Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Freya stood there, letting him look her over. There was no discomfort in her eyes, and her gaze fell on him, but her gaze was hard to understand.

It's normal to be scrutinized and to have doubts.

Regulus knew he was just a twelve-year-old boy.

Freya came all the way from Germany, and considering Orion's earlier mention of the family mission, it's clear that the two families are going to work together.

There were only three people present, so it couldn't be Orion himself. That left only the little brat.

At their first meeting, anyone would doubt whether he could be of any help.

But there was something else, Regulus couldn't say for sure.

Besides scrutiny and suspicion, there seemed to be a sense in his gaze that the other person knew him.

It wasn't just the kind of knowledge she had heard of that the Black family heir; there was something more specific in her gaze, as if she had some kind of understanding of him personally.

Knowing what kind of person he is, what kind of things he does, and perhaps even what he has done recently.

That's not quite right.

Regulus was certain he had never met this woman, but if she truly knew him, it could only be through other means.

Information exchange within the family, or through other channels.

That's not surprising.

As the heir to the Black family, his name and basic information were likely already in the intelligence files of various pure-blood families in Europe.

Freya had read his file before coming and was curious about him, which makes perfect sense.

But that gaze still made him feel a little strange, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

Freya quickly composed herself.

She nodded slightly: "Nice to meet you, Mr. Blake."

His voice was deep and clear, with a distinct German accent. He pronounced the "r" sound a bit heavily, but each syllable was pronounced very accurately.

"Nice to meet you, Miss von Eisenhardt," Regulus replied.

He stood still, three or four steps away from Freya. When they stood close together, the height difference became apparent.

He is now about 1.68 meters tall, which is considered tall among his peers. The enhancement of his physical body by Star Orbit Meditation has made his physical development faster than that of ordinary wizards.

But standing in front of Freya, he was still nearly 20 centimeters shorter.

He had to look up at her, while Freya looked down at him.

Orion spoke up from the side.

"The Eisenhardt family's magical pearl farm and observation station in the North Sea have recently been harassed by an organization."

He spoke calmly and without haste: "The other party whispered from the abyss, plotting to seize an ancient maritime document kept by the Eisenhardt family."

The harassment was very professional and targeted; it wasn't ordinary piracy.

He looked at Regulus: "Freya needs a sharp-minded, unconventional assistant to help with the investigation and deterrence."

Regulus nodded and listened quietly.

"This is your first real combat mission," Orion continued, "and on the diplomatic front as well. The Eisenhardt and Black families have been on good terms for generations, and this collaboration will be a perfect learning experience for you."

Regulus understood; this was both a practical matter and a diplomatic one.

Help allies solve problems, build connections in the process, and let their families see firsthand the quality of the Black family heir.

But at the same time, a question popped into his mind: Did the Eisenhardt family really need to ask the Black family for help?

This family holds a similar position in Germany as the Black family in England; they possess a deep-rooted heritage, extensive connections, and considerable strength.

If the threat of the Whispers of the Abyss is truly so serious that they need external assistance, they could simply turn to a closer German family, or directly dispatch a powerful wizard from within the family.

There's no need to travel all the way to England to find a twelve-year-old child.

Regulus quickly analyzed the situation in his mind.

Either the matter of the Whispers of the Abyss is not as simple as Orion said, and that what appears to be harassment and theft of documents hides something else entirely.

It may involve a higher level of strategic maneuvering, or something that is inconvenient to handle on German soil.

Or, this is simply a social event.

This gives young people from both families the opportunity to meet, work together on missions, and build personal bonds in the process.

If we get along, we can deepen our relationship; if we don't, the mission is over and we go our separate ways, with no one owing anyone anything.

Without causing offense or leaving any trace, this provides young people with opportunities to hone their skills and paves the way for potential future collaborations.

Regulus looked at Freya, and Freya looked at him too.

She didn't show much expression, but Regulus could sense that her doubts about him hadn't disappeared, but he didn't care.

This kind of doubt is the easiest to dispel. When it really comes down to taking action, the other party will naturally see whether he is trustworthy or not.

Explaining anything now is useless; no matter how much you say, it will only seem like childish bravado to the other party.

It's better to keep quiet and wait for an opportunity.

"Let's get going," Freya said, turning to Orion. "Mr. Black, if it's convenient for you."

Orion nodded.

Freya took something out of her pocket—a silver seashell, about the size of her palm.

"The door key," she handed to Regulus, "activate it at the door in five minutes. I'll wait outside."

She turned around, her steps steady and brisk, and walked out of the reception room.

Regulus took the seashell, holding it in his palm; it was cool and smooth.

He looked at Orion.

"Go," Orion patted him on the shoulder. "Remember, you represent the Black family."

Regulus nodded, turned and followed him out. He knew what his father meant: don't embarrass yourself.

Freya stood at the bottom of the steps at the entrance of number 12 Grimmauld Place, her back to him.

A warm summer breeze blew in from the street corner, ruffling the ends of her braids. Hearing footsteps, she didn't turn around, but simply looked up at the gloomy sky.

Regulus walked down the steps and stood beside her. The two waited in silence for a few minutes.

The seashell in his palm began to heat up, and then a force burst out from the seashell, hooking onto his navel and pulling him forward sharply.

The Grimmauld Place in front of me instantly distorted into a blurry band of light.

Regulus landed with his knees slightly bent to absorb the impact.

He steadied himself on rough, hard rocks, damp with seawater, and looked around.

They were standing on the edge of a cliff.

Behind us were rolling hills covered with dark green low shrubs, and occasionally a few trees could be seen leaning in the sea breeze.

The cliff stretched forward, then abruptly stopped at our feet, with gray-blue seawater dozens of meters below, waves crashing against the rocks with a dull roar.

The sky was low, the clouds were thick and dense, their edges broken into flakes by the wind, and the light was dim, making it impossible to tell whether it was morning or afternoon.

Regulus took a breath.

The air was filled with a strong, salty smell, mixed with the scent of some kind of algae.

The sea here is different from the sea in Cornwall. Although the sea breeze in Cornwall is also salty, it has a gentle, humid feel that seems to envelop you.

It's colder and harder here; the wind feels like fine sandpaper scraping your face.

On the distant sea, several rocky islands can be vaguely seen, their black outlines appearing and disappearing in the mist.

Further out, the gray-blue sea merges with the equally gray-blue sky, blurring the lines between them.

"Reef Town," Freya's voice rang out from the side.

Regulus turned his head, and she stood beside him, her gaze also fixed on the distance.

"In northern Germany, near the North Sea, fifty kilometers from the nearest Muggle town, there is a Phantom Movement restricted area, where access is mainly by door key and flying broom."

The permanent population is about three hundred, mostly employees and family members of the Eisenhardt family.

Regulus nodded, then turned back to continue looking at the horizon where the sea met the sky in the distance.

Freya also stood on the edge of the cliff, the wind making her clothes flutter, but she remained motionless, like a statue.

The whispers of the abyss—Regulus knew this name; he had also perused materials on foreign dark wizard organizations in the family library.

Whispers of the Abyss is a secretive, ancient, and highly elite international society of dark wizards.

They worship the deep sea and dedicate themselves to studying taboo knowledge related to the ocean.

Lost civilizations, ancient spells, and non-human beings hidden in the seabed.

The group has a small number of members, but each one is an elite.

Their operations are low-key and never ostentatious; their purpose is solely to acquire specific ancient artifacts or knowledge, not to create terror or amass wealth.

Regulus snapped out of his thoughts and asked, "Just the two of us?"

Freya turned to look at him: "It's just us. Others are in charge of the other places. This is the main attack point. They've come three times in the last month."

She paused for a moment, then added, "No more people are needed."

Regulus nodded.

Her English had a heavy German accent, and she pronounced each word very accurately, but her intonation was flat and lacked the intonation of a native English speaker.

Combined with her cool appearance and heroic figure, it creates a sense of contrast.

"Your accommodations are all arranged," Freya said, turning her head to look at him, but all she could see was the top of his head. "Come with me."

She turned and walked quickly along the path at the edge of the cliff, the gravel crunching under her boots.

Regulus followed behind.

The path meandered downhill, with low shrubs and rocks on both sides. After walking for about ten minutes, a cluster of buildings came into view.

The low stone houses, with their black roofs and narrow windows, were clearly designed to withstand North Sea storms.

The houses are scattered along the coastline, and in the distance you can see several towering towers with flickering flames on their tops.

Freya turned to face him: "You live in the one by the sea, it's close to me."

She pointed to the house closest to the edge of the cliff.

Two stories, the stone exterior walls were whitened by the sea breeze, the windows were tightly closed, and the chimney emitted thin wisps of smoke.

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