Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

At dinner, Regulus was still thinking about the book he had just read.

The book is thick, and the pages are also thick. Each page is illustrated with pictures, and the content is all standard. It doesn't take much time to read.

But as he flipped through the whole book, he discovered one thing: there was no magical plant that could replace the Man-Beating Willow.

It's not that other plants aren't strong enough.

For example, the idea of ​​Shadow Grass popped into his head when he saw its description.

This plant glows only in absolute darkness, and its magical properties are likely exclusive.

If we could extract this magic and develop it into a spell, it might be able to counter my father's shadow magic.

That kind of magic that creates absolute darkness and suppresses all senses is essentially a way of using magic.

If we can turn exclusivity into a spell to repel the father's magic, the next time the father uses that move to hit him, it should surprise him.

Regulus then thought of Dumbledore's light.

Could that method of dispelling darkness also be explained by exclusivity?

But upon closer reflection, it probably isn't.

Dumbledore is so powerful that he doesn't need exclusivity; he might not even need anything else involved.

He can do it if he wants to; that's a different level altogether.

Dumbledore once said that he did not use one attribute to fight another, but rather simply made darkness have no reason to exist.

Regulus shook his head, deciding not to think about it anymore; that was a matter for later.

The priorities are different. Even if Shadowgrass is very useful, it's just another means to use, while the physical crushing of Willow Branch is something that complements the Disintegrate Curse.

This is what we need most right now.

Moreover, Regulus always felt that there was something deeper behind the two magical tendencies that Professor Sprout mentioned, conduction and oscillation.

Conduction is sending force in, while vibration is detonating it inside.

If these two elements are combined and developed well, the result could be more than just physical crushing.

Even the transmission aspect alone is enough to spark imagination, but it needs to be verified.

But the prerequisite is that you need to have a "hitting willow".

However, since he promised the professor not to touch the tree at Hogwarts, they had no choice but to look for solutions elsewhere.

Regulus thought about those distribution points.

A magic reserve in Bulgaria, a dragon reserve in Romania, an ancient manor in southern France, and deep in the Black Forest of Germany.

With his abilities, he should be able to go to those places, and he should also be able to bring the "beating willow" home.

But the problem lies with the authorities.

Nature reserves are obviously government-run entities. Regardless of the strength of the government there, if you can obtain one through legitimate means, then it's better to do it through legitimate channels.

Using legitimate methods means no trouble, no one will investigate behind your back, no Aurors will come knocking, and no inquiries will be sent by the International Department of Magical Cooperation.

What he has no shortage of right now is trouble.

With Voldemort keeping an eye on things, Dumbledore watching, and Grindelwald waiting, it's not worth getting involved with a bunch of official forces just to save a little money.

But if he can't get it through legitimate means, and he's certain he has to get his hands on it, then we have to go back to the other side of the story.

The professor said it was a wild plant.

Since it's wild, it just happens to grow there, and there's no reason to say it's the property of the local government.

When it really comes to that, it'll all depend on individual abilities.

Regulus thought about all this, swallowed the lamb chop in his mouth, and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

Try the proper methods first. The best way is to buy it with money, and your father should support that.

Three thousand Galleons of Mandrake were exchanged for the Disintegration Curse.

My father had personally experienced the power of that spell and had also heard him describe its effects in detail.

They knew it wasn't just a powerful attack spell; it was something that could make the opponent disappear from the level of existence.

Knowing that it represents Regulus's depth of understanding of magic, his ability to transform magical plants into powerful magical energy, and proof of how far he can go.

Is there anything cheaper than this for 3,000 Galleons?

If any company knew they could get that kind of magic for that price, no one would refuse.

no one.

Even if the price of the "Hit-Man Willow" is dozens of times higher now, it's still an opportunity to exchange money for powerful magic.

If this were an opportunity for someone else, they wouldn't even know how to make money.

Regulus is not short of money, and neither is the Black family.

Even if you add two zeros to three thousand Galleons, making it three hundred thousand Galleons, it's not a particularly large number for the Black family.

Moreover, it's not just about money; the Black family also has political influence and international connections.

Orion probably knows more people than Regulus knows any names.

Those old friends who hold sinecure positions in the Ministry of Magic, those distant relatives with whom they have intermarried, and those foreign families to whom they owe favors—if we were to mobilize them, their influence would be considerable.

However, if you buy directly from the official source, anyone who isn't an idiot will know the value of the "beating willow".

If you simply pay money to buy, it's a seller's market, and the other party will definitely raise the price, possibly even demanding an exorbitant amount.

Orion surely understood; as the head of the Black family, he knew the difference between the individual and the official.

What would the father do?

Regulus thought for a moment and realized it would probably be another way.

Instead of directly asking to buy the Whomping Willow, first go through an intermediary and ask the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic what their recent needs are.

Are we lacking any magical materials? Are we lacking any alchemical products?

The Black family owns several shops, mines, herb gardens, and a magical animal breeding farm—things that the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic may not have.

Then we discussed a trade, offering what the Black family had in exchange for what the other party had.

The Whomping Willow is indispensable to the Black family, but to the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, it might just be a few trees growing in a protected area.

They were overjoyed when someone was willing to exchange scarce resources for it.

Even if the other party realizes the value of the Whomping Willow and wants to raise the price, the Black family's connections are not just empty words.

A director in the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic may have owed the Black family a favor in his youth.

The manager of a certain nature reserve may be related to the Blake family in some way.

Even without all of that, the father could still find influential people to talk to through several layers of connections.

If all else fails, there are more direct methods.

Who owns the Whomping Willow in the Bulgarian Magic Reserve?

Should it belong to the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic? Or to the owners of that land?

If it's the latter, then things are even simpler: find the owner of the land and talk to him privately.

No one will turn down Galon as long as the price is right.

My father will take all of these into account. He will calculate which method has the lowest cost, the least risk, and the fewest potential problems.

This is what a mature head of a family should look like.

With Orion around, Regulus didn't need to worry about these things. He just needed to explain his needs, and his father would handle the rest.

After dinner, he went back to his dormitory, took out parchment and a quill pen from his drawer, and began to write a letter.

"Father:

I need a mature *Salix viminalis* shrub.

This thing is found in several places: a magic reserve in Bulgaria, a dragon reserve in Romania, a manor in southern France, and deep in the Black Forest of Germany.

Mature plant, not seedling.

If possible, I hope to get it before Christmas.

The reason is the same as for mandrake; willow catkins complement it.

Regulus

After writing it down, he looked it over, folded it, took out his wand and tapped it lightly, and the Black family crest appeared on the parchment.

I walked out of the dormitory, through the corridor, and up to the owl hut next to the astronomical tower.

The eagle owl in the house was dozing on the shelf when it saw Regulus. It opened one eye and tilted its head to look at him.

Regulus tied the letter to its leg: "Give this to Father."

The eagle owl cried out, flapped its wings, and flew away, disappearing into the night.

Regulus turned and went downstairs, heading towards the Room of Requirement.

The next day at breakfast, the auditorium was as lively as ever.

The long table was laden with food, owls flew around, and newspapers were scattered everywhere.

Regulus sat down and had just picked up a slice of toast when he heard people talking nearby.

"Look at this."

A fifth-grade boy pointed to a small section of the Daily Prophet and read it aloud to the person next to him.

"The Ministry of Magic rejected the appeal to liberate domestic elves; it's the same old story."

The person next to him glanced at it and scoffed.

"Are those guys just bored? What do house-elves need freedom for?"

"Who knows? Maybe they're trying to curry favor with certain people."

"Who are you trying to please? Those poor wretches who don't even have elves?"

Several people laughed.

Regulus glanced at the newspaper.

The subheading was indeed insignificant, sandwiched between a long report about the dark wizard attack and Quidditch league scores, like a trivial matter.

Avery picked up a newspaper from the side, glanced at the news, and threw it back.

He didn't say anything, but his lips twitched slightly.

Suddenly, a loud voice rose from the Gryffindor table.

"You say they take pride in labor and are ashamed of freedom? I ask you, when did they begin to speak? When did they begin to learn to read?"

When did you start being told, "Your value is your service"?

The surroundings quieted down.

The voice continued, "You keep a life in a cage from birth and then say it doesn't want to go out. This only proves that your cage is sturdy enough."

On the Gryffindor side, some agreed, some disagreed, and an argument broke out.

Regulus didn't turn around; he knew who had said that.

That kind of resentment, that kind of rebellion, that kind of desire to smash all traditions—you won't find another like it at Hogwarts.

Continue eating breakfast.

The idea of ​​keeping house-elves is not worth paying attention to.

Because it is unimportant, and more importantly, because it is impossible for it to succeed.

The word "enslavement" is wrong when used to describe people; in fact, it is wrong in itself.

However, in the magical world, the relationship between wizards and house-elves cannot be simply described as enslavement.

House-elves and wizarding families are deeply intertwined.

They know the family's deepest secrets; they are recognized by the manor's magic as part of the family.

They know the family's deepest secrets; they are recognized by the manor's magic as part of the family.

They resemble furniture, walls, and ancestral portraits hanging on the walls.

Kreacher knew everything about the Black family, from Walbuga's secrets from his youth to Orion's personal belongings hidden in the study, to the magic practiced in Regulus's training room.

They were enslaved, but it was more like a symbiotic relationship.

Those who want to pass legislation to free them are being naive.

They thought this was justice, this was progress.

But they didn't consider where those freed house-elves could go or what they could do.

Suddenly push them out and say, "You're free," and then what?

They'll go crazy.

Even if all the elves were to awaken free will, the wizarding society would be greatly impacted.

Once they recall their past enslavement, they crave revenge—

Many adult wizards are no match for a house-elf; they can even be disarmed by the elf.

And even if this bill does pass, so what?

Pure-blood families won't hand over their house-elves; would the Ministry of Magic dare to come knocking and snatch them?

Those families that have been around for hundreds of years have people in Wizengamor, in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and in various departments of the Ministry of Magic.

Even if the Ministry of Magic could pass this bill, they could also make it impossible to implement it.

So just take a look at this kind of thing and treat it as a joke.

Don't say it's impossible now, it will be the same in twenty years.

Regulus finished his breakfast, wiped his mouth, and stood up.

Avery and the others got up too.

As I left the Great Hall, the debate in Gryffindor was still going on.