Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Leaving his office, Regulus slowly walked towards the library, his footsteps echoing through the stone corridors.

He was still thinking about what Professor McGonagall had said.

Location, relationships, points on the timeline, what can change, and what cannot change.

The professor's words were easy to understand, but too abstract.

He could understand the meaning of each word, and put them together to understand what the professor was trying to say.

But if you combine these things with magic, with transfiguration, he couldn't imagine what that would look like.

A table has its place, a room has its place, a castle has its place. If you change their places, will they still be the same?

If the relationships between a match and the box of matches it belongs to, the hands that lit it, and the moment it was about to burn, change, would it still be the same match?

As for the point in time, Regulus recalled what he had just done: turning oak into linden.

That match was produced at a certain point in time, picked up by him at a certain point in time, and transformed by him at a certain point in time.

Now its materials have changed, but those points in time are still there—the point in time when it was produced is still there, the point in time when it was picked up is still there, and the point in time when it was transformed is still there.

What if one day someone could change those specific times as well?

Change the time a match was produced from last year to a hundred years ago, and change the time a match is lit from the next second to never.

The match is still the same match, but what exactly has been changed?

Or has nothing changed at all?

Regulus couldn't figure out the answer, but he couldn't help but marvel at how amazing magic was.

It seems to have no end; every field, every kind of magic, is worth pursuing for a lifetime.

There's always a way forward.

However, that path is only open to a very small number of wizards, and for most wizards, magic has an end.

And also about fate.

He just asked Professor McGonagall, "Is that fate?"

The professor gave the answer: it wasn't fate, it was position. But following this question, Regulus wondered, what is fate?

From a timeline perspective, fate is probably the sum of things that have happened, things that are happening, and things that will happen.

A person does something at a certain time, which leads to a certain result, and that result leads to the next result.

One after another, like a chain, like a river.

Perhaps this is fate.

He recalled his experiences in Germany, the things Grindelwald had arranged, the people he had met, the battles he had fought, and finally, his slumber in the deep sea.

Does that count as involving fate?

Regulus thought about it and decided it probably didn't count.

Interfering with fate means pulling him off his original path and forcing him onto another one.

But that's just how his path has always been.

Grindelwald simply saw his path, placed a few markers along the way, and whether or not he walked on it was his own business.

Moreover, even without those arrangements, would he eventually end up somewhere else?

He doesn't know, maybe, but thinking about it is pointless.

Fate may only be meaningful to those who know it.

For those who can see destiny, destiny is a river, and they stand on the bank, watching how the river flows.

But for those who swim in the river, fate is the water itself. They don't think about where the water comes from or where it goes; they only think about how to swim steadily and avoid drowning.

Regulus thought he was probably one of those people who swim in the river, and he didn't know where he would end up.

But at least for now, he's swimming pretty well.

Then he realized that only a few days into the semester, two professors were already giving him private lessons: Professor Slughorn and Professor McGonagall.

They didn't teach him any specific magic, no new spells, no new techniques.

They are all conveying a concept, a philosophy about magic, about what magic is, about how far transfiguration can go, and about those truly profound realms.

Regulus couldn't help but wonder why.

Was it because he happened to demonstrate something unconventional in class, which was noticed by the professors, who then pointed it out to him?

Or were the professors simply waiting for him, waiting until he reached a point where he needed this level of expertise, so they could provide guidance?

He didn't know, maybe it was both, but he dismissed the thought, realizing that thinking about these things was pointless.

Whether the professors meant it or not, he heard what they said and he remembered the reasoning, and that's enough.

But I must say, the professors treated him very well.

Just as his thoughts settled, he remembered the spatial transformation he had just performed in the office.

The distortion he just made in space, though it was only the size of a palm and just the most basic twist, was something he created himself.

The further refinement of star trail meditation brings about comprehensive progress.

With a stronger spirit, more precise control over magic, and a deeper understanding of magic.

Spatial magic has always been the focus of his research. From spatial warp to spell teleportation, from spatial anchors to the slightest transformation today, every step has been slow, but every step has been moving forward.

Once you get started, the future is absolutely bright.

His steps became lighter.

Meanwhile, on the third floor, in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, third-year students were having a class.

Gryffindor and Slytherin sat in two separate groups, separated by several rows of empty tables.

The air was thick with that familiar smell of gunpowder; the students on both sides disliked each other, but they couldn't actually fight in class.

A new face stood on the platform: Ezra Vance.

The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year is in his forties, tall and thin, with meticulously combed hair, sharp eyes, and a slight Irish accent when he speaks.

"Dark creatures," he said, his gaze sweeping across the classroom, "are one of the threats facing the wizarding world. You learned some basic coping methods in the lower grades, but that's far from enough."

He waved his wand, and several lines of words appeared on the blackboard.

Werewolf, Dementor, Red Hat, Grindelwald.

"Today, let's start with the most common ones."

He looked at everyone: "Does anyone know the most effective way to deal with werewolves?"

The young wizards in the classroom were whispering amongst themselves, but the professor ignored them and let them discuss. Then someone raised their hand.

The professor called out, "Mr. Potter."

James stood up, a cynical smile on his face: "Run."

A low chuckle rippled through the classroom.

The professor, expressionless, asked, "Run? Where do you think you're going?"

James winked at Sirius: "Running towards people? Werewolves lose their minds on the night of the full moon, but they instinctively avoid people. Wait, no, they are running towards people."

The professor stared at him: "So?"

James shrugged. "So running won't work. How about using a spell? A stunning spell? A binding spell?"

The professor shook his head: "Werewolves have extremely strong resistance to ordinary spells. With your skills, a stun spell would at most knock out a few hairs."

James frowned: "Then what do we do?"

The professor didn't answer, but looked at the others: "Does anyone know?"

Sirius sat next to James, not raising his hand, his gaze fixed on the line of words on the blackboard.

werewolf.

A thought flashed through his mind.

He remembered that Remus would always take a few days off each month, claiming to be sick, but the timing of his leave was always the same, around the time of the full moon.

And every time he came back, his complexion was frighteningly bad, as if he had been tortured by something.

Sirius remembered something else.

One night, he woke up in the middle of the night to find Remus's bed empty. When he asked him about it the next day, Remus said he had gone to the medical wing.

But Sirius was a regular at the Medical Wing, and he didn't smell the disinfectant on Remus.

He looked at Remus.

Remus sat on the other side of James, head down, face pale, his hand clutching a quill pen, but his whole arm was trembling.

He was nervous.

Sirius averted his gaze.

Werewolves, on the night of the full moon, always take a fixed leave every month. When the professor talks about werewolves, his face turns ugly, and he dares not look at people.

These fragments pieced together in his mind, forming a vague outline.

He wasn't sure, but he was beginning to have doubts.

The professor waited a while longer, but no one answered.

He said directly, "The most terrifying thing about werewolves is not their strength, but their stealth. They look just like ordinary people most of the time, and they only transform on the night of a full moon."

Therefore, the most effective response is identification.

His gaze swept over everyone: "Knowing who the werewolves are is the key to avoiding them; knowing who the werewolves are is the key to being prepared when they transform; knowing who the werewolves are is the key to protecting yourself."

He continued, "Then how do you identify it?"

The classroom fell silent as all the young wizards looked at him, and the professor nodded in satisfaction.

"When a werewolf is not transformed, there is no obvious difference between him and an ordinary person."

However, there are some subtle signs: they are sensitive to silver, have an unusually keen sense of smell, and experience inexplicable fatigue around the full moon.

"Of course, the most direct way to identify them is to observe their movements. They disappear for a few days every month and always come back as if they've had a serious illness. If you know someone like that—"

James listened without much change in expression. He wasn't even paying attention; he was just flipping through the book quickly, focusing on the illustrations and making clicking noises under his breath.

Sirius glanced at Remus again.

Remus's face turned even paler, and his body began to tremble.

Sirius Black turned his gaze back to the blackboard.

werewolf.

He thought he should probably talk to James.

The professor began to talk about other dark creatures, how to identify and defend against Dementors, the weaknesses of the Red Hat, and the habitat of Grindelwald.

He spoke very quickly and conveyed a lot of information, and most people were busy taking notes.

Sirius was also taking notes, but his mind was already elsewhere; he was thinking about Remus.

If that's the case, what should we do?

That's his brother, the brother he slept with for over two years.

They played pranks together, stayed up all night chatting, and spent Christmas together at James's house.

What should I do if he has this problem? Distance myself from him? Kick him out?

Sirius cursed inwardly, "Screw it."

Of course not, not even a second thought. That's Remus, who cares what it is.

James seemed oblivious, still happily taking notes. Sirius remained silent; this matter needed to be discussed with James first.

But he knew what James would choose.

That guy may seem carefree, but he's very clear-headed and never ambiguous when it comes to his friends.

When have these people ever cared about these ridiculous rules?

Sirius averted his gaze and continued pretending to take notes, already having an idea in mind.

The bell rang, and the professor closed his book: "Next week we'll talk about Boggart and the Red Hat. Go home and prepare."

He strode out of the classroom.

The classroom instantly became lively. James stood up and stretched, saying, "This professor is quite interesting; he doesn't beat around the bush when he talks about things."

Lupin didn't speak, and lowered his head to put away his book.

James patted Lupin on the shoulder: "Come on, let's go eat."

Lupin looked up and forced a smile: "You guys go ahead, I...I have something to do."

James frowned: "What is it? You always seem to have something on your mind."

Lupin shook his head: "It's alright, really, you guys go first."

Before James could say anything more, Sirius pulled him back: "Let's go."

James glanced at him, then at Lupin, shrugged, and walked out with Sirius.

Peter's little eyes darted around, and he followed.

Lupin remained in his seat, head down, motionless.

After a long while, he slowly stood up, put the books into his bag, and walked out of the classroom.