Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

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Polyus's magic is stable, just like him—steady, restrained, and without malice.

Veronica's magic was a bit sharper, but that was fine too.

Regulus was certain that the new setup designed by the two men was not aimed at him.

That leaves only one possibility: someone knows that the new prefect has added this step.

Then, he approached Jeffrey outside of school, encouraged him, gave him something, and told him to make a name for himself that day, win a few matches, and finally challenge Regulus.

Jeffrey was clearly persuaded.

These small families, barely even bordering on pureblood, either live a peaceful life or desperately climb the social ladder.

But whether this was the Thaler family's idea or Jeffrey's own, it doesn't matter now.

The magic within him was about to spiral out of control.

If Regulus doesn't realize it, he will accept the challenge.

He certainly wouldn't refuse. It would be so meaningful for the new chief to challenge the previous one, to pass on the torch, to provide guidance, and to do everything he could to save face.

Even with Regulus's level, even just the level he showed in school, Jeffrey would have to go all out to beat him.

Whether he genuinely wanted guidance, made an impression, or simply wanted to defeat Regulus and achieve lasting fame, he had to give it his all.

Then Jeffrey will get into trouble in front of everyone.

They might faint on the spot, be seriously injured, or their magic might never obey them again.

It could be more serious; they might be unable to improve from then on, forever stuck at the first-year level, not much better than a dud.

Or worse.

The person who designed this is quite good at choosing the right time and the right people.

There just happens to be a new member of this small family, easy to manipulate and instigate, and no one will stand up for him if something goes wrong.

There are only a handful of people who know about the new class leader and the new procedures: the class leader himself, the people involved in the preparations, and those who inquired about the news in advance.

But there's no need to guess or prove it; that malice is right here in the lounge.

Just like when Arnold Belmont jumped out, it was cold, cruel, and bloody.

Dorfin Roll, seventh grader, eldest son of the Roll family.

He is usually very low-key, rarely speaks in public, stands in the corner at gatherings, and sits on the edge when eating. His presence is so low that people sometimes forget he even exists.

But everyone knows what kind of person Dorfin is, and even more so what kind of person the Rohr family is.

He stood in the shadows, his hands in his robe pockets, his posture languid, a faint smile playing on his lips.

He was looking at Regulus with great interest, his gaze never once falling on Jeffrey.

It was as if the little wizard standing in the center of the scene, pale-faced and at a loss, about to become the protagonist of this play, was just a nobody who didn't need to be remembered.

He was indeed a nobody.

The Sayler family?

It's not even a tool, just a prop.

What does it have to do with him if it's used up, broken, or thrown away?

When he saw Regulus looking over, he raised his glass in a casual gesture, his expression relaxed.

But Regulus received that malice completely.

It's him again. This is the second time that Luo Er has targeted him.

The first time was when Arnold Belmont jumped out.

The second time is now.

But Regulus could only confirm it was him by sensing malice; he never showed himself, never took action, and never left any evidence.

It must be said that compared to Belmont's last outburst, this time the methods are much more sophisticated.

Belmont took matters into his own hands, stepping forward to force him to make a statement.

The result was that they were publicly humiliated, forced to kneel in shame, lost their family business, and were forced to move out of England.

That's risky.

The Belmont family is not the kind of small family that can be easily manipulated; they have room to resist.

While it certainly won't stop the Black family's retaliation, it's entirely possible to expose the person behind it all.

Not seeking forgiveness, but at least stopping the retaliation, making them pay the price, and keeping them in Britain.

Although the reason is unknown, they chose to shoulder everything themselves, but the risk certainly exists.

This time is different.

Jeffrey Sayler, a newcomer from a small, arrogant family.

Anyone can sway him with a few words, give him something, tell him what to do and what he can get, and he'll believe them.

Regulus was certain that if the investigation continued, the trail would eventually end with him.

He himself may not have retained any real information; that memory was either empty or filled with falsehoods, making it impossible for later generations to find.

If Regulus accepts the challenge, Jeffrey will inevitably be in trouble.

But what does this have to do with Rohr?

He didn't do anything; he just watched a welcome party.

If Regulus hadn't had such keen magical perception that he could directly detect that malice, he wouldn't have been able to even catch a glimpse of Rol.

But Raul was unaware that Regulus could sense malice; this was his blind spot.

If it's off-campus—

Regulus looked at the figure raising his glass in acknowledgment and nodded slightly in response, but a thought was swirling in his mind.

If it were off-campus, he wouldn't need evidence, speculation, or even a reason.

That malice alone is enough.

You dare to harbor such malice towards me, dare to appear before me, and even dare to take action.

You have already chosen a path to death.

All he needs to do is discover, confirm, and remember.

Then, it's time for the other person to die.

No trial is needed, no conviction is needed, and no one needs to know.

All it takes is one day, one opportune moment, one secluded corner where no one can see, to make Dorfin Roll disappear from this world.

It's that simple.

But this is Hogwarts, a castle with Dumbledore, professors, and countless eyes.

Even if Regulus had ample evidence to prove that this was a conspiracy orchestrated by Roll, even if he could identify Roll.

and then?

As members of the same Holy Twenty-Eight Clans and heirs of the same pure-blooded family, what will happen to Roel because of this?

Solitary confinement?

Points deducted?

Write a self-criticism?

Regulus shook his head slightly; this was definitely not going to work.

Regardless of any conflicts or even old grudges between the Rolle and Black families that he was unaware of.

Regardless of how high the Roll family's position was on Voldemort's side, how much trust they enjoyed, or what they were busy with.

Regardless of whether Roll came for him, for the Blake family, or just wanted to watch the show.

None of this matters.

One thing is certain: Dorfin Rolle cannot be allowed to live to graduate.

Regulus withdrew his gaze, his expression unchanged. The malice remained in his senses, as clear as a fire in the darkness.

Luo Er was still looking at him, a faint smile still playing on his lips.

He was unaware that Regulus had seen right through him, unaware that his malice had been fully received and confirmed.

He thought he was in the shadows, he thought he was the hunter.

Let him think that way.

Everyone around was still watching Regulus; no one knew why he had suddenly called off the final duel.

But no one spoke up.

If someone else had done this, there would have been protests, sarcastic remarks, and direct questioning.

But when Regulus did this, everyone just fell silent and waited for him to speak.

It's not because I'm afraid, it's just that there's no need.

At Regulus's level, he has his reasons for everything he does and doesn't do. Whether others understand them or not is their business; Regulus doesn't need to explain.

Those who disliked him the most, those who thought the Black family was nothing special and that Regulus was nothing remarkable, would not think he was deliberately showing off his status.

That's beneath you. People who truly stand at the top don't need to jump up to be seen.

Only those who lack confidence need to constantly prove themselves, and only those who have just climbed up need to repeatedly remind others who they are.

Regulus no longer needs to show off like this.

Veronica Yaxley walked up behind Pollius.

With a slightly concerned expression, she walked up to Regulus and bent down slightly: "Regulus, what happened?"

The Yaxley family and the Black family were acquainted.

Walbuga and Mrs. Yaxley were frequent guests at each other's tea parties, inviting each other several times a year.

She had heard Regulus's name at home more often than she had in Slytherin.

Given this relationship, it was only natural for her to call him by his name.

Regulus nodded to her: "There's a problem, I need to confirm it."

His gaze swept across the crowd, and in the third-year section, in a less central area, he found Snape.

Snape sat in the corner, leaning against the back of the sofa, his expression gloomy.

A few people sat sparsely around him, most of them like him, mixed-race or on the verge of being pure-blooded.

They occupied a small area; the atmosphere was somber and oppressive.

Regulus simply called him "Snape".

The voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear, and all eyes followed Regulus's gaze and fell on Snape.

Snape paused for a moment, then looked up and met Regulus's gaze.

There was a moment of surprise in those eyes, followed by wariness, and then something indescribable.

Regulus's voice was calm, as if he were saying casually, "Go see if Sele has drunk any potions."

The lounge fell silent instantly.

The sounds of conversation, hushed discussions, and clinking glasses were all gone.

Only the crackling of the flames burning in the fireplace remained.

Magic potion?

What does that mean?

Over there, several students who had been sitting casually straightened up.

Some people frowned, some exchanged glances, and some twitched their lips as if they wanted to say something but then swallowed it back.

In Slytherin, the First Freshman is a position earned through hard work. No one knows exactly how many generations this tradition has lasted, but everyone acknowledges its significance.

At other times, you can use your family background to intimidate others or use connections to pave your way, but when you're in that circle, you should rely on yourself.

Using potions is cheating, and the worst kind at that. Anyone caught doing so will never be able to hold their head high in Slytherin again.

All eyes turned from Snape to Jeffrey.

Jeffrey stood in the center of the arena, his body trembling uncontrollably. His face was deathly pale, and even the hand holding his wand was shaking, causing the tip of the wand to wobble as if it might fall at any moment.

He was speechless; at that moment, he had only one thought in his mind.

It's over, it's over, it's over.

People in the upperclassmen's group started whispering among themselves.

"Use magic potions? Are you crazy?"

"If they find out, you're finished. Do you think you can stay in the workforce after that?"

"Who gave him the guts?"

"The key question is, how was he identified? How did Blake know?"

Snape stood up and, under everyone's gaze, walked through the crowd to the center of the arena.

I walked each step very steadily, but that was deliberate; in reality, my heart was not at peace.

Regulus called him, in front of everyone.

Snape knew this was an opportunity.

He's not stupid. If Blake could see right through Jeffrey, he couldn't possibly be incapable of seeing even more clearly.

If Blake wanted to confirm it himself, he could just go over and take a look; it would only take a few words.

Blake is giving him a chance.

Snape needed this, he desperately needed it, but a strange feeling also arose within him.

gratitude?

Have.

But while he was grateful, he also felt awkward. He didn't want to owe anyone anything, especially not Blake.

But he already owed him. Last time, Regulus accepted his thanks, but he knew in his heart that he owed him.

And now, once again.

Snape gripped his wand tightly and walked up to Jeffrey.

Jeffrey looked at him, his eyes filled with fear and pleading.

Snape didn't even glance at him; he held out his hand: "Wand."