Bella's not going to kill you on the spot."

This is Sirius Black's way of thinking.

As long as he is in the right position and as long as what he does is just, then there should be no consequences, or rather, he should not have to bear them.

If the consequences still occur, then it is the world's problem, not his.

This kind of thinking can be called naivety at age 11, and naivety at age 12, but what about later?

Sirius is 14 years old.

But he would never think about what Bella's words, "that person's gift," meant.

What does Voldemort's personal attention to a pure-blood heir mean in the current wizarding world?

This means that the person has been marked and has come into view.

Refusing a gift is refusing Voldemort, and refusing Voldemort comes with the consequences of refusal.

Are the Black family able to afford this cost?

Voldemort's influence has infiltrated the Ministry of Magic, his followers are found throughout pure-blood families, and his power has been repeatedly proven.

Refusal comes at a price.

It could be an industry, a life, or an entire family being labeled as non-cooperative, subjecting them to endless harassment and attacks until they submit or are destroyed.

Sirius couldn't see these things.

Regulus knew he wasn't stupid; he was simple.

It's so simple it's enviable.

It's so simple it's almost despair-inducing.

Orion didn't say anything, but Regulus understood from the way his father looked at Sirius that his eldest son was no longer suitable to stay in the Black family.

Not now, but not too far off.

Orion has given up on teaching Sirius.

His son was still his son, but he gave up on making Sirius understand the survival logic of pure-blood families.

Some things, you just can't teach them. No matter how much you explain them in detail, all they'll hear is, "You're just trying to brainwash me."

When a person defines every effort to make him understand reality as control, dialogue ceases to exist.

Therefore, Orion chose to remain silent.

Regulus knew that day was not far off.

Sirius Black would run away from home at the age of 16, completely severing ties with his family, and have his name burned off the tapestry by Walbuga.

Now Regulus thought that perhaps there would be some subtle changes, because of him, the time might be brought forward.

But that's exactly what he wanted; it would be better for everyone if Sirius left the Black family.

Sirius Black had already chosen his path, and that was where he was headed.

After dinner, Regulus got up and went upstairs, opening the bedroom door.

He walked to the desk, opened the drawer, and took out the rune box.

The box was delivered by Orion that day. It was an old item that had been stored in the family's secret chamber for many years, and the inside and outside of the box were engraved with at least four layers of nested protective runes.

The bone box is inside, isolating it from all contact with the outside world.

He didn't feel angry on a rational level.

Anger requires a certain expectation.

They expect others to respect them more, they expect things not to be this way, and they expect the world to operate according to some kind of fair and just rules.

Regulus had long since given up on such expectations.

Voldemort's probing, his attempts to win over, and his attempts to corrupt were all within expectations.

He didn't consider Regulus's feelings at all when he gave him this gift.

Regulus was not angry at the gesture; he was simply confirming that Voldemort had indeed done so.

He confirmed that Voldemort was indeed as he thought, and that he and Voldemort were indeed incompatible.

This isn't a bad thing; we need to confirm it before we can respond.

But Regulus kept this in mind; he would remember it for now and settle the score later.

You treated me like this, so I have to get back at you.

He closed the drawer, got up, and walked to the window.

The nights at Grimoire Place are quiet. Most of the residents on this street are elderly, and there are no children making noise at night. Even the streetlights are dimmer than those on the neighboring streets.

Regulus closed his eyes and first checked the condition of the containment chamber.

The virtual persona is still working.

Regulus has done almost nothing else these past few days.

Eating, sleeping, a little practice, and the rest of the time I observe it.

It has been studying the Dark Enlightenment for nearly sixty hours without eating, drinking, or sleeping, and its mental exhaustion is entirely replenished by Regulus periodically.

The results are remarkable.

The fragments of dark knowledge transmitted from the filter layer were organized and summarized.

More importantly, the pollution was firmly contained within the quarantine zone.

Regulus saw the virtual persona standing in the center of the room through the observation window. Its magical fluctuations were noticeably darker than they had been a few days ago, and its edges carried the corrosive shadow unique to the bone box.

But it is unaware of these things; it only feels that it is studying something interesting.

Regulus opened his eyes; the room remained quiet.

This system will still be operational tomorrow, and it will be operational the day after tomorrow as well.

But at the current intensity, we may need to have one more session before the start of the semester, otherwise the virtual personality will run out of resources.

He glanced at the clock; it was 9:47 PM.

Going to Cornwall tomorrow.

Having been delayed by Voldemort for almost a week, it's time to get the plan back on track.

......

The mornings in Cornwall have the smell of sea salt.

Regulus Apparated to a marked clearing on the outskirts of the plantation.

The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the air was very humid. In the distance, the glass roofs of several greenhouses could be vaguely seen.

"Mr. Black."

The voice came from behind him. Regulus turned around and saw a short witch standing in front of him.

Agnes.

She was just up to Regulus's shoulder, stocky, with a deep wheat-colored tan and a few light brown sunspots on her cheekbones and bridge of her nose.

Her short, grayish-brown hair was haphazardly tucked behind her ears, with a few strands falling down and clinging to her cheeks, glistening with dew.

She wore a durable, coarse cloth long skirt, covered with an old leather apron, the surface of which was covered with large dark water stains and mud marks, as well as several small burn holes.

Her fingers were thick with prominent knuckles, and her nails were cut very short, with indelible marks of dirt and plant sap embedded in the crevices.

Regulus had seen similar hands at Hogwarts.

Professor Sprout always had this kind of dirt under his fingernails when he returned from the greenhouse.

People who frequently deal with magical plants seem to share a similar temperament.

"Ms. Agnes," Regulus nodded in greeting, "I apologize for disturbing you so early."

"Not too early, not too early, I got up at five." Agnes waved her hand casually. "They start watering the greenhouse at six, when the fog has dissipated halfway and the light is at its best."

Please come inside. The main house is on the east side. I've prepared the top-floor room for you; it faces southeast and you can see the sea in the morning.

She turned and led the way, her steps quick and barely making a sound as she walked on the dirt path.

Her apron pockets were bulging, and after a few steps, a leather glove fell out. She bent down, picked it up, and casually stuffed it back in, her movements fluid and effortless.