Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Regulus wanted more than just to replicate the properties of the mandrake; he wanted to understand it and then transcend it.

He didn't just want the mandrake to decompose; he wanted to decompose itself.

In the physical world, weathering and erosion are the slow peeling of rocks by wind and rain, turning them from whole blocks into fragments, and from fragments into sand and gravel.

This is decomposition.

The collapse of the spell's structure means that the intricate magical circuits are severed by external forces, the spell becomes ineffective, and the magical creation reverts to its raw materials.

This is also a decomposition.

The disintegration of a living organism's tissues is the loss of cell function, the cessation of organ cooperation, and the transformation of what was once a whole capable of running, jumping, and thinking into a corpse.

This is still a decomposition.

The very foundation of magical creations is shaken; the magical imprints attached to objects are erased, and family treasures passed down for millennia revert to ordinary metal and wood.

This is also a decomposition.

What he needs is a universal decomposition logic that can handle all these objects.

The decomposition of mandrake alone is far from enough; it needs to decompose itself.

Regulus looked up.

The sky outside the window was completely dark, and the sea and the night sky merged into one in the distance, making it impossible to distinguish which was water and which was sky.

Only a few stars pierced through the clouds, shining brightly high above, quiet and eternal.

He thought of Betelgeuse, the red supergiant star, which is 700 million times the size of the Sun and 640 light-years away from Earth.

Light travels at 300,000 kilometers per second for 640 years before reaching his eyes.

What he saw was what that star looked like 640 years ago.

At that time, the positions of the three stars of Orion's Belt were different from what he saw now, but the change was so slow that it would be difficult for humans to notice even over hundreds of years, but the change was indeed happening.

Even stars have a lifespan.

They burn hydrogen, helium, carbon for millions, tens of millions, billions of years, until the fuel runs out.

The smaller ones expand into red giants, ejecting their outer gas into space, while their centers collapse into white dwarfs.

For massive stars, the iron core accumulates to a critical value, can no longer withstand its own gravity, collapses inward, rebounds, and explodes into a supernova.

The brightness produced during the outburst exceeded the total brightness of the entire galaxy.

During the explosion, all the heavy elements produced by fusion are ejected into space.

Those heavy elements floated in the darkness for millions of years, were captured by gravity, and condensed into new stars and new planets.

Earth's iron core originated from a supernova that exploded six billion years ago.

All the metal parts on his body were made from materials mined from the Earth's crust. Those iron atoms were generated when that supernova exploded, ejected, captured, and buried in a mineral vein on Earth billions of years later.

Even the stars will eventually come to an end.

Order becomes chaos, and chaos is then organized into a new order by gravity.

Isn't this decomposition?

Loosen the already established structure, let the solidified energy flow, and let such an existence return to a state where it can become something else.

The magic of mandrake is decomposition, using seven and a half cycles of magic to color pure life magic, causing the whole that comes into contact with it to lose its definition of wholeness.

The life cycle of a star is also a process of decomposition, where gravitational collapse severs the binding energy between atomic nuclei, causing the iron core to disintegrate within a fraction of a second, returning the matter accumulated over six billion years to the universe.

The former is the path of magic, the latter is the rule of physics.

They are 640 light-years apart, 6 billion years apart, separated by the realms of magic and science, each defined by wizards and Muggles respectively.

But the underlying logic is the same: to return order to chaos, and to allow chaos to be redefined.

The night outside the window was deep, and the sea breeze, carrying a chill, blew in from the east.

He wanted to replicate the principle of star collapse into a spell, but that might not be the domain of any wizard at all.

But he can bring that perspective in.

The decomposition of mandrake is such that the skin is no longer skin, the flesh is no longer flesh, and the bones are no longer bones.

The decomposition of stars is such that iron is no longer iron, silicon is no longer silicon, and oxygen is no longer oxygen.

The decomposition he desires is to return any entity to the state it was in before it was organized into existence.

It's not just plants that can do this.

Physics can do it, gravity can do it, time can do it.

As for whether magic can actually do it?

Regulus looked out at the sea.

The waves have been crashing against the rocks for thousands of years, day and night, without ever ceasing.

He didn't have an answer, but he really wanted to try.

Regulus kept these thoughts to himself.

That idea is too big, so big that it can be gradually realized as an ultimate vision.

There's still a lot to learn and accumulate. Being able to perfectly replicate the decomposition magic of Mandrake is already a milestone.

But at least the path of natural magic was opened up, or rather, Regulus found another way.

His development of nature magic was in a completely different direction from that of his ancestor, Eldrin.

If you want to obtain the properties of any magical plants, you simply have to go through this path again.

Understand, replicate, and transform into your own.

As for the Disintegration Spell itself, once the spell was developed, he no longer needed the spell, and he could put the wand away.

Now he can cast spells with the mere raising of his hand, silently and without a staff, requiring no prior indication of casting.

Moreover, among the many spells he possessed, this was almost the most sinister.

Regulus sat by the greenhouse window, looking at his outstretched palms.

Judging from its effects, this magic undoubtedly falls into the category of dark magic.

Its direct effect is death; it turns a living organism from a whole into fragments, from existence to non-existence.

If the Ministry of Magic's classification standards were strict enough, it could easily put the Disintegration Charm and the Killing Charm on the same page.

However, it does not require strong negative emotions to participate.

At least that's how it is for him.

When casting the spell, his mind was filled only with the magic model and the logical structure of the breakdown; there was no hatred, no murderous intent, and no dark emotions that needed to be stirred up.

Everything is readily available, like products on an assembly line. Just fill in the required parameters, and the result will naturally appear.

The Killing Curse requires genuine killing intent, a pure will to kill the other person.

The Guardian Charm requires the happiest memories and needs to be nourished by positive emotions for that silver light.

What does the Disintegration Spell require?

This needs to be understood.

We need to truly understand what it means to make the complete no longer complete, and we need to engrave that abstract concept of decomposition into our consciousness, making it as natural as breathing.

Only then can the decomposed properties be automatically added to the model when constructing the magic model.

This spell is extremely well-executed.

However, unlike spatial teleportation, which can be learned by simply explaining the key points, teaching people to chant spells and wave wands, this method is different.

There's an unavoidable hurdle to overcome with the Disintegration Spell: you must construct that magical model in your mind.

Of course, you can't just draw any magic loop.

That model was a complete replica that Regulus spent nine days, sacrificing the lives of twenty mandrakes, and going through countless failures and adjustments.

Its entrance angle, the branching position of the main trunk, the curvature of the seven and a half loops, and the width of the exit are all completely consistent with the logic inside the core of the mandrake.

If it's even one degree off, the magic will flow in but not come out.

If you miss the mark by half a circle, the magic that comes out is ordinary magic, without any attributes.

If any branch is missing, the model will collapse on its own after running.

This involves mentally replicating the core magical structure of a complex life form, requiring an abnormally high level of precision.

Moreover, replicating it is only the first step; the more difficult part is making it an instinctive reaction that can be fully activated at any time.

If you want to teach others—

Regulus thought that the first thing he needed to do was to make the other party understand the decomposition.

Let the whole cease to be whole, let the whole become countless isolated individuals, and let order return to its original state.

This understanding is difficult to convey in words.

He can give examples of mandrake and demonstrate its effects, but whether the other person understands it depends entirely on themselves.

Only by understanding this can one ensure that the abstract concept of decomposition permeates every thread of magic in the model when constructing it.

This should be considered the standard for high-level spells.

It's not just about reciting the right spell and waving the right wand; something else has to be involved.

The Killing Curse requires pure murderous intent, the Guardian Curse requires the happiest memories, and Occlumency requires isolating emotions from thought.

What the Disintegration Curse requires is an objective understanding of a certain abstract concept.

Regulus felt that this might be more difficult for most wizards.

From a young age, they were taught to associate magic with emotions.

Anger makes flames burn brighter, sorrow makes water flow backward, and joy makes guardian spirits shine brighter. It's easy for them to manipulate certain emotions to cast spells.

But whether they could calmly and objectively understand an abstract concept and transform that understanding into the core of magic, Regulus was unsure.

He had never encountered other spells similar to the Disintegration Charm and did not know if there were any precedents for it in the magical world.

Perhaps it existed in ancient magic, but the modern magic education system has long abandoned this model.

You could let your father try it.