Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Sunday noon, at the auditorium restaurant.

The four long tables were filled with people, their voices mingling together, but the sounds from each college were different.

The Gryffindor side was the noisiest. Someone stood up and reached across the table for the roast meat in the distance. Someone laughed loudly. Someone knocked over a cup, spilling pumpkin juice all over the table. The boy next to him wiped it up while cursing.

Hufflepuff is a different kind of lively place, not as sharp, but denser, with a bunch of people crammed together, each saying their own thing, making it hard to tell who's talking and who's listening.

Ravenclaws were much quieter, chatting in small groups, their voices low. They seemed focused only on their own affairs and didn't care much about anything else.

The Slytherin table is different; it's lively here too, but the liveliness is more restrained.

The speaker's voice was not loud, his posture was upright, his robe was wrinkle-free, and the collar was buttoned up properly.

The younger students ate their meals properly, without making a sound with their knives and forks, while the older students' area was more like a small social gathering.

Several sixth-grade boys leaned back in their chairs, holding pumpkin juice in their hands as if they were holding wine glasses.

They were talking about the Ministry of Magic's recent developments, saying that the Department of Law Enforcement had changed personnel again, and that there was a vacancy in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, which a certain family had applied for.

Several girls nearby listened attentively, occasionally chiming in with a comment that wasn't just idle chatter but rather focused on current events and contained meaningful information.

Someone mentioned that the family had recently discussed a collaboration with someone, speaking casually, as if it were just a nice day.

Another person took over and said that the family was doing well recently, so they could visit them more often.

The topic shifted quickly, from personnel to marriage alliances, from industry to proposals from the Ministry of Magic.

Everyone is talking, everyone is listening, everyone is weighing the value of this sentence and this person.

Regulus sat in the middle of the second-year section, with half a plate of grilled fish and a few potatoes in front of him.

He glanced at the older students, then lowered his head and continued cutting potatoes.

They imitate what they see; they become like the adults in their family.

My father talked to people like this in his study, and my mother talked to the ladies at tea parties like this.

When you pick up a cup, do it slowly and put it down gently. Don't speak too definitively, but make sure the other person understands your meaning.

You can learn this stuff by watching it from childhood to adulthood; you don't need to be taught it deliberately, you'll learn it just by watching.

It's not so bad, most Slytherin graduates will end up working in these kinds of places.

Wearing custom-made ceremonial robes, they move between banquet halls and conference rooms, exchanging benefits, favors, and even marriages with others also wearing custom-made robes.

Wizarding society is inherently closed and small, and the Slytherin group seems to have carved out an even smaller territory within this already small society.

They use etiquette, background, resources, and status to confine themselves within a self-imposed barrier, preventing outsiders from entering and preventing them from leaving.

But what they possess also prevents them from detaching themselves from the larger society outside, because they are at the core of that society.

Regulus forked a piece of potato and put it in his mouth.

He wasn't criticizing anything; this thing has existed for hundreds of years, so it must have its reasons for existing.

A ruling circle that relies on bloodlines and family ties would have fallen apart long ago if it didn't operate this way.

He was also part of it, a pureblood core member, and the Black family was the creator and beneficiary of this order.

But if you stay in this order for too long, you can easily mistake the order itself for power.

You think that being in this position makes you a strong person, and that others are polite to you because you deserve it.

Few people consider that others are polite to you because the wall behind you is still there.

But Regulus knew that in a few years, Voldemort would crush all of this.

Those who sit at the end of the long table, holding wine glasses and discussing marriage alliances, collaborations, and the future of their families, will kneel before him, kiss the hem of his robe, and call him master.

They would still wear custom-made robes and speak in that reserved tone, but everyone knew what it meant.

That will no longer be dignified, but only fear.

Voldemort doesn't negotiate, doesn't give face, and won't stop someone just because they are the heir of a certain family.

He wants people to kneel, so no one can sit.

These things are not so useful now, and in a few years, they will be completely useless.

Therefore, power is everything.

Regulus put down his cup.

Just then, two figures walked in from the end of the Slytherin table.

Samuel Vance, Lena Costa.

No one gave them a second glance; that indifference was natural, just like no one would specifically notice whether the chair in the corner was still there today.

They were used to it, so they walked in with their heads down, trying to find a seat on the edge.

Then they saw Regulus.

He sat in the middle of the second-year section, with two empty seats next to him. Alex sat to his left, and Avery and Hermes sat opposite him.

Samuel paused for a moment, and Lina paused as well. They exchanged a glance and then walked in that direction.

People on both sides of the long table looked up, not intentionally, but just out of the corner of their eye when someone passed by.

Then I saw the two half-bloods walking towards the center, to the very heart of the Slytherin table.

The conversations among the older students quieted down; some people's hands, holding wine glasses, froze in mid-air; some turned to the side; and some simply raised their eyes.

The mixed-race students from other grades at the edge of the long table also looked over, their expressions inscrutable.

A week ago in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Black had assigned Cuthbert and Rozier to team up with these two, and word got around, but nobody paid any attention.

What happened in class was just a one-time thing and doesn't prove anything.

But it was Sunday lunchtime, a time when everyone was there, and these two younger mixed-race students took the initiative to approach Blake.

Slytherins aren't entirely without fun and games. When the weather is nice, they'll play around by the Black Lake, have picnics under shady trees, and argue for ten minutes over a pair of Explosive Cards.

But there are some things they are always sensitive about.

Pure-blood, half-blood, status, faction division—these terms might just be words in other houses, but in Slytherin they always carry meaning.

Even the smallest thing, which may be unintentional, can be interpreted in various ways and ultimately lead to the conclusion that everyone wants.

Moreover, that was Regulus, who was engrossed in Chapter 243 of the novel, "Do I Avoid Her Edge?", completely absorbed in the story. The heir to the Black family, the top student since his first year, someone who commanded respect from upperclassmen in the hallways.

Such a person, if he just opens the door, will instantly draw more than half of the Slytherin members to his side, to listen to him speak, and to follow his instructions.

But he didn't. He only acted with a few roommates, didn't form cliques, didn't express opinions, and didn't play the game of college politics.

Therefore, there have been many speculations about him, but none of them have come to fruition.

Now, two mixed-race people came to his side.

Regulus swallowed the food in his mouth, put down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

His movements were neither fast nor slow, just like when he ate, and then he looked up.

Samuel and Lena stood before him, their robes standard school uniform style, made of ordinary fabric, but they fit well and were warm enough for the weather.

Neither of them was short, and there was no such thing as malnutrition at Hogwarts.

There was something in their eyes—anxiety, nervousness, and excitement.

But the two people behaved differently.

Lina stood even straighter, her chin slightly raised, her eyes bright, as if waiting for a signal.

Samuel stood straight, but his posture was somewhat hunched, and his brows were furrowed slightly, making him look nervous.

Regulus could tell at a glance that it was an act; he was actually calmer than Lina.

Lena's excitement was genuine, while Samuel's nervousness was feigned; what he was truly doing was observing.

Regulus found it amusing and didn't intend to expose it.

He had a very clear impression of the two people.

Lena is quick-witted, direct, and makes decisions quickly and without hesitation. Last time she went to call Slughorn, she set off as soon as she heard the message, while Samuel was still thinking about it.

She looks sharp, but she's tougher inside than she appears.

Samuel was low-key, cautious, slow to make decisions, and appeared nervous, but was actually calm and clear-headed.

If given the same resources and conditions as those born with pure blood, they would probably do better than many others.

But thinking like that is pointless; people who are born with those traits might not have that kind of personality.

Such a person is usable, but needs further adjustment and training; as they are now, they are not good enough.

Regulus snapped out of his thoughts and said calmly, "Sit down and eat first."

Lena sat down next to Alex quickly, and after sitting down, she didn't look up again, only eating the plate in front of her.

Food that is far away from her is not enough if she can't reach it, so she won't reach for it.

Samuel was a beat slow. He glanced at Lena, then at Regulus, before taking a step forward and sitting down next to Lena.

Then he lowered his head and ate without saying a word.

Regulus certainly didn't do it casually.

During the first-grade summer vacation, when Bella came to Grimoire Square to deliver a dark enlightenment, she said something before leaving: "Sometimes, too much protection can make determination not sharp enough."

She pointed out his role in sheltering Samuel Vance and Lena Costa at Hogwarts.

Even earlier, when he received Bella's letter in his first year, he knew that Voldemort was watching him.

This kind of attention will inevitably be accompanied by continuous surveillance, probing, and pressure regarding stance.

But Regulus didn't believe that the warning was Voldemort's own statement.

It's only natural that Voldemort would pay attention to him.

But to say that Voldemort personally warned a first-year wizard about protecting two half-bloods would be beneath him.

Who is Voldemort?

Would he care whether the two half-blood wizards were bullied or protected at Hogwarts?

Would they care if the Black family heir recruited two mixed-race children as followers at school?

His vision wouldn't be so low; he wouldn't even see something like that.

Sometimes, Voldemort himself might not have been as extreme as Bellatrix.

Some things that Voldemort might consider insignificant or even invisible could be of paramount importance to Bellatrix.

After all, that was her master.

Everything her master does is important, and even things he doesn't do that she deems important are also important.

In Regulus's memory, the current Voldemort was not the Voldemort who would let out a giegiegie laugh at the Easter dinner.

He's the quieter type; he doesn't need to speak loudly or make exaggerated movements, but just seeing him makes you feel scared.

Darkness, fear, cruelty, oppression.

It's the kind of terror that makes you want to back away just by having it sit there.

Therefore, Regulus was not provoking Voldemort.

He's not qualified to provoke Voldemort yet, but he can do it to Bellatrix.

So I took them in.

I heard what you said last time, but I still did it anyway.

I'm only after you.

Bella, after all, came from the Black family. She married Lestrange, but she was still a Black.

If this matter is to be investigated, it should first be considered an internal matter of the Blake family.

The matter between the older and younger cousins ​​is not a matter between the core members of the Death Eaters and the heirs of the Black family.

Bella herself has to admit this, otherwise she would have to cut off her Blake part, but she can't cut it off; it's her pride.

But none of that matters. What matters is that lighting up Rigel requires showing its brilliance.

I can't show it to Voldemort, at least not now, but Bella is a good match, she's the perfect size.

Bellatrix was the absolute core of the Death Eaters and one of Voldemort's most trusted confidantes.

If you clash with her and stir up trouble, Voldemort will find out, but he probably won't feel offended.

More likely, they think the child is interesting, has a temper, and has his own ideas, which is better than being submissive.

Regulus put down his knife and fork.

Samuel and Lena had finished eating and were sitting there waiting.

He glanced at them, his tone as flat as ever: "At two o'clock this afternoon, go to the library and help me find a book."

Lina nodded, and Samuel nodded as well.

Regulus stood up, and Avery, Alex, and Hermes rose at the same time, with Lina and Samuel quickly following suit.

Behind me, the conversation at the Slytherin table was a bit more frequent than before.