Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 286 Sirius Black and the Potters

The Hogwarts Express came to a stop at King's Cross Station, steam billowing from the engine and engulfing the platform in a white mist.

The doors opened, and the young wizards poured out, the boxes rattling on the stone slabs, owls fluttering in their cages, and laughter and calls filling the air.

Parents waved from the other end of the platform, their voices calling out names. Some were hugging, some were patting their shoulders, and some were crouching down to touch their children's faces.

Regulus got off the train. The platform was crowded with people, so he took a few steps to the side to avoid the flow of people.

Avery, Alex, and Hermes followed him down, and the three of them stood beside him, while only Alex carried the suitcase.

"See you at the Christmas dinner." Avery's eyes lit up, and his voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement.

He didn't quite understand what those kinds of banquets were all about before. They were family gatherings, eating, drinking, with adults talking and children listening—it was so boring.

But this semester is different.

What he did following Regulus made him gradually understand something.

Those dinners were not just meals; they were political arenas for the elite clique.

Those adults exchanged information, stated their positions, and tried to win over or distance themselves from others in that setting.

What we eat is secondary; who sits where is the main thing.

The more he learned about what was going on, the more he wanted to get involved; he felt that was the right thing to do.

The heir to the Cuthbert family should be in an occasion like this.

Hermes slowly walked over from behind; his father, Abros Murseb, was already waiting at the other end of the platform.

He glanced in that direction, then turned back: "Our family is participating this year too."

His tone was so casual, as if he were just saying the weather was nice today.

Regulus looked at the two of them; Avery was like a lit fire, and Hermes was like a piece of charcoal that hadn't burned.

The Cuthbert family has always been clear about their stance. They had already chosen sides with Voldemort, so it was only natural for Avery to follow suit.

The Muirsebers had already chosen sides, but their tradition was to keep their dark magic to themselves and not show their faces.

This year's Christmas dinner is a formal debut for their family, so Hermes has to attend.

Regulus looked away and turned to Alex.

Alex stood at the very edge, his suitcase beside him, his scarf covering the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes visible.

His family was waiting at the outermost edge of the platform. His mother, who was not tall and had dark hair, was wearing a thick wool shawl and was standing on tiptoe, peering into the crowd.

His father stood beside him, holding a folded copy of the Daily Prophet, which he hadn't yet unfolded.

The Rozier branch doesn't attend those kinds of dinners; they just want to live their own lives quietly and never get involved in outside affairs.

Their logic was simple: Voldemort and Dumbledore had nothing to do with a small family like theirs.

It's better to close the door and live your own life well than anything else.

Alex grew up in this environment and he felt that his parents were right.

Avoid getting involved in or touching troublesome things outside the home if possible.

But he knew in his heart that the line had already been crossed when he started fighting against Rabastan alongside Regulus.

There will be more and bigger things to come: taking sides, conflicts, and even wars.

He was ready.

He just didn't want his parents to be affected; they were just ordinary wizards who wanted a peaceful life.

Regulus looked at Alex, then glanced at the couple at the edge of the platform.

This is the true nature of most people in the wizarding world.

They are people who don't take sides, don't participate in major events, and just want to live their lives peacefully.

They certainly read newspapers, discussed the situation, sighed in front of the fireplace, and felt that the world was not doing well.

But after sighing, you close the newspaper, eat your meal, and go to work.

They have neither the resources to choose sides nor the confidence to remain neutral.

When war actually reaches their doorstep, all they can do is run or carry the burden, but they are not good at either of those.

"Have a good rest during the holidays," Regulus said to Alex, his tone as usual. "See you when school starts."

Avery slapped Alex's arm, a little too hard, and Alex was jerked to the side, turning to glare at him.

Avery chuckled, "Let's go, let's go, the family's waiting."

"See you at the dinner," he said, turning to Regulus.

Hermes nodded as a farewell, then turned and walked toward his father.

Regulus stood there, watching the three of them merge into the crowd and walk in different directions.

The steam hadn't completely dissipated, white mist still hung overhead, and the noise of people came from all directions.

He turned and walked through the crowd, past a group of Hufflepuff first-years carrying boxes and running around, until he reached a corner at the end of the platform.

Kreacher was waiting there.

The little elf wore a clean tea towel, folded like an apron, with the edges neatly tucked in.

When it saw Regulus, it bent its whole body down, its nose almost touching the ground, and its large ears drooping on both sides.

"Young Master is back. Kreacher is here to take him home."

After it finished speaking, it stretched out a long finger, the tip of which was aimed at Regulus's trouser leg.

"Wait," Regulus said.

Kreacher's finger froze in mid-air. He obediently withdrew it, stepped aside, and waited with his hand and head bowed.

Regulus stood there, his gaze sweeping over the crowd and landing on the Gryffindor group.

Sirius Black stood in the crowd, facing James Potter and his parents.

James's mouth hasn't stopped since earlier.

"Really going back?" He grabbed Sirius's arm, speaking rapidly. "I really don't understand, what did he say to you?"

He leaned forward, his tone becoming even more aggressive: "The Black family, that place," he said, using whatever words were offensive.

When they used to curse like this, Sirius would curse along, cursing more enthusiastically than anyone else. After they finished cursing, they would laugh together, and after laughing, they would continue cursing.

Sirius Black called his brother "Slytherin's little snake," and while Sirius never joined in the insults, he never stopped him either.

But things are different now.

James noticed the change about three weeks ago, after Sirius and his brother came in through the Great Hall restaurant door.

When he started cursing the Black family again, Sirius didn't respond, didn't argue, and didn't get angry. He just kept quiet and waited for Sirius to finish cursing before changing the subject.

But when he curses Regulus again, Sirius will show an unhappy expression, his face saying, "Stop talking."

This made James anxious.

Sirius is still Sirius.

They messed around at Hogwarts, got into trouble together, played pranks together, went to the Forbidden Forest together, and got points deducted by McGonagall together.

Nothing has changed.

But some things are different now. He can't quite put his finger on what's different, but they just aren't the same.

He had been sleeping with Sirius for two and a half years, and he could sense even the slightest change in his good friend.

He didn't know the reason, so he could only worry and resort to the old methods.

They cursed the Black family, cursed Slytherin, cursed that little viper.

It seems that Sirius is still the same Sirius.

But now that Sirius isn't cooperating, James is starting to panic.

Charles Porter stood behind his son, his hair gray, wearing square-framed glasses, unlike James's round-framed ones, but with the exact same curve of his nose.

He was quite old, with deep wrinkles on his face, but he was full of energy and stood there very upright.

He heard James getting increasingly absurd and reached out to press down on his son's shoulder.

James turned to look at him, his mouth still open, the rest of his sentence stuck in his throat.

Charles didn't look at his son; he looked at Sirius with a solemn, elder-like gaze: "Sirius, you know, the Potter door is always open for you."

He paused for a moment, then said, "Anytime is fine."

Euphemia Porter walked up from behind her husband; she was short and had white hair.

She was wearing a dark blue robe and a light gray scarf, which was finely woven.

Her face was round with fine lines at the corners of her eyes, and her whole face lit up when she smiled.

Without saying a word, she walked straight to Sirius and hugged him.

She placed her hand on Sirius's back and patted him twice, gently, as if patting her own child.

She felt that the child would suffer if he returned to that home, that he would be neglected, and that he would be slowly crushed by those people's gazes and tones. So she wanted to give him a warmth he could remember before he left.

Sirius's body stiffened slightly, and his eyes welled up with tears.

But it passed quickly. He took a breath and pushed the heat down into his chest, preventing it from escaping.

Euphemia released him, took a half step back, looked up at him, said nothing, and just smiled.

Sirius looked into her eyes, his throat bobbed, and then he grinned, revealing his signature smile.

He's flamboyant and carefree, seemingly capable of handling anything.

"I'm just going back to take a look," he said casually, with his characteristic nonchalance. "Don't make it sound like a life-or-death separation."

He raised his hand and patted his chest. "I'm also surnamed Blake, remember? That's my home. I'm going back to my home, so what?"

Even he himself felt something was off when he said those words.

In the past, when he mentioned the Blake family, every word he uttered was barbed, fiery, and carried the kind of intensity that made him want to set the whole house on fire.

Saying it now doesn't have the same impact.

That home is still that home, but he still doesn't like it, and he probably never will.

But he wanted to go back and see, with his own eyes, without hatred or resistance, just to see.

He turned to face James, reached out and slapped him hard across the back.

James stumbled forward from the slap, nearly knocking his glasses off. He straightened himself, grinned, and glared back at him: "You!"

Sirius Black slapped him again on the shoulder, this time even louder.

"Hey," he grinned, revealing his teeth, "Don't think I can't come back just because I'm going back. I'm going home to practice magic, Transfiguration. Let's have a contest when school starts."

James rubbed his shoulder, glared at him for a moment, and then laughed: "You think the Potters aren't formidable? Don't cry later."

Lu Ping walked over from the side. He looked better today. The full moon had just passed, and he was still recovering, but he was in good spirits.

Sirius looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Remus, isn't the moon beautiful?"

Lupin paused for a moment, then smiled gently and shook his head: "So-so."

Peter stood at the very back, his shoulders hunched. Sirius glanced at him, and Peter quickly put on a smile and waved.

Sirius nodded at them and then turned to walk to the other end of the platform.

He had already seen it; Regulus was in that corner, leaning against the wall, waiting quietly.

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