Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 294 Orion: Whom Does He Take From?

Regulus walked up to Sirius.

Sirius's eyes couldn't move, but even though they couldn't move, they seemed to be staring at him with great force.

In those gray eyes, the left eye says "You're waiting," and the right eye says "You're finished." Put them together, they mean one thing: you need to untangle this for me.

Regulus flicked his finger to release the petrification, and then flicked it again to remove the earplugs.

He can move again, and his voice is back.

The crackling of the fireplace, the sound of the wind outside the window, and the rustling of Orion flipping through documents at the desk.

Sirius's body suddenly loosened, his arm fell and slapped the armrest, and he shook his wrist a couple of times.

His facial expression shifted from a petrified, stiff state to anger almost without any transition.

His eyebrows went from furrowed to pressed down, his mouth turned down, his chin was pushed forward, and his whole face was radiating fire.

He took a deep breath, the air rolling around in his chest, making his shoulders rise.

His mouth opened even wider, and the first syllable of "you fucking bastard" was already pressed against the tip of his tongue. "Sirius," Regulus's voice rang out first, his tone completely different from before, with a hint of seriousness and solemnity.

Even his eyes conveyed sincerity: "I need help."

Sirius's mouth was still open, the rest of his words stuck in his throat.

Need help?

These two words coming from Regulus's mouth were even more unexpected to him than being disarmed earlier.

When had Regulus, whom he had seen in the past—in Grimmauld Place, at Hogwarts, on the windowsill in the corridor—ever ever said he needed help?

This younger brother always gave the impression of being the type who didn't need anyone else, handled everything himself, and never asked for anything.

Sirius's anger was cut off, it didn't disappear, it was just covered up by something else.

curious.

His mouth was still open, his expression changed from anger to confusion, his brows were furrowed, and there was still fire in his eyes, but it was suppressed.

His gaze swept over Regulus's face, then over it again, his tone a little strange, as if he hadn't decided what to say: "What is it?"

'

"On the day of the banquet," Regulus said directly, "I'm going to make my move."

Sirius's eyes lit up; his attention was instantly captured, his brows relaxed, and he unconsciously leaned forward.

Do it.

This word worked better for him than anything else.

"Bella wants to cause me trouble," Regulus said gravely, "but when to talk, how to talk, and where to talk are not her decisions, but mine."

He looked into Sirius's eyes: "She thinks she can overpower me, I'll let her try."

Sirius's lips began to curl upwards, and Regulus's expression looked as if he were entrusting something important to Regulus.

He tried to appear more composed, so he tried to tuck his lips down, but he couldn't and they still parted in a wide grin.

Regulus then changed the subject: "But Bella is amazing, you know that."

Sirius wasn't being stubborn; Bella was indeed impressive, but he felt awkward admitting it directly.

To acknowledge Bella's prowess is as if it were an admission of all her madness as well.

He neither nodded nor shook his head, but just grinned.

Regulus ignored him and continued, "I need to focus on dealing with her, so Rabastani is your responsibility."

Sirius paused for a moment, then said, "Rabastan?"

"The Lestrange family, third year," Regulus said curtly, "those two half-breeds who touched my people deserve an explanation."

Sirius pursed his lips. "Third-year Lestrange, is this something Regulus should specifically mention?"

He looked at Regulus's face and felt that something was off.

Regulus could easily handle a third-grader; why would he need to help?

He opened his mouth to ask, but Regulus's face seemed serious.

He suppressed his suspicion, raised his chin slightly, and adopted a reserved posture, as if to say, "If you're asking me for help, then I'll reluctantly listen."

"How can I help?"

"I'll be going up against Bella at the dinner party, and I won't let Rabastan get away either," Regulus said. "But I'm too busy, so I'll leave it to you."

Sirius wasn't particularly interested. Rabastan, being a scrap, was given to him, but Regulus wanted to focus on dealing with Bella, so he gave him the other one.

This logic is sound.

"No problem," he patted the armrest and was about to stand up: "Leave it to me."

"But," Regulus pressed him down.

Sirius Black's sentence was cut short again.

"You have to wait for the signal," Regulus said, looking at him. "Until then, do nothing, do nothing, just like you're attending a normal dinner party."

He emphasized, "The same."

Sirius pursed his lips.

“I said the same,” Regulus saw what he meant: “the same, not the same as you think.”

Don't glare at him beforehand, don't roll your eyes at him, and don't bump into him with your shoulder when you walk past him.

Sirius's mouth opened and closed twice; he had thought about all three things.

He took a deep breath, exhaled, and said in a slightly muffled voice, "Okay, I'll wait for the signal."

"Wait for the signal before you move," Regulus said with a smirk. "Appear at the crucial moment, when everyone is watching, and strike decisively."

He gave Sirius a thumbs up: "Cool."

Sirius's eyes lit up again.

He propped himself up from the chair, pulled his shoulders back, raised his chin, and couldn't maintain his composure any longer, grinning from ear to ear.

The expression on his face changed from "I'll listen to you" to "I knew how to do this all along."

"You should have said so earlier."

Behind the desk, Orion sat in a chair, watching Regulus, with just a few words, transform Sirius from an angry boy into someone eager to try.

He held a teacup in his hand, his face expressionless, but there was a hint of relaxation in his eyes.

The youngest son's coaxing skills are the same as when he fooled Walbuga, but the target and the method have changed.

What Walbuga wanted was to hear what she wanted to hear, so he gave it to her.

Sirius Black wants a sense of presence and the right to act; just give him that.

The methods may differ, but the core principle remains the same: knowing what the other party wants and then providing them with a perfectly tailored version.

Sirius Black is so easy to coax, who did he take after?

Orion shook his head slightly in his heart.

Regulus stood up and turned to Orion: "I'll head back now, Father."

Orion nodded: "Get some rest."

Sirius Black stood up from his chair, shrugged, and muttered, "I'm leaving too."

Orion looked at him: "Go."

The two brothers walked out of the study one after the other, the door closing behind them with a low, resonant turning sound before falling silent.

The light from the wall lamps in the corridor cast long shadows of the two people, stretching from their feet all the way to the wall behind them.

Sirius followed Regulus, his mind racing between figuring out how to deal with Rabastan at the dinner party and replaying Regulus's words in his mind.

Help me out, deal with Bella. Labastan is yours. Wait for the signal, one strike and you're good.

The more I think about it, the more excited I get.

He walked to his room door and paused for a moment.

Regulus didn't stop walking, only saying, "Goodnight, Sirius."

Sirius Black froze, not quite understanding. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Regulus continued walking forward, his footsteps fading into the distance in the corridor.

Sirius stood by the door, watching Regulus turn into his bedroom. Then he shut his mouth, made a strange face, grimaced, pulled the corners of his mouth to the sides, and jutted his chin forward.

call.

Push the door open and go inside.

He took off the robe and threw it on the ground. It was an old robe, and he wouldn't be able to wear it again once the magic wore off. He didn't believe that Walbuga would let him wear an old robe to the banquet.

He dares to wear it, but would Walbuga dare to let him wear it?

Sirius sat on the edge of the bed, stretched his shoulders, and his joints clicked.

Then I sat still, something popped into my head, and the more I thought about it, the more wrong it seemed.

Regulus returned to his room and closed the door.

Baruch was still lying on the corner of the table. When he came in, it raised its front legs, its chelipeds opened and closed with a click.

"Kreacher".

Snapped.

Kreacher emerged from the air, holding a small plate with a palm-sized piece of raw steak on it, the blood still dripping down the bottom.

It floated the plate onto the table, bowed to Regulus, and then disappeared.

Baruch's eight eyes all fixed on the piece of meat.

It crawled over from the corner of the table, lowered its front half, extended its pincers, gripped the edge of the steak, twirled it halfway around, found a good angle to bite, and then snapped the whole thing onto the steak.

Click.

The sound of fine fibers snapping rang out several times in a row.

Its chelicerae constantly rotate, cut, and feed the meat, moving quickly and eating rapidly.

Blood dripped down its chelicerae and clung to its bristles, but it didn't care.

Regulus watched it eat, his expression unchanged.

Baruch finished the steak in less than a minute, leaving only a pool of blood and a few tough tendons on the plate.

It raised its forelegs and rubbed them against its chelicerae, as if wiping its mouth.

Regulus wiped the blood off the table with a clean cloth and pushed the plate aside.

He sat at the table for a while, then went to wash up.

The sound of water echoed in the stone washroom. Baruch lay on the table, the hair on his legs standing on end as he sensed the vibrations.

After a while, Regulus changed into a robe, loosening the collar, and returned to the table.

Baruch had already shrunk back into the corner of the table, his eight legs tucked under his body, turning him into a ball.

Regulus pulled open the bottom drawer of the desk, and Baruch followed suit.

It unfolds from a spherical shape, with eight legs supporting it on the table, the two front legs extending towards the drawer, and its chelicerae half-open.

It's getting close.

Regulus freed one hand, palm down, and placed it on the table in front of Baruch to block it.

Baruch's forelegs tapped his fingers lightly, and its chelicerae opened and closed twice, making a clicking sound.

"Don't touch it."

Baruch clicked again, his front legs still supporting him in the same position, no longer moving, but his body leaned forward, trying to look with his eyes.

Regulus ignored it and took out the rune box, placing it on the table.

turn on.

The bone box lay inside, with dark gold runes affixed to the surface of the bone, flickering like breathing.

He closed his eyes, focused his mind inward, and shifted his perspective.

The star trails are moving.