Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

"There's nothing wrong with that," Regulus continued. "Many skilled wizards also summon their guardian spirits through memories. Their memories are strong enough to sustain everything."

Lily blinked her green eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. She thought Regulus was going to deny her previous training methods.

"But there is another way."

Regulus looked at her, his gray eyes appearing deeper in the dim light.

"Not by reminiscing about the past, but by yearning for the future."

Lily's mouth was slightly open, and her green eyes were fixed on him.

Regulus slowed his speech: "Places you haven't been to, people you haven't become, landscapes you haven't seen—let these things pull you forward."

He continued, "Memory is backward, longing is forward."

Lily didn't speak, she just stood there, her eyes fixed on Regulus's face.

Regulus's voice rang out again, tinged with amusement: "Which one do you want to choose?"

Lily opened her mouth, wanting to answer, but found herself unable to speak, unsure how to respond.

She has happy memories: the day she received her Hogwarts acceptance letter, the afternoon when she used her wand for the first time, and when Professor Slughorn praised her potion-making talent.

She had tried all of these, and they worked; they emitted a silvery light.

But longing?

What does she yearn for?

She wanted to become powerful, to learn more magic, and to teach those who bullied her a lesson.

But are these considered desires?

Or is it just a 'want'?

What's the difference between longing and wanting?

Her mind raced faster and faster, but it became increasingly tangled, like a ball of yarn that she couldn't untangle.

Lily recalled all the preparations she had made during this time.

She not only asked Professor McGonagall, but she also went to the library and looked up three books about Patronus Charms.

One book contains chapters from an advanced spellbook, another is a special topic in "The Guide to Advanced Defense Magic," and the third is about the history and records of guardian deities.

She even approached Helena Thornton, a seventh-year student who was the only Gryffindor student who could summon a complete Patronus, a hound.

She asked Helena how she did it, and Helena said that she just thought about the happiest things, thought about them as hard as she could, until her heart was filled with that feeling, and then she chanted a spell.

Lily asked her what she was thinking about, and Helena smiled and said it was the summer when she and her sister used to chase fireflies in the garden when they were little.

Everyone said the same thing: happiness, memories, trying hard, chanting mantras.

No one has ever spoken of longing, but Regulus has.

She believed him.

There's no need for a reason, or rather, there are too many reasons, so many that she's too lazy to count them all.

From second grade until now, every word Regulus has said to her, everything he has taught her, and every piece of advice he has given her has never been wrong.

Regulus said there was another way, and that was that there really was.

She couldn't figure it out, but that didn't matter; she could ask.

The person I can ask is right in front of me.

Lily looked up at Regulus, her green eyes filled with a hint of confusion, but even more so with trust.

"How do I find what I crave?" she asked earnestly. "It's... what you're talking about, the kind that can pull people forward."

Regulus looked at her and shook his head: "I can't tell you that."

Lily pouted her lips forward, her eyebrows furrowing in frustration and defiance: "I just couldn't think of that myself."

As she spoke, she leaned slightly toward him, and her voice softened, as if she felt that if she got closer, the answer would drift over from him.

Regulus smiled, the corners of his mouth curving a little wider than usual.

"That's right, you shouldn't think of it," he said. "If you could think of it right away, it wouldn't be a desire, it would be a wish."

Lily glared at him, but then deflated, because he had a point.

Regulus softened his tone: "Summoning a guardian is actually a dialogue with oneself."

He looked into Lily's eyes: "Ask yourself what you really want. You don't need anyone else to tell you; it should be something that grows from within yourself."

Lily listened without saying a word, her expression changing from distress to seriousness.

“This can’t be rushed,” Regulus said. “Some people know what they want very early on, while others have to travel a long way to see it clearly, but as long as you’re looking for it, it will come out.”

Lily repeated these words in her mind and slowly nodded.

Then she tilted her head and asked a question Regulus hadn't expected: "You said last time you'd teach me about the Patronus, was it because you'd need it later, not because of the Dementors?"

Not entirely.

"Then why?"

Regulus thought for a moment: "The guardian spirit is the most authentic thing in your heart that has become magic."

"The process of practicing this spell is not just about learning a defensive spell. You have to look into your heart, find those vague and indescribable things, and then condense them into a concrete form."

He raised a finger and tapped his chest: "The process itself is what makes your spirit stronger."

Once you can summon a complete guardian spirit, your perception of magic, your control over emotions, and your understanding of your own heart will all reach a new level.

He added, "By then, the Guardian Angel's ability to fend off Dementors will be just the most basic use; it can do far more than you think."

Lily didn't quite understand, but she wrote these words down and planned to digest them slowly later.

She lowered her head and thought for a while, then raised her hand and held up her wand.

She closed her eyes and her breathing slowed down.

The happy memories were still in her mind, but she didn't actively try to grasp them. She let them float by themselves, neither grabbing nor pushing them.

She was looking for something else.

She didn't know what it was, but she was looking for it.

"Protect the Gods."

Silver light surged from the tip of the staff, smaller and weaker than before, probably only reaching the third level of the Fluorescent Spell.

Lily opened her eyes, looked at the ball of silver light, and frowned slightly.

Regulus stood to the side, his magical senses gently sweeping over them.

The silver light had indeed dimmed, and the size had shrunk. Judging from its appearance alone, it was not as good as before.

But the contents inside are different.

This time the silver light was much smaller, but the density of the magic was a little higher than before, and the boundaries were a little clearer, as if it was starting to gather inward from the clouds and slowly solidifying.

It was so subtle that you wouldn't notice it unless you were paying close attention, but Regulus noticed it.

Lily put away her wand, and the silver light dissipated. She stared at the tip of the wand for two seconds, then her expression fell.

"Why do I feel like it's even worse than before?" she muttered, her voice a little deflated and unwilling. "It was bright enough before, but this time it's not even that bright."

Regulus looked at her and a slight smile curved his lips. "Why do I feel like you're even brighter?"

Lily didn't even look up, just snorted, the sound coming out of her nose in a muffled tone.

She knew Regulus was trying to comfort her, or maybe he wasn't; that's just how he was—it was hard to tell if he was serious or just fooling her.

But every time he tried to fool her, it turned out he was right.

Lily sighed, looked up, and said with a helpless expression, as if she couldn't do anything about it: "Fine, it's lit."

Her tone was exactly the same as before. This is how she always does it when she can't argue with him: first she glares at him, then she snorts, and finally she gives in.

What else can we do?

Regulus laughed out loud.

Lily's ears turned slightly red from his laughter, and she turned her head away, pretending to look out the window.

There was nothing outside the window, just darkness.

Regulus glanced at the coat rack on the windowsill, where two scarves were still hanging together, one dark gray and the other Gryffindor gold and red.

"That's enough for today," he said. "Go back and think about it yourself. No rush, take your time."

Lily turned around and responded.

She walked to the wooden shelf to get a scarf, wrapped her own scarf around her twice, and then glanced at the dark gray one next to her.

She reached out and touched it, asking, "When will it be next time?"

Regulus's voice came from behind: "We'll see."

Lily pursed her lips.

She walked to the door, opened it, and the hinges clicked once.

She turned around, waved at him with a big gesture and a big smile: "Then I'm leaving, Professor Regulus."

Regulus raised his hand and waved it: "Go ahead, Lily."

The door closed, and footsteps echoed in the corridor for a while, growing fainter and fainter until they disappeared from sight.

Regulus stood in the middle of the classroom, looking at the closed door, and remained silent for a while.

He was thinking about something.

In her original destiny, Lily Evans's guardian spirit was a doe.

The female deer is gentle, alert, and maternal.

James Potter's patron deity is the stag.

Male deer and female deer, a match made in heaven, destined for each other.

How romantic.

The soul mappings have all been arranged for them, and even their guardian spirits are saying, "You two are a pair, you should be together."

Regulus's lips twitched slightly. The more romantic it was, the more pathetic it was.

Lily's guardian angel is defined by relationships.

The deepest projection of a wizard's soul, which should have been her own, turned out to be an appendage of someone else.

A doe, a female deer, the mate of a male deer.

Lily Evans is not in this.

Some of them were Potter's wife, Harry Potter's mother, and the unattainable ideal woman in Snape's heart.

But what about Lily?

What about her?

What about her talent? What about her temperament? What about her green eyes and red hair? What about the way she looked so focused as she flipped through books by the library window? What about the courage she had to rush to her aid when someone was bullying a classmate?

These things, according to their original fate, all disappeared from the stage.

She spent her whole life responding to others.

To respond to Snape's obsession, to respond to James's pursuit, and to respond to Voldemort's pursuit.

When she was alive, she was Snape's Mudblood friend, James's Gryffindor flower, and Harry's mother.

Even worse after death, he became the shadow that Snape cherished for twenty years, an old photograph, a reflection in the Mirror of Erised, and a footnote in someone else's story.

She never had her own story.

Her guardian deity is a doe, paired with her husband, and even her soul serves a marital relationship.

What is this?

This is the most subtle form of discrimination in the magical world.

Your soul is not a reflection of yourself, but rather your other half as someone else.

You exist to complete a pair with another person.

Regulus turned his gaze away from the door.

He had thought about this when he talked to Sirius about power in the corridor before. One kind of true power is the ability that cannot be defined.

Dumbledore was defined by light, Voldemort by fear.

Lily Evans is defined by relationships.

That was his predetermined fate, and he refused to accept it.

The Lily he knew was in third grade and thirteen years old.

She would glare at him for being perfunctory, secretly be happy when he praised her, sneak up on him while he was talking during a duel, and go to Professor McGonagall to ask about her Patronus.

This is a living person, a little witch with her own thoughts and temper.

Why should her soul serve as an accessory for a relationship that hasn't even happened yet?

When he arrives, these things must change.

But Regulus also knew that what he was doing was not turning Lily into a second version of himself.

He didn't need Lily to think like him, act like him, or see the world like him.

What he did was simple: he showed her a wider world, gave her enough power and understanding, and then let her choose for herself.

He doesn't care what you choose.

She might still marry Jaime, her guardian spirit might still be a doe, and the inertia of fate might be greater than she imagined.

But that should at least be Lily's own choice, the one she chose after seeing all the paths clearly, not something that was arranged for her.

Not defined by bloodline, not defined by James, not defined by Snape, not even defined by Regulus.

See the world, then see yourself again, and then make your own choices.

This is all he can give her.

Regulus walked to the coat rack, took off his scarf, wrapped it around his neck, and pushed open the door.

Several torches in the corridor had gone out, and the light was much dimmer than when he came. He walked along the corridor toward Slytherin, his footsteps echoing softly on the stone walls.

He wasn't sure if, even without this incident tonight, Lily's guardian angel would still be the doe.

Maybe not.

Some things have been changing for a while now, and his arrival is the biggest variable.

The fact that he and Lily are friends—a pure-blood heir to Slytherin and a Muggle-born witch from Gryffindor—is absurd enough in itself.

There's someone in her life who should never have been there before.

This person taught her magic, helped her build a foundation, had her train as a guardian spirit, and told her that there was another path besides memories.

These things will leave a mark on her heart, and those marks will lead her down a different path.

As for where she goes and what she becomes, that's Lily's own business.

Currently reading: Chapter 270 How romantic, how tragic, the latest chapter is available here.