Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

October 21st, early morning, Hogsmeade.

Regulus walked along the stone path to the edge of the castle grounds, to a small hill.

The surroundings were quiet, with only the occasional sound of the wind and his own footsteps.

The fog was thick, a vast expanse of white, as if it enveloped the entire world.

Only a blurry outline could be seen in the direction of Hogwarts Castle; the towers and corner towers appeared and disappeared in the fog, like phantoms floating in the clouds.

Nothing could be seen in the direction of the Forbidden Forest except for thicker wisps of white mist slowly swirling around.

Regulus stood there and looked at the castle for a while.

The mist is flowing, breaking down and piecing together those familiar outlines, and as I look at it, I get a feeling that I can't quite describe.

It feels like standing on the edge of the world, and if you take another step forward, you will enter another world.

He turned around; it was time to go.

My father included an address in his letter: Wisteria Estate, Luberon Mountains, Provence, France.

The map was drawn rudimentary, but those lines had become a clear address in his mind.

You can Apparate to that point, but you'll have to stop several times.

The straight-line distance from Hogwarts to Provence is approximately 1,000 kilometers.

The limit of Apparition for an ordinary wizard is only a few hundred kilometers. Beyond this distance, the positioning becomes blurred, the space becomes unstable, and one might accidentally lose oneself or even split into two parts.

Through proper channels, cross-border movement requires reporting to the Ministries of Magic of both countries, applying for a Portkey, and going through a series of procedures.

He doesn't have the time, and he's unwilling to put in the patience for it.

More importantly, once he applies to leave the country, things will be fine in France, but the British Ministry of Magic is now heavily infiltrated by Voldemort and is basically riddled with holes.

And he was Voldemort's primary target.

Once the application is submitted, someone will definitely report it to Voldemort, and with a little investigation, they can find out what he went to France for.

That would not only cause trouble for him, but also for Andromeda.

She finally managed to escape that circle, stop being in the spotlight, and live a peaceful life.

If she were to be targeted again or even harmed because of him, that would be something Regulus didn't want to see, and something he couldn't accept.

Therefore, he cannot go abroad through official channels, but the Starry Sky Kite is just right. As long as he has a clear address in his mind, it can take him there.

Regulus took a deep breath, about to summon his guardian spirit, but then he caught a glimpse of a figure in the thick fog.

He turned his head, and there stood a man in a moon-white robe, with a long silver-white beard and crescent-shaped glasses.

Dumbledore stood there, hands behind his back, smiling as he watched them.

The surrounding fog seemed to have deliberately made way for him, making him appear exceptionally clear.

Seeing Regulus turn his head, he raised his hand and waved.

Regulus stood there, somewhat speechless.

He knew, of course, that he was being watched.

It was all done through proper procedures; the dean approved the leave slip, and the principal knew about it—it's perfectly normal.

Given what he has shown over the past year, it would be strange if Dumbledore didn't pay attention to him.

But he didn't expect Dumbledore's people to be there, and they were obviously waiting for him.

This doesn't make people irritable or impatient.

He quite liked being with Dumbledore; the old man always inspired him and pointed him in the right direction from the top down.

The night we chatted outside the Screaming House on the last full moon, he lit up his soul not long after he got back.

The gains from that are far greater than those from practicing a few spells.

But I'm just speechless. I can't explain why, it's just like, oh well, it's happening again.

Regulus Apparated, disappearing from his spot and reappearing beside Dumbledore the next second.

The moment he appeared, the mist around his body was suddenly pushed aside and surged outwards, only to gather back together a few seconds later.

Regulus raised his eyes, looked at Dumbledore, and said calmly, "Professor."

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Good morning, Regulus. It's a nice day."

Regulus glanced at the thick fog around him: "...It's quite nice."

Dumbledore followed his gaze to the mist, his eyes crinkling with laughter: "To France?"

Regulus nodded: "Going to Luberon to visit a relative."

Dumbledore responded with an "Oh," his expression perfectly natural: "What a coincidence, I'm also going to France to visit an old friend, it just so happens to be on my way."

He then said, "If you don't mind, we can go together."

Regulus wanted to complain.

Drop by?

For wizards who possess teleportation abilities, especially those at Dumbledore's level, going anywhere is an instantaneous matter.

He said it was on the way, so even if Regulus was going to the South Pole, it was on the way for him to go to the North Pole; it was just going around the world.

So it's true that it's on the way, but waiting here is definitely not because it's on the way.

A thought flashed through Regulus's mind.

old friend?

France?

If this 'old' is old enough...

The alchemist master who lived for hundreds of years, Nicolas Flamel, seems to be in France. He is probably Dumbledore's old friend.

Regulus's face remained expressionless: "Professor, the old friend you mentioned, it wouldn't happen to be...?"

Dumbledore blinked. "Maybe it's what you're thinking, maybe it isn't."

Regulus's lips twitched.

The Riddler.

Dumbledore asked again, "So? Together?"

What could Regulus say?

Since Dumbledore had said so, he couldn't very well refuse, and he was also genuinely curious to know what kind of program the old man had arranged.

As Regulus was pondering this, another idea popped into his head.

When I asked for leave a few days ago, Professor Slughorn said things like, "There was quite a commotion last night," and "Minerva and the others all know about it."

The professors found out he was playing with fire in the Forbidden Forest.

But Regulus believed that Dumbledore wouldn't think there was anything wrong with him because of this.

Fiendfire is indeed black magic, and it's widely recognized as the most dangerous kind.

The cursed fire possesses its own consciousness and can devour everything; if it goes out of control, even the caster cannot escape.

But that depends on who's looking at it. To Dumbledore, Fiendfire was just so-so.

He could suppress the Fiendfire that Voldemort used, and he had also seen even more powerful flames. Compared to those, the Fiendfire was indeed nothing.

Therefore, Regulus was not worried.

But then he thought about it again. He was only a second-year student, and the fact that Li Huo could use it to this extent did indeed say something.

Since Dumbledore has already seen it, let him see something else to try and correct any distorted impressions.

Regulus had an idea: "Professor, why don't I take you there?"

Dumbledore paused for a moment.

Then his expression became interesting, first surprise, then a look of interest, and finally a bit of embarrassment.

"Regulus," he said carefully, but his eyes suddenly lit up and his beard trembled, "your approach doesn't seem very friendly to the elderly."

Regulus was also taken aback for a moment, then realized that Dumbledore was referring to his Fiery Blaze.

Regulus wanted to laugh to himself. This old man, don't think I didn't see through you actually wanting to experience it.

But that wasn't his original intention. What he wanted to showcase was the Starry Sky Kite, an advanced application of the Guardian God.

His method of traversing space was bright and pure enough that neither raging fire nor black magic could affect him in the slightest.

Before he could explain, Dumbledore had already begun speaking with great interest.

"However, your idea is very interesting: to shape it with the Ironclad Charm, drive it with Fiendfire, and fly it using magic combined with Muggle methods."

But I considered another approach, from the perspective of transfiguration.

Regulus stopped himself from saying what he was about to say.

Transfiguration angle?

Dumbledore continued, "You know, the human body wasn't made for flight. Bones are too brittle, strength too weak, and blood flowing too fast can knock you unconscious. But we can borrow that."

He stretched out his hand and gestured in the fog.

"Borrowing the structure of the fire dragon and the toughness of its bones, the dragon can fly so fast and withstand such strong winds; the bones are the key."

If you could use Transfiguration to fuse that quality into your very bones, even the fastest wind couldn't blow you away.

Regulus's eyes lit up.

"And the Thestrals," Dumbledore said. "You've ridden a Thestral, you know what that feels like."

Thestrals are born with a natural sense of space; if we could borrow that trait...

He looked at Regulus: "Your flying thing doesn't need you to find your way; your body will know where to go."

Regulus was quickly analyzing the situation in his mind.

His previous thoughts were all about physical improvements: power, aerodynamic layout, and structural strength.

Dumbledore skipped over these points and went straight to the biological level.

It's no longer about fighting against physics, but about adapting the body to physics.

"Where is the phoenix?" he asked.

Dumbledore's eyes crinkled with amusement: "What are you thinking about?"

"Recovery ability," Regulus said, "The impact of high-speed flight, even if the skeleton can withstand it, will damage the internal organs."

If one possessed the regenerative abilities of a phoenix, capable of instantly healing from injury, then one could fly indefinitely.

Dumbledore's eyes were full of approval: "And the griffins, with their eyesight, you probably couldn't see anything when you were flying that night, could you?"

Regulus thought about what happened that night.

Indeed, when the speed was too fast, everything in front of him became a blurry light and shadow, and he basically relied on his magical perception to fly.

"If you could borrow the vision of a griffin," Dumbledore said, "you would see clearly, even at a very fast pace."

Regulus was deep in thought.

"Where's the Thunderbird?" he asked again.

Dumbledore laughed: "Your method is brute force, but the Thunderbird's feathers can move with the wind. If you borrow one of those, you won't have to struggle so hard against the air."

As Regulus listened, images of those animals kept flashing through his mind.

Fire dragon, Thestral, Phoenix, Griffin, Thunderbird.

Each one represents a trait; if one could borrow these traits and integrate them into one's body using Transfiguration—

"Can these qualities," he continued, "coexist simultaneously?"

Dumbledore said casually, "Theoretically, it's possible. Composite transformation, human transformation, combining the traits of different animals together. The difficulty lies in making them not conflict."

The dragon's ferocity, the Thestral's solitude, the phoenix's transcendence, the griffin's pride, and the thunderbird's freedom—these traits are instinctive.

When you borrow, your instincts kick in too.

Regulus thought for a moment: "Suppress it with willpower?"

Dumbledore shook his head: "It's not about suppressing them, it's about integrating them, making them a part of you, just like how you tamed Fiendfire. It's not about suppressing it, it's about making it willing to listen to you."

Regulus seemed to be deep in thought.

The two stood there in the thick fog, chatting back and forth.

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