Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

In the autumn of 1962, Regulus was one and a half years old, and Sirius was three.

Sirius's section of the nursery was in complete disarray, with toy broom parts, a biting magic top, and a box of fairy-made metal puzzles scattered on the floor.

Regulus's corner was always tidy, with a few picture books on a dark blue carpet and a motionless ragdoll cat, which used to move but was broken by Sirius.

That afternoon, Kreacher was using magic to clean the windows, but his ears were perked up, listening to the two young masters' movements, and his eyes were also glancing over in this direction out of the corner of his eye.

Sirius had just brought a miniature broom from Orion's study; it was a miniature model of a real broom, used as a teaching tool to demonstrate the principles of the Flight Charm.

"Look closely, Regulus!" Sirius shouted, trying to get Regulus's attention. "It's a broom! A real wizard's broom! I can make it float!"

He put the broom on the carpet, took two steps back, took a deep breath, and his face began to turn red from the effort.

"Get up!" he shouted, using both hands to lift the object upwards.

The broom moved slightly, one end rising at about a five-degree angle before falling back to its original position.

"Get up! Get up!" Sirius tried twice more, but this time the broom rolled half a circle in place and didn't fly up.

Kreacher held his breath, knowing that the broom was under a limiting spell, and only someone who understood the levitation spell—which required imagining weightlessness—could activate it.

This was a tool Orion used to test children's magical comprehension. Sirius thought he had stolen it, but that was precisely Orion's purpose.

Sirius clearly hasn't understood yet.

"Why not?" he angrily kicked the carpet. "Dad can make it fly!"

Regulus, however, moved at that moment. He got up from the carpet, faster than usual, walked to the broom, and then plopped down on it.

Sirius looked at him, then curled his lip in disbelief: "You want to try too? You can't even speak properly."

Regulus ignored him, simply extending his right index finger and hovering it above the broom.

Then, with a flick of his finger, the broom slowly rose, hovering motionless in the air at the height of Regulus's eyes.

Sirius's mouth dropped open in surprise, and the rag that Kreacher was controlling fell to the ground.

With a gentle press of Regulus's finger, the broom slowly descended and returned to its original position, exactly as it had been before.

Sirius stammered, "You...how could you..."

He was completely confused about the situation. Why could his younger brother do things that he couldn't?

Regulus turned his head and, in a childish but clear voice, uttered his first complete sentence: "Think, then do."

"What are you thinking about?" Sirius asked instinctively.

"Think of it as light," Regulus said, pointing to the broom. "Don't think of it as heavy."

"But it's already heavy!"

"I don't think it's heavy."

"How is that possible?"

Regulus tilted his head, seemingly considering how to explain, then patted the carpet beside him and said to Sirius, "Sit."

Sirius obediently sat down, completely ignoring why his younger brother could speak so clearly as soon as he opened his mouth.

Regulus picked up a fallen leaf that had drifted in through the window, placed it in his palm, and said, "It's light."

"right."

"I think it's heavy."

Sirius stared at the leaf, trying to imagine it as heavy as a stone.

But nothing happened.

“No.” Regulus, as if knowing what Sirius was thinking, said, “It’s not about thinking ‘it’s as heavy as something,’ it’s about forgetting that it’s light, and then it is heavy.”

Sirius frowned. This was too abstract; he had never imagined it this way before. He scratched his head, looking completely bewildered.

Regulus swayed as he got up and returned to his corner, leaving Sirius alone to struggle with himself.

He had finished his teaching, but such an understanding was still too early for three-and-a-half-year-old Sirius.

But he is different; age has never been a limitation when it comes to understanding and insight.

After dinner, Orion called Kreacher to his study.

"That teaching broom," Orion asked, sitting behind his desk, frowning, "Did Regulus make it levitate?"

"Yes...yes, Master." Kreacher nervously twisted the tea towel. "Young Master Regulus made it fly, a foot, very steadily."

"He spoke?"

"They said a few words," Kreacher repeated what Regulus had said to Sirius.

After listening, Orion remained silent for a long time. The portraits of his ancestors on the study wall pretended to look elsewhere, but their ears were all perked up.

"From now on," Orion finally said, "let Regulus do whatever he wants, as long as it's not dangerous, but keep an eye on him, record his actions, and report back to me every evening before dinner."

"Yes, Master!"

......

In December 1963, 12 Grimmauld Place was preparing for Christmas.

Sirius Black just turned four a month ago and is at the age where he feels like he's the coolest kid in the world.

He stood in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips, and declared to a half-decorated Christmas tree: "I'm going to make the bells on the tree ring by themselves!"

Walbuga poked his head out from the second floor: "Sirius, stop messing around. Kreacher, hang the silver ball higher. Last year it was hung too low, and Andromeda almost hit his head."

"Yes, mistress." Kreacher extended his slender fingers and manipulated the silver ball to rise even higher.

Regulus sat on the thick carpet by the fireplace, as quiet as a potted fern in the corner.

The soul from another world has been in this body for three years. He has long accepted reality. This is a magical world. He is Regulus Black, the tragic character who died young in the original work.

But he had no intention of repeating the tragedy; he had bigger goals: the stars, the universe, those areas never touched upon in the original work.

As for Sirius?

"Let him be," Regulus thought, "he'll eventually become a champion of justice, a hero who fights Voldemort anyway."

As long as I live, the Black family's resources will be my springboard; there's no need to compete with a four-year-old.

"Regulus! Watch closely!" Sirius's voice pulled him back to reality.

Sirius took a deep breath, stared at a golden bell on the treetop, his face turning red again as he made a grabbing motion with both hands.

Magic began to surge.

"Get moving!" Sirius shouted.

Regulus's magical perception was exceptionally sharp, as if he had an extra sensory system. He could see Sirius's magical power surging and about to get out of control.

boom!

The entire Christmas tree began to shake violently.

The star decorations on the treetop fell and hit Kreacher on the head; the hanging candy canes collided with each other, and the glass marbles jingled.

A string of magical colored lights on the treetops, which could change colors on their own, suddenly began to flash wildly, at a frequency as fast as an epileptic seizure.

"Stop! Stop!" Walbuga rushed down the stairs.

But it's too late.

Sirius was terrified by his own magic. He wanted to stop, but he couldn't. The young child's face was full of panic as he waved his hands in vain, which made the output of magic even more unstable.

boom!

The three floor-to-ceiling windows on the east side of the living room shattered simultaneously.

Glass shards shot outwards, but fortunately they were slowed down and stopped by the protective spell; otherwise, the entire street outside would have been in turmoil.

The chandelier swayed wildly, its crystal pendants colliding with each other and making a piercing noise.

"what!"

The portraits screamed in unison, with Phineas Nigellus yelling the loudest: "Barbarian! Black has indeed fallen!"

Walbuga raised his wand and a powerful calming spell struck Sirius.

He stumbled backward a few steps, fell to the ground, and stared blankly at his hands.

Wolbuga's expression was fascinating, initially one of anger, but then more pride.

"The magic is plentiful," she said in a strange tone, "but it's in the wrong direction. Next time, aim for something useless, like those ugly vases your father collected."

Sirius blinked, not understanding; he thought he was going to get scolded.

Regulus closed the book.

This is the trouble with wizard cubs. He sighed. His magic fluctuated with his emotions, like a pressure cooker without a safety valve, ready to explode at any moment.

Kreacher began cleaning up the mess, while Walbuga gave Sirius a complicated look before turning and going back upstairs.

Sirius sat on the carpet, looking at his hands, then at the shattered window, and finally at Regulus.

"I did it," he said softly.

Regulus nodded: "Impressive."