Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

McGonagall thought for a moment: "He asked a lot of Transfiguration questions, profound, but not dark."

Dumbledore nodded, then asked with interest, "Have you seen his Patronus?"

McGonagall paused for a moment, then shook her head.

"I have seen it," Dumbledore said with a hint of pride. "The Starry Sky Kite, a guardian that can travel through space."

That's the power of the magical creature itself; it's uncommon, in fact, very rare, but what it represents is more important than any other form.

He continued, "That child has light in his heart, a light bright enough."

McGonagall looked at him, a question flashing through her mind.

Guardian deity?

There was very little precedent for this in the Blake family; she had met many Blakes in all her years of teaching.

Most of them are intelligent, most are proud, and most are talented in magic, but what about the guardian deity?

Few can be summoned.

Sirius Black is a possibility. Although that kid is mischievous, doesn't study hard, loves to play pranks, and bullies others, his mind is not on the right track at all.

But he was happy, a kind of happiness that came from the bottom of his heart, a happiness that didn't care about anything else.

McGonagall had no doubt that as he grew older, he would have enough happy memories in his mind to help him call upon his Patronus whenever he wanted.

But did Regulus also have enough happiness in his heart?

McGonagall found herself unable to answer. She was interested in the child, but her interest lay in the magical aspect.

A talent for transfiguration, those profound questions, and an understanding beyond his years.

As for what his life was like and what he was thinking, she didn't really know much, after all, she was the head of Gryffindor.

Albus said he had it, and McGonagall naturally believed him.

But the starry kite?

Like a phoenix?

Fantastic Beasts: Guardians of the Monsters?

McGonagall watched Dumbledore's retreating figure, her thoughts wandering.

What is Mr. Black, the Slytherin boy, hiding in his heart?

Dumbledore took a step forward, the moonlight shining on him: "He came here last full moon night, with his brother, and I spoke with him for a while."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, snapping out of her reverie, and asked, "What did you talk about?"

"We talked a lot, about magic, about ourselves, about werewolves," Dumbledore said.

McGonagall listened intently.

"That boy has found his way," Dumbledore said. "Everything he does is on that path."

"Whether it's Fiendfyre, Transfiguration, or that strange flight just now, it was all his own choice."

He looked at McGonagall: "Minerva, do you think a child with a dark heart can ask those questions? Can she summon that kind of guardian spirit?"

Could someone land themselves in the Forbidden Forest and come up with such a...ingenious way of flying?

McGonagall remained silent for a long time: "Maybe you're right, but I'm still worried."

Dumbledore laughed: "It's normal to worry. You're his professor, not his enemy."

McGonagall remained serious: "Albus, you're always so optimistic."

Dumbledore shook his head: "Not optimism, but belief."

He looked at the castle in the distance: "Trust this child's heart, trust the path he has chosen, and believe that when he encounters problems, he will find his own way to solve them."

Just now, he wanted to fly, so he built something that could fly.

McGonagall followed his gaze: "That thing he just had, it really was..."

She thought for a suitable word: "...creative."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Gryffindor might be a better fit for him."

McGonagall glared at him. "Albus, he's a Slytherin."

"I know, I'm just saying that the drive to think and act is like Gryffindor."

McGonagall didn't respond.

In the distance, the door to the Screaming House opened, and several figures walked out.

James and Sirius supported Lupin, with Peter Pettigrew following behind. The four of them walked very slowly, and Lupin was practically being dragged along.

McGonagall's expression instantly turned serious: "These few—"

Dumbledore raised his hand to interrupt her: "Minerva."

McGonagall looked at him, her expression displeased.

Dumbledore laughed and said, "Tonight has been lively enough. Let them go back."

McGonagall took a deep breath, watched the four students' backs, and didn't lash out.

The two stood there, watching the four figures slowly walk towards the castle.

After a while, McGonagall said, "I'm going back."

Dumbledore nodded.

McGonagall turned around, took a few steps, then turned back: "Albus, do you really believe him?"

Dumbledore thought for a moment, then asked, "Minerva, do you know what that child has been doing for the past month?"

McGonagall shook her head.

"He wanted to integrate his will into the space of Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, "to make some kind of guardian will a part of the space."

McGonagall froze: "He—"

"It didn't work," Dumbledore said, "but he tried, and he tried many times."

He asked, "Minerva, do you know what this means?"

McGonagall didn't say anything.

"Manifesting one's will and applying it to the outside world is not something an ordinary wizard can do. Many wizards never even get close to this door in their entire lives, but he was already knocking on the door in his second year."

McGonagall remained silent.

Dumbledore continued, "Did you feel his fierce fire just now?"

That control, that taming—Firefire obeyed him, and only because it wanted to.

He looked at McGonagall with a gentle expression: "That child's will is strong enough. His will to protect and his taming of the Fiendfire all prove this."

Such a will will not be easily influenced by external forces, will not be manipulated by others, and will not go astray.

He has his own ideas, his own choices, and his own path.

"Minerva, perhaps you can try to trust him and give him some time."

Dumbledore concluded by saying, "The will to protect is beautiful, isn't it?"

McGonagall remained silent for a long time before finally nodding. "I understand."

After saying that, she turned and walked towards the castle.

Dumbledore stood there, watching her figure disappear, then he turned around and looked towards the Forbidden Forest.

Infuse your will into space, let protection become an extension, and fly with fierce fire.

Each of these things, taken individually, is astonishing, but when put together, they remind him of another person.

He could also tame powerful flames, and his will was so strong that it could not be ignored.

He also likes to do unconventional things in unconventional ways.

Regulus's Fiendfire was orange-red, but he tamed it with his will, and in that same direction.

If we add something else, some judgment, some decisiveness, will it also turn blue?

Dumbledore shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips, and his beard twitched.

Haha, you're overthinking it.

How could it be Regulus? He's never seen him before.

He turned and walked toward the castle.

The moonlight shone from behind, casting a long shadow over him.

......

Regulus opened his eyes, feeling refreshed. He had been up all night, but had slept quite well.

He sat up, stretched his neck, and then felt someone watching him.

He turned his head.

Hermes was sitting in his chair, staring straight at him with a somewhat resentful expression.

His hair was a mess, his clothes were wrinkled, and there were still traces of sweat on his face.

The person looked as if they had been pulled out of the water and left to dry on the ground overnight.

Hermes was indeed melancholy.

Regulus left early last night. Before he left, he asked him if he was coming back.

Regulus replied, but perhaps later.

Hermes didn't think much of it and continued practicing until he was exhausted. He lay down on the ground, waiting to be rescued.

They waited all night, but no one came.

Because he had trained so hard, he didn't regain his strength until almost dawn and managed to climb back on his own.

Regulus remained calm, his heart unmoved, and he even felt a slight urge to laugh.

He threw back the covers, stood up, and walked toward the bathroom.

As he passed Hermes, he remained composed and greeted him calmly, "Good morning."

Hermes opened his eyes wide, staring at Regulus's retreating figure, his mouth opening and closing but no words came out.

morning?

Is that all you mean by "good morning"?

Hermes stood up and followed him into the washroom, standing at the door watching Regulus wash up.

Regulus's movements were fluid and natural, showing no sign of remorse whatsoever.

Hermes leaned against the doorframe, saying nothing.

He waited all night, hoping that Regulus would wake up and see him first.

I don't want to do anything, I just want him to see what I look like.

Regulus glanced at it, said good morning, and then went about his business.

Hermes was at a loss; he couldn't very well make him apologize, could he?

Thinking of this, a picture suddenly flashed through Hermes' mind.

Regulus stood before him, his expression serious and his tone sincere, and said, "Hermes, I'm sorry."

His body trembled.

No, that image is too scary.

If Regulus were to truly apologize, it must be something very serious, so serious that he felt he had no choice but to apologize.

He definitely couldn't handle that kind of apology.

Let's just leave it as it is.

Regulus finished washing up, dried his face, and glanced at him in the mirror: "Aren't you going to wash up?"

Hermes took a breath, stood up straight, and went inside, taking off his clothes as he went.

When the afternoon bell rang, Regulus walked toward Slughorn's office.

October 21st, this Saturday, happens to be the weekend.

With his current abilities, he could easily Apparate to France if he wanted to, but he can't do that at Hogwarts.

We have to follow the procedures, ask for leave, inform the professor, and keep a record. We still have to abide by the rules.

The office door was ajar, and Regulus knocked on it.

"Come in!"

Slughorn sat behind his desk, holding a glass of mead, with several plates of candied fruit on the table.

When he saw Regulus enter, his eyes lit up: "Regulus! Come, sit down."

Regulus sat down opposite him.

Slughorn pushed the plate of candied fruit toward him: "Try it, it's fresh from Italy."

Regulus took a piece and put it in his mouth: "Delicious, sweet."

Slughorn looked at him with a smile: "Speak, what is it?"

Regulus put down the candied fruit: "Professor, I would like to ask for two days off this weekend."

Slughorn raised an eyebrow: "Taking leave? Where to?"

Regulus replied, "France, some personal business."

Slughorn didn't press further, simply nodding. "Is two days enough?"

That's enough.

Slughorn picked up his quill and wrote on a piece of parchment on the table: "Okay, I approve it. Saturday and Sunday, right?"

Regulus nodded: "Yes, Professor."

Slughorn finished writing, put down his pen, and leaned back in his chair.

He looked at Regulus, his expression becoming somewhat subtle: "By the way, Regulus."

Regulus looked at him.

Slughorn picked up his glass, took a sip, and said casually, "The commotion last night was quite significant."

Regulus looked at him.

Slughorn picked up his glass, took a sip, and said casually, "The commotion last night was quite significant."

He continued, "Minerva, Filius, and Pomona were all alerted. If Minerva hadn't stopped us, we would have all gone to check out the Forbidden Forest."

Regulus's lips twitched.

He knew the professor was reminding him that the professors all knew what he had done last night.

Actually, after returning to his dorm and calming down, he thought of it.

At that time, Dumbledore must have been at the Shrieking Shack.

Now that the professor has said this, it's understandable that it has alarmed the other deans.

But now only the professor mentioned it to him once, in a casual tone, as if it were a trivial matter.

That means that whether it was Li Huo, staying up all night, or going to the Forbidden Forest, the matter is over.

Just be more careful next time and don't make too much noise.

He lowered his gaze and silently added another thought to his mind.

That flight system needs an additional function to eliminate magical fluctuations.

Otherwise, the next time we fly, there will be a lot of people watching us.

Slughorn looked at him and blinked. "That thing, you made it, didn't you?"

Regulus lowered his head and gave a soft "hmm," as if embarrassed.

Slughorn didn't ask for any more details. He took another sip of his drink and said in a relaxed tone, "Be more careful next time, don't make such a fuss."

Regulus looked up and said apologetically, "Professor, I'm sorry to have disturbed your rest last night."

Slughorn waved his hand: "It's alright, it's alright. It's good that young people are energetic, as long as they don't burn down the Forbidden Forest."

"Alright, go ahead, have fun this weekend, and be back in time for class on Monday."