Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

At dawn, at the Astronomical Tower.

The clouds were thin, the moon hung in the center, and the light shone down, making the stone bricks on the top of the tower appear white.

The Black Lake lies in the distance, its surface rippling gently, bathed in moonlight that drifts back and forth with the wind.

The Forbidden Forest was shrouded in night, its edges blurred, leaving only a dark outline.

Regulus stood where Dumbledore had landed him last time, his feet resting on the same stone slab.

Dumbledore said that when they got back, they could try to get the Patronus to move around the castle; it should work.

He remembered it, but never tried it.

Most of my energy has been spent on light magic, going to the Forbidden Forest to conduct experiments with Baruch, and then coming back to figure out how to focus light and encapsulate information. It's been dragging on until now.

Now that the Light Source Magic has achieved some initial success, I plan to go find that Intelligent Spider to try something new, but before I go, I need to take care of this matter first.

He took a deep breath; the night wind blew into his lungs from the tower's battlements—cold, but not biting.

In November, Hogwarts wasn't at its coldest yet; the wind carried a dry, cool chill that made robes cling to one's legs.

Silvery light surged from his chest, spreading across the night sky. Starlight condensed into outlines, first a wing, then a head, and finally another wing.

The starry kite fully unfolded, its feathers shining brightly one by one, their edges tinged with a delicate silver glow, gleaming softly in the night.

It landed on his shoulder, shook its wings, and silver light rippled from the tips of its feathers all the way to its tail feathers. It tilted its head to look at him, then flapped its wings and flew up, circling around his head once.

It let out a cry, clear and resonant, which lingered on the empty tower before being dispersed by the wind.

It was happy, Regulus could sense it; it wasn't some complicated emotion, just that it felt good to be out for some fresh air.

He looked up at the circling bird, raised his chin, and nodded towards the castle: "Give it a try."

The starry kite flew towards the castle.

It slid down at an angle, its wings half-folded, its speed increasing. Then it tightened its wings, straightened its body, and silver light condensed into a line on its body.

The light stretched forward, as if trying to carve a path through the air.

But the passage was not open.

The space tightened before it, and the air became thick and hard.

It couldn't stop itself and crashed headlong into the ground. The force surged in from all directions, grabbed it, and then pushed it back.

It rolled over, steadied itself, and tried again, this time in a different direction, and went even faster.

When I reached the same spot, that force came again, and I gripped it and pushed it back.

It changed its location—high altitude, low altitude, side of the castle—but the result was the same: every time it reached that unseen boundary, the space tightened, pushing it back.

It hovered in mid-air, wings outstretched, as if wondering where else it could go.

After thinking for a while, he tried again, this time even faster. The silver light exploded, and his entire body transformed into a beam of white light that shot forward.

The force came even stronger, gripped tighter, and pushed farther, sending it flying. It tumbled twice in the air before stabilizing.

It flew back to Regulus, landed on his shoulder, and tilted its head toward his neck.

Regulus reached out and touched its wing.

Flying is no problem.

It circles, dives, and climbs on the top of the tower, flying however it wants, but when it needs to move forward, the space tightens.

Space itself is rejecting it.

Regulus gazed in the direction of the castle, lost in thought.

When Dumbledore said that, he assumed the old man had granted him the authority in his capacity as headmaster, or that Starry Kite itself could do it without being restricted by the Castle's Anti-Apparition Charm.

The attempt failed, ruling out the old man's attempt to amuse him.

Dumbledore can be quite amusing at times. He'll say something with a mischievous smile that leaves you pondering for ages, then walk away with his hands behind his back, leaving you completely baffled.

He wasn't the kind of old-fashioned person who put on airs; he was curious about new things and enjoyed watching people's confused yet enlightened expressions.

He had a curiosity that was completely out of character for his age, like he wanted to try everything, found everything interesting, and his eyes would light up when he saw something new.

But Dumbledore wasn't just that kind of old man; he was also the greatest white wizard of the century and the headmaster of Hogwarts.

When he has a clear guiding intention, he won't talk nonsense or make a joke that should work, just to see him make a wasted trip.

So that statement wasn't a joke; it was guidance, a form of instruction, just in the same way as always: not saying everything outright, but giving a direction and letting him find his own way.

This old man is a riddle teller.

Regulus's lips twitched slightly.

But he did like this approach; the process of figuring things out for himself was much more interesting than being given the answer directly.

What did Dumbledore want him to understand?

Regulus looked at the starry kite on his shoulder.

The silver light faded a bit, and it tucked its head under its wings, leaving only its pointed beak showing.

It felt a little aggrieved after being bounced back a few times.

It roughly means that I could have, but it wouldn't let me.

The starry kite traverses space by invitation.

When it unfolds the passage, it's more like finding a path that was already there in the space, and then asking the space to cooperate in making that path appear.

Its relationship with space is one of cooperation and resonance, but never coercion.

This is its talent, and it is also his talent. They are one; what it cannot do, he cannot do either.

But outside the castle, in Hogsmeade, in Germany, it clearly could.

Regulus recalled his previous attempts to integrate his Guardian Will into the Hogwarts space, which he had tried many times but failed each time.

At the time, he thought it was because his method was wrong or his will was not strong enough. Now, looking at the two things together, there is another explanation.

The space at Hogwarts is not suitable.

This is not a technical issue; it's an attitude issue.

Starry Sky Kite's invitation was rejected, and so was his will to protect.

This is no coincidence. The castle's space has its own will, and if it disagrees, Starry Sky Kite cannot enter.

Regulus looked down at the stone slabs beneath his feet, then looked up at the outline of the castle.

The idea that Hogwarts is alive wasn't new, but he'd previously used it as a figure of speech.

The stairs will change direction by themselves, the doors will decide whether to open or not, and the rooms will move around by themselves.

This is all magic, a setup left behind by the founder.

But what if these aren't just magic?

What if these things are part of the castle itself, and how it lives?

Click to begin your wondrous journey in Hogwarts: Regulus, Lord of the Stars.

A thousand-year-old castle, a thousand-year-old magic, a thousand-year-old wizards—these things have left their mark on it, giving it its own habits, its own judgments, and its own temperament.

When it doesn't want people to enter, the stairs will turn twice as many times, the doors will be locked, and the corridor will become twice as long as usual.

Thinking about it this way, it makes sense that the Starry Sky Kite was bounced back.

It's not that it's not fast enough, nor that it's not strong enough, but that the castle is saying NO!

What did Dumbledore want him to try?

Regulus continued thinking along these lines.

Is it to let him know that the castle is alive?

He now knew that the castle had its own will and judgment, and whether his magic would work depended on its agreement.

Or do you want him to establish a relationship with the castle?

The kite's flight through the starry sky is an invitation, while the integration of the will to protect is something deeper. If the castle doesn't agree, neither of these things can be accomplished.

But what if one day it nods in agreement?

That means it's not just about being able to travel through time; it could mean the castle has accepted him and is willing to incorporate his magic into its system.

Regulus's gaze fell on the void, and a few words raced through his mind: protection, Hogwarts is alive, Starry Sky Kite's invitation to space, cooperative relationship.

They were placed together, pointing to something he couldn't yet grasp.

He couldn't figure it out.

If you can't figure it out, don't think about it for now, but you can try it often.

Partnerships don't happen overnight; you have to be sincere and make a few more attempts to show the other party that you're a decent person with patience.

Maybe one day the castle will think, "This guy is alright, come in."

Regulus snapped out of his thoughts.

"Alright," he said to the bird on his shoulder, "that's enough for today."

The starry kite folded its wings and landed back on his chest, its silver light fading away.

He looked toward the principal's office, on the top floor of the castle, toward the west tower, where the windows were still lit.

I wonder what that old man is doing, still not asleep at this hour.

Regulus stopped looking, stepped out from the crenellation, his body slumped down, and the wind blew up from below, making his robes flip up.

He steadied himself and flew slowly towards the Forbidden Forest.

The clouds drifted slowly overhead, moonlight occasionally peeked through, the castle receded further and further behind, and the lights in the windows shrank into tiny dots.

He drifted in the wind, feeling comfortable.

Principal's Office.

Dumbledore stood by the window, wearing a deep purple nightgown embroidered with silver stars, his hair and beard disheveled.

He glanced at the figure drifting towards the Forbidden Forest in the distance and smiled: "Going to the Forbidden Forest again."

On the shelf next to it, Fox poked its head out from under its wing, its golden feathers shimmering in the fireplace firelight.

It tilted its head and glanced at Dumbledore, then followed his gaze to the window.

"Don't worry, he'll come to you," Dumbledore said gently. "You'll have to be patient. Sometimes the boy gets busy and loses track of time."

Fox called out, as if in response, but sounded somewhat indifferent.

"Don't be like this when he arrives," Dumbledore shook his head.

Fox tilted his head, twitched his wing, then folded it back up, burying his head in his feathers, leaving only one eye sticking out as he stared at him.

Dumbledore looked at it, laughed, and turned to walk toward the center of the room.

Some of the portraits on the wall were dozing off, while others were chatting quietly in their respective frames. A few of them turned their heads away as he approached, pretending not to notice.

"Are you messing with that Black kid again?" a shrill voice came from the right.

Delis de Winter leans against the frame, holding an open book in her hand, her eyes looking over the top of the pages.

Dumbledore didn't answer, he just smiled.

"You made him fly around the astronomical tower in the middle of the night just to see if he could walk through walls?"

Another voice broke in, tinged with disdain. It was Everard Cragg, the third headmaster of Hogwarts, with gray hair and a serious expression.

"He needs to know where the wall is," Dumbledore said casually.

"He knows where the wall is?" Kragg's tone became more serious. "So he knows?"

"Soon."

Kragg looked at him for a while, shook his head, and said nothing more.

In the top portrait, Phineas Nigellus Black sits up straight from his chair, wearing a green robe and a perfectly tied silver bow tie.

His gaze fell on Dumbledore: "Are you really sure?"

The office quieted down. Devonte put down his book, Cragg looked up, and even the few people who had been dozing next to him opened their eyes.

Dumbledore picked up his hot cocoa, took a sip, and didn't answer immediately.

"A thousand-year-old castle," Phineas said. "Albus, do you really think that child—"

He paused, then asked again, "Have you thought it through?"

The old man in the top hat immediately chimed in, his tone clearly sarcastic: "Phineas, don't think that just because his surname is Black, you—"

Phineas ignored him, his gaze fixed on Dumbledore.

A principal sitting in a corner picture frame scoffed: "He's from your Black family, of course you'd want him to accept."

Phineas ignored him and only looked at Dumbledore.

"A Patronus is a reflection of the soul," Dumbledore said, his voice softening. "His Patronus is the Starry Sky Kite. You know what kind of bird that is; I've seen it."

That wasn't something that was disciplined; it was simply his own.

Phineas pressed his finger against the edge of the frame, but he was a painting, and nothing could be pressed out.

He was silent for a moment, and finally said only one sentence: "There's still plenty of time."

"Yes, there's still plenty of time," Dumbledore said, setting down his cup. His tone was gentle, but his gaze was distant. "The castle will choose itself."

Phineas stared at him for a long time, a deep emotion churning in his eyes, which bore a resemblance to Regulus's.

Dumbledore didn't say anything more. He walked back to the window, put his hand on the windowsill, and looked outside.

Beyond the Forbidden Forest, the treetops were shrouded in darkness, so dark that nothing could be seen, but the child was somewhere within them.

The castle's stone walls stand silently in the night wind, unchanged for a thousand years.

Fox flew off the shelf and landed on his shoulder.

"It chose," Dumbledore said softly, "that's all."

"Hogwarts' Regulus: Lord of the Stars" - Stunning writing and a captivating plot!