Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

"Hogwarts: Regulus, Lord of the Stars" is currently being serialized on Cola Novels and is not to be missed!

Dumbledore leaned back on the sofa, listening to their conversation.

Regulus's first question, about the conversion between magic and matter, seemed very basic to him.

That's something that's even in Hogwarts' textbooks, mentioned in sixth-year advanced Transfiguration or seventh-year Potions theory.

Magic can be used as a medium to change matter, and matter absorbs magic during the transformation process; this is the basic principle of alchemy.

He didn't know what the point of Regulus's question was.

Perhaps it was just a casual question.

This child's understanding of alchemy may indeed be limited, which is understandable, given that he is only twelve years old.

But Dumbledore thought about it again and realized that something was wrong.

Regulus wasn't the type to ask questions casually; every question he asked had a deeper meaning behind it.

Magic and matter can be transformed into each other.

What can be derived from this conclusion if we combine it with the child's understanding of spatial magic or natural magic?

Dumbledore couldn't imagine it.

Young people's minds are indeed very active.

But the second question caught his attention.

soul?

Dumbledore's eyebrows twitched.

He looked at Regulus, then at Nico, shifted slightly, rested his right arm on the sofa, propped his chin on his hand, and listened intently.

Nicolas Flamel remained silent for a moment after hearing Regulus's question.

The firelight from the fireplace danced on his face, and his light gray eyes looked at Regulus with an indescribable emotion.

He repeated the question: "Is the soul matter?"

He said in a meaningful tone, "Alchemy has studied this problem for six hundred years, and there is still no standard answer, but I can tell you my perspective."

Regulus listened intently.

Nico continued, "From an alchemical perspective, I treat it as matter."

He reached out his hand and made a loose grasping motion in the air.

"It doesn't take up any space, and it can't even be touched, but I can only do something with it if I treat it as a material."

The essence of alchemy is to do something to matter, to change it, transform it, and reshape it.

If I don't treat it as a material thing, I won't know where to begin.

He smiled. "When you used your magical senses to probe me just now, I felt you watching me. Do you know how I found out?"

Regulus thought for a moment: "Because of fluctuations in magical perception?"

Nicole shook her head: "No."

Regulus then said, "Is it because you are too powerful? Or because your senses are more acute than mine?"

Nicole shook her head again: "That's not right either."

Regulus asked hesitantly, "Is that... an intuition formed over hundreds of years?"

Nicole laughed and waved her hand: "None of them are correct."

Regulus stopped guessing, but a word vaguely popped into his mind.

Observation.

It's possible that it wasn't his magical perception that was discovered, but rather the act of observation itself that was observed by the observed.

Just as he was looking at the little soul, that little soul was also looking at him.

He didn't say it aloud, waiting for Nico to explain it to him.

Nico's smile deepened: "Actually, it's nothing profound. It's just that you're looking at me, and I know that."

The words were spoken bluntly, but Regulus understood them.

Nico leaned closer, lowering his voice with an air of mystery, as if he were keeping it from Dumbledore: "But I sense that your perception isn't just magical, is it?"

He blinked. "You can see it now, right?"

Regulus's heart skipped a beat.

Was it just that one moment of magical perception that led to his discovery?

really.

An old wizard who has lived for six hundred years is indeed extraordinary.

But it's not surprising that Lemaître discovered it.

Six hundred years is enough time for a wizard to become extremely sensitive to being observed.

Moreover, Lemaître's words confirmed his earlier guess.

Observation itself is an interaction.

Looking at that little figure every day is a way of confirming its existence; each glance could be an interaction.

Those interactions, when accumulated, allow him to deepen his connection with his soul.

This is what Lemaître meant when he said, "You're watching me, and I know that."

His guess was correct; the observation and being observed are never one-way.

Regulus processed all of this in his mind.

Nico looked at him, then at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore remained in that position, his expression unchanged, but a hint of realization flashed in his eyes. He didn't interrupt, just listened.

Nico looked away and continued looking at Regulus: "You can already see it, which means it's there. This is the starting point."

Regulus straightened his expression: "Mr. Lemaître is right."

Nico smiled and gave Dumbledore a smug look.

Regulus noticed this little gesture and found it amusing.

The way these two old men get along is quite interesting.

Nico continued, "But seeing something doesn't mean you can keep it."

He stopped smiling and became more serious: "The soul is a light and fleeting thing, easily scattered. You need to find an anchor for it so that it can settle down."

He stretched out his hand and made a grasping motion: "In alchemy, you need a core to refine anything before crystallization can grow, and the same goes for a soul."

Without a core, it's just a wisp of fog, easily dispersed by the wind; with a core, it can solidify and grow.

He looked at Regulus: "What is your anchor point?"

I don't know, it could be something you're holding onto, someone you can't let go of, or the thoughts that circulate in your mind every night.

But there must be, otherwise you would have broken up long ago.

Regulus seemed to be deep in thought.

What is his anchor point?

What he insisted on was his desire to go out and see what lies behind the stars, to know what else exists beyond this world.

That was a thought that started when I was very young, and it has always been in my heart, never fading away.

That idea was bigger than any specific goal, bigger than everything else.

His mind was filled with thoughts of understanding magic, exploring the world, and contemplating the rules.

Those incantations pondered every night in the Room of Response, those stars seen in star trail meditation, those possibilities imagined in the little soul.

As for those you can't let go of?

Regulus skipped over it; he was only twelve and didn't care.

These are anchors, things that hold his soul in place.

Lemaître is right.

Regulus then asked, "Mr. Lemaître, can the soul grow stronger?"

A hint of satisfaction flashed in Nico's eyes: "Of course, alchemy requires magic to transform matter, but what does the soul consume?"

It eats your experiences, the choices you make, and the things you stubbornly refuse to let go of.

He continued, "Albus said you have a guardian spirit, but have you ever thought about why your guardian spirit is so bright?"

Regulus tilted his head slightly, his eyes filled with doubt.

Because I am kind?

"Because there is light in your heart, that is your soul feeding; it is eating the things that make you shine."

Regulus quickly pondered Lemaître's words.

The brighter the guardian spirit, the better the soul is fed. Therefore, the guardian spirit is an indicator of the soul's appetite.

Those happy memories, those touching moments, those things he was willing to protect—they were all food.

But Regulus then thought of another problem.

What Lemaître said can be taken as the standard answer, but is it the only answer?

If the guardian deity is positive, then what about the thing that is completely opposite to the guardian deity?

If those dark, destructive things that bring about the collapse of order can also nourish the soul, what does that tell us?

If souls could also eat those things—

What would happen if those moments of anger, those surges of murderous intent, those ruthless commands to destroy could also become nourishment?

Will you be swallowed by darkness, or will you devour darkness and make it a part of yourself?

If the guardian spirits are consumed, then dark magic will consume darkness.

What will happen to their souls if they eat together?

Creation and destruction can be a cycle, but must light and darkness necessarily be opposites?

Regulus pondered these things, lost in thought, but he couldn't come up with an answer.

But he felt that this was a question worth considering.

Nico didn't rush to speak, she just looked at him.

Dumbledore didn't say anything, he just looked Regulus up and down, but he was thinking about something else.

This child can actually see souls, and is even thinking about how to make them stronger?

A hint of surprise welled up in Dumbledore's heart.

Being able to see the soul is not something that can be achieved simply by having good talent; it requires a deep understanding of oneself and a far-reaching exploration of one's inner self.

Most wizards never even get close to this door in their entire lives, but Regulus did it in his second year.

But then Dumbledore laughed again, remembering the words he had spoken to Regulus outside the Screaming Shack on that full moon night in September.

Looking at Regulus deep in thought, he knew that the boy had taken it to heart and was moving forward.

His eyes were full of admiration.

Nicole watched too, her eyes showing the same expression.

After a while, Regulus came to his senses.

He noticed the two old men were looking at him, so he gave a slight bow and said, "Sorry, I was daydreaming."

Nico waved his hand: "It's nothing, have you figured it out?"

Regulus thought for a moment: "I understand some things, but I'm still thinking about others."

Nico nodded in satisfaction: "That's right. Those who can figure things out at once are often wrong."

He smiled and said, "So these three things are interconnected. The fact that you can see it means it exists; the fact that you can anchor it means you have an anchor; and the fact that you can nurture it means you know what to feed it."

He stretched out his hand and made a three-pointing gesture.

"See, anchor, feed, all three are essential. You're already doing it, but you don't realize that this is alchemy."

Regulus murmured these three words to himself; they were indeed one.

The clearer the view, the more stable the anchor.

The more secure the anchor, the more it can eat.

The more you eat, the clearer you see.

A cycle.

Since that's the case, we can't just passively experience things; we have to actively choose them.

Actively choose things that can strengthen the anchor point.

Actively nourish your soul.

This doesn't seem to conflict with the direction in which Betelgeuse is lit.

Exerting influence on the outside world is itself part of the experience.

The deeper the experience, the more the soul nourishes itself; the more it nourishes, the more firmly it anchors; the more firmly it anchors, the greater the likelihood that Betelgeuse will light up.

Exerting influence on the outside world is itself part of the experience.

The deeper the experience, the more the soul nourishes itself; the more it nourishes, the more firmly it anchors; the more firmly it anchors, the greater the likelihood that Betelgeuse will light up.

They don't conflict; in fact, they complement each other.

Regulus sorted these things out in his mind.

Nico looked at him and said, "After living for six hundred years, I've learned one thing."

Some problems don't require a prior answer before you can solve them. You can start by doing them, and the answer will gradually emerge.

Regulus said gratefully, "Thank you, Mr. Lemaître."

Nico waved his hand: "You're welcome. It's because you asked a good question that my answer was interesting."

He glanced at Dumbledore: "Much better than all your pointless questions."

Dumbledore smiled and didn't refute.