Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

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Baruch remained silent for a long time, opening and closing his chelicerae a few times without making a sound.

Its eight legs were slightly bent, and its center of gravity was lowered, as if it were recalling something, or perhaps trying to organize its thoughts and clarify the strange experience it had just had.

It emitted a series of low, slow clicking sounds, filled with uncertainty.

"Strange... when the light... shone on me... suddenly... buzzed in my head..." Baruch's voice was a bit higher-pitched than Aragog's, but it also had the unique frictional texture of a spider.

"Then... I realized... why are the guys around me so slow? So clumsy? Aragog's father... he's just so-so? I... I can do better... I'm better than them..."

It became more and more confused as it spoke, its chelipeds rubbing together restlessly, and its forelegs tapping haphazardly on the ground.

"But that's not what I thought... I know it wasn't... but it was there... real..."

Baruch continued, "I... I can do better... I'm better than them all... I should be the leader..."

Aragog's massive head turned toward Regulus, its eight eyes filled with shock, confusion, and a deeper gravity.

It didn't understand the magic, nor why a beam of light could make its most intelligent offspring suddenly feel like the best in the world.

But it could tell that Baruch shouldn't have done that; the little wizard in front of it had tampered with Baruch's mind.

Regulus ignored Aragog and looked at Baruch.

Do you still feel that way now?

Baruch shook his body violently, all eight of his legs twitching at the same time, causing the bristles on his carapace to rise and fall like a dog shaking off water.

"It's gone...it's like...having a strange dream...and now I'm awake..."

Regulus nodded in satisfaction, put away his wand, and stepped forward to pat Baruch's outstretched foreleg.

That leg was thicker than his arm, and its carapace was cool and smooth, like touching a black stone that had been washed by the sea for a long time.

He said, "Thank you."

Baruch was too tall, so it lowered its head so that Regulus could pat its back.

The spider's carapace is covered with fine bristles, which feel like a stiff brush to the touch.

There is a shallow groove in the center of the carapace, which extends from the head to the abdomen. The inner carapace is darker and almost bottomless.

Regulus clapped twice.

Baruch made a light click, as if in response; the sound was short and crisp, unlike any of the previous clicks.

But a question popped into his mind.

Spiders can dream?

Is dreaming a privilege of all intelligent beings?

What about the Bowtruckle? Does that thing even have a brain?

Do they have dreams too?

Aragog remained silent for a long time, the light in his compound eyes flickering uncertainly.

Its chelipeds were closed, with the barbs retracted into the inner wall, showing no intention of opening or closing. Its eight legs rested quietly on the ground, motionless.

Regulus looked at it, as if the more intelligent the spider, the better it could convey emotions with its eyes.

He glanced at the spiders around him; some of their eyes were cloudy, as if covered by a layer of gray fog, and he couldn't see anything.

Some are hollow, with a cold light only predators possess.

The ability of someone like Baruch to discern curiosity, confusion, and bewilderment already demonstrates a high level of wisdom.

Most of the others were somewhere between somewhat intelligent and purely instinctive, with a pitifully monotonous light in their eyes.

Aragok slowly spoke: "Your experiment...was a success?"

Regulus nodded: "It's done."

Initial success, but less effective than expected. The arrogance lasted only ten seconds, and its intensity was only enough for Baruch to show off in front of its kind, without truly affecting its judgment.

The duration was short and the impact was minimal; it needs to be changed.

The direction is clear, but the light needs to be more concentrated and not scattered; it needs to be aimed at the pair of compound eyes in the very center.

The emotional sample needs to be purer; arrogance mixed with contempt, and contempt mixed with disdain, is not pure enough.

The transmission process needs to be more efficient; three seconds is too long, and no one will give him three seconds in battle.

Baruch's feedback indicates that the underlying logic is correct.

Light can transmit emotions, and emotions can influence judgment; the brain will treat external thoughts as its own.

However, the current version is still far from being usable on humans.

You have to come, and you have to come often.

Baruch made a light click, with a slightly rising tone at the end.

Regulus sensed the joy in the voice.

This spider was quite happy. After being exposed to the light, its head buzzed for a moment, and it woke up thinking it could become the leader.

Even though I know it's fake, that feeling is probably pretty exciting.

He looked at Aragok: "You said I owe you one. You can bring it up now, or you can think it over before you say it."

Aragog thought for a moment, his compound eyes flashing.

The top pair of eyes were half-open, the middle pairs were rapidly rotating, and the bottom pair stared at Regulus without moving.

"We'll talk about it later."

Regulus nodded casually, "Fine, I'll pay then."

However, as long as it's owed, it still needs to be kept quiet.

The spider must not reveal that he came here and the magic he was experimenting with, not because it is afraid that Aragog will deliberately leak it, it has no reason to do so.

But Hagrid will ask.

Hagrid would come to Aragog every now and then, bringing food and news.

Aragog couldn't lie to Hagrid; it could, but it didn't want to.

Those who have had such relationships know that you have to seal that crack.

"As for the explanation you want," Regulus said, "why I think it's acceptable to do so."

Aragog shook his spider head, and eight eyes stared at him.

Regulus didn't say anything more.

The next moment, orange-red flames surged from his body, flowing across his arms, swirling around his shoulders, and dancing on his fingertips.

Each strand is firmly restrained by will, not a single bit spilling outwards.

The temperature was lowered to the minimum, but the air inside the nest still began to heat up. The spider silk trembled slightly in the heat, its edges curling, but it did not burn.

Aragog suddenly retreated, kicking backward with all eight legs at the same time, its claws carving eight deep grooves in the velvet ground.

Its massive body crashed into several thick spider silk pillars behind it, shaking the entire nest.

The dewdrops on the spider web were shaken off and fell down in a rustling sound, turning into mist in the hot air.

Its fine bristles curled at the tips and emitted a burnt smell.

Flames, the thing the eight-eyed giant spider fears most.

It didn't recognize the Fiery Blaze, but it recognized fear—a fear that surged from its bloodline memories faster than any reason, taking direct control of its body.

The spider's legs were trembling, its pincers were shaking, and even its breathing was disordered.

But it didn't run away; once again, wisdom triumphed over instinct.

The main reason was that it saw that the little wizard, who was engulfed in flames, hadn't even burned a single spider silk beneath his feet.

Not only did it not catch fire, but the edges didn't even curl up.

The spider silk lay quietly at his feet, as if the flames beside him had nothing to do with it.

The surrounding spiders scattered and fled. Some of them, in their panic, bumped into each other, rolled into a ball, their pincers and legs tangled together and unable to be separated.

One of them crashed into a pillar, its face covered in spider silk, and desperately tried to scratch it off with its front legs.

Mossag huddled in the deepest part of the nest, its eight legs curled up and its belly pressed against the ground.

Its compound eyes were tightly closed, and its chelicerae were tucked under its head and thorax, a posture that suggested it was waiting to die.

Baruch didn't run away either. It took a few steps back to steady itself, its eight legs slightly bent and its center of gravity lowered.

His compound eyes stared at Regulus, but there was no fear in them, only some indescribable emotion flowing through them.

Then its gaze drifted towards Aragog for a moment, then quickly returned to its own.

Regulus noticed.

Although the magic effect has faded, the feeling that "I could have done better" may still linger in the spider's heart.

It was looking at Aragog, its father, as if confirming something, or as if denying something.

He turned his gaze away and looked at Aragog.

The orange-red flames retreated into his body and vanished completely in an instant.

The only remaining smells in the nest were the acrid smell of burning silk and the rustling of spider silk shaking violently. The hot air, still carrying the stench of burnt bristles, slowly rose.

Regulus didn't say anything more.

You need to explain, and this is the explanation.

There is no "I think I can do this" here, only "I can do this".

Aragog watched the flames disappear and hesitated to approach. It stood there with its eight legs slightly bent, its center of gravity low, and its chelipeds tightly folded together.

At this moment, it couldn't even find anger; only fear remained.

Regulus's voice was flat, as if nothing had happened: "I hope that no creature other than a spider knows that I'm here tonight."

And this spell is the same.

The young wizard's words didn't sound threatening, but if Aragog couldn't even understand that, then all his intelligence would be wasted.

Aragog's chelicerae opened and closed slightly, his voice still low, but all emotion was gone, as if it had all been burned away by the fire.

It simply said, "No."

Regulus nodded in satisfaction.

Aragok asked cautiously, "That condition?"

Regulus smiled. "I promised. Think it over before you speak."

He added, "I will be back."

Aragok was silent, then asked in a soft, reluctant voice, "Really not going to find the centaurs?"

Regulus didn't respond to that, but gave Baruch one last look: "Baruch is not bad."

After saying that, he disappeared.

Silence returned to the nest, and after a long while, Mosag approached Aragog.

She crawled very slowly, her eight legs taking turns reaching forward, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Its chelicerae touched Aragog's forelegs, emitting a series of hisses filled with worry and doubt.

Aragog gently touched Mosage with its chelicerae, its compound eyes still fixed on the direction Regulus had left. The top pair of large eyes were open, the middle pairs were slightly moving, and the bottom pair remained motionless.

Baruch made clicking sounds nearby, not loud, intermittent, as if he were reminiscing or talking to himself.

Its forelegs tapped lightly on the ground, a haphazard, rhythmic tapping.

Aragog glanced at it, then slowly lay back down on the velvet cushion and closed its largest pair of compound eyes.

The Forbidden Forest returned to silence, with only the faint cries of owls echoing in the distance and the ever-present mist in the hollow.