Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

The outcome of Potions class was a foregone conclusion.

When Professor Slughorn announced that time was up and asked all the students to bottle and submit their potions, Regulus's finished product stood out awkwardly on the podium.

The liquids in the other bottles were either the wrong color, cloudy with impurities, or even bubbling suspiciously.

Only Regulus's potion, a clear, light green liquid, gleamed healthily in its glass bottle, showing no sediment when left to stand.

Slughorn picked up the bottle of potion and stared at it in the light for a long time, his fat face beaming with undisguised joy.

"Exemplary!" he announced loudly, his voice echoing through the underground classroom. "Mr. Black, this potion has reached an excellent standard. Tell me, what special method did you use?"

"Just treat it strictly according to the properties of the material, Professor," Regulus replied calmly.

"The snake tooth powder needs to be fully dissolved, the magic is most concentrated at the tip of the porcupine quill, and the neutralizing effect of the sap grass requires precise timing control."

Slughorn's eyes lit up: "You mentioned the highest concentration of magic; is that something you observed yourself?"

"Yes, Professor, by sensing the faint magic emanating from the material."

This caused a murmur among the whispers. (Perceiving the magic of materials?)

Is this a skill that first graders should master?

Slughorn gave Regulus an appreciative look, then nodded without pressing further. "Come to my office after class, Mr. Black."

After class, Regulus spent ten minutes in Slughorn's office.

The fat professor enthusiastically introduced his collection of rare materials, hinted at the existence of the Slug Club, and gifted him a small bottle of Felix Felicis as encouragement.

Even though it's a diluted version, it's still an amazing gift for a first-grader.

"Keep this talent, child." Slughorn patted him on the shoulder as he saw him off. "Potions Mastery requires more than just skillful hands; it requires keen perception, and you have that talent."

Regulus nodded his thanks and put the bottle of diluted Felix Felicis into the inner pocket of his robe as he left the office. This stuff could be life-saving if used properly, but troublesome if used improperly.

The Metamorphosis class was held in a bright classroom on the second floor, with wide windows, plenty of sunlight, and a faint smell of wood and parchment in the air.

Professor McGonagall was already waiting in front of the podium. She was wearing a dark green robe, her hair was neatly tied up in a bun at the back of her head, and her expression was serious.

"Transfiguration," she began after all the students were seated, "is the most complex, most dangerous, and also the most elegant subject in magic."

It requires precise incantations, clear intentions, and an understanding of matter.

She raised her wand and tapped it gently, turning a matchstick on the podium into a silver needle.

"Today, we'll start with the basics, turning a match into a needle."

Matches were distributed, and the students began to try it out.

Soon, various indistinct incantations and the sound of wands being waved filled the classroom. Most of the students' matches simply twisted and deformed, turning into strange objects that were somewhere between matches and needles.

Regulus picked up the matches on the table and examined them closely.

This matchstick is a stable material structure, with the arrangement of wood fibers, the composition of sulfur, and its overall shape and density.

Transfiguration can alter this complete structure.

The wood fibers are rearranged into a metallic crystal structure, and sulfur is transformed into silver needle tips, while maintaining the continuity and integrity of the object.

He raised his wand and whispered the spell: "Vera Verto."

The tip of the wand just touched it lightly.

The match trembled on the table, then began a gradual transformation.

The wood changes from brown to silvery-white, the grain disappears, and the surface becomes smooth.

The sulfur head shrinks and reshapes, becoming a sharp needle tip.

The whole process lasted three seconds. When it ended, a perfect silver needle lay on the table, with a clear eye and a straight shaft.

Professor McGonagall happened to be patrolling around his desk.

She stopped, looked down at the needle, then picked it up and examined it against the light.

"A perfect transformation," there was a hint of surprise in her voice, "one-step transformation, no repeated attempts, no residue... Mr. Black, have you practiced this spell before?"

"I've practiced the principles, Professor," Regulus replied, "but today is the first time I'm using it to turn a match into a needle."

"principle?"

"Regarding the stability and conversion efficiency of matter structure," Regulus seized the opportunity to ask, "I've been thinking about a question, Professor, may I ask you?"

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow slightly: "Speak."

"The purpose of transfiguration is to change objects," Regulus said, picking up the silver needle. "From a match to a needle, but in the process, what exactly are we changing?"

Is it an essential attribute of an object, or merely its outward appearance?

If it's the former, then has the match truly turned into a needle? If it's the latter, then what distinguishes it from an illusion?

The classroom quieted down, and the few students who were still struggling with their matches looked up.

Professor McGonagall's expression became more focused. She stared at Regulus for a few seconds, then slowly said, "This is a question that only an older student would consider, Mr. Black."

"But I'd love to know the answer, Professor."

Professor McGonagall put down the silver needles, walked to the front of the class, and faced the whole class.

"Mr. Black raised a profound question: the essential difference between transfiguration and illusion lies in the continuity of matter."

Illusions are fabricated illusions created out of thin air, lacking any material basis, while transfiguration guides existing matter to recombine along a magically predetermined path.

She picked up another match, tapped it with her wand, and it turned into a feather.

"This feather," she held it up, "was once a match. Its material basis hasn't disappeared; it's just been rearranged. That's why true transfiguration requires understanding the nature of matter."

You need to understand how wood transforms into the structure of feathers; you need to guide this transformation process, not just change its appearance.

She looked at Regulus: "Are you satisfied with this answer?"

"Partially satisfied, Professor." Regulus leaned forward slightly in his seat. "But this raises another question: if metamorphosis is merely the reorganization of matter, then what about the Vanishing Charm?"

The Vanishing Charm makes an object completely disappear; where does its matter go? Or is the Vanishing Charm an extreme form of transformation, turning an object into nothingness?

Even Professor McGonagall fell silent this time.

The classroom was completely silent. Everyone was looking at the professor, unsure of the significance of the question; they were simply waiting for her answer.

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath: "The Vanishing Charm is NEWT level course content, involving the transformation of matter and energy and the theory of interdimensional magic."

"Focus on the exercise at hand, Mr. Black. Perfect match-to-needle turn, very good. Slytherin, five points for that."

She walked back to the podium and continued to instruct the other students.

For the rest of the class, Regulus could feel Professor McGonagall's gaze falling on him from time to time.

Regulus remained silent for the second half of the conversation. He knew the answer to the question, but he could tell that Professor McGonagall's attitude towards him was different from Slughorn's.

The choice of faction.

As soon as Regulus stepped out of the classroom after the Transformation lesson, he was stopped by someone.

Narcissa Black stood at the corner of the corridor, her long golden hair almost glowing in the sunlight.

In seventh grade, she already possessed a mature elegance; her dark green school uniform was impeccably ironed, and the silver Slytherin badge on her collar was polished to a gleaming shine.

"Regulus".

"My cousin Narcissa."

Let's talk in private.

She turned and walked toward a secluded side corridor, which Regulus followed. It was far from the main corridor, with only a few tall windows letting in light.

Narcissa stopped and turned to face him.

"I've heard about what happened in the lounge last night," she said bluntly. "You embarrassed the Travers kid in public."

"He brought it on himself."

“I know,” Narcissa said, with a hint of agreement in her voice. “Alger Travers is a fool. His father got his position in the Ministry of Magic through marriage, not through real ability, but that’s not the point.”

She stepped forward, lowering her voice: "The problem is, you've shown too much, Regulus."

"On the very first day, on the very first night, in front of the entire Slytherin, do you know what that means?"

Regulus looked at her calmly: "That means I'm not someone to be trifled with."

"That means you've come into some people's sights," Narcissa corrected, "much earlier than you expected."

She looked around to make sure no one was there, and continued, "At breakfast, you met Rabastan Lestrange, right? Rodolph's brother."

He asked you many questions: what kind of training you received at home, how strong your magical talent was, and your opinions on certain things.

"What things?"

“You know which ones,” Narcissa stared at him. “That lord is keeping an eye on talented young wizards, especially those from pure-blood families.”

Your brother's betrayal lowered the Black family's standing in that lord's eyes, but now you've appeared—a younger, more talented Black who seems to meet expectations more.