Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 295 The Changed Magical Texture

Each of the six stars is on its own orbit.

Betelgeuse glowed with a dark red light, Betelgeuse was bright blue and white, the three stars on the belt were steadily connected, and Betelgeuse was on the outermost edge, so faint that it was almost invisible.

The entire system operated smoothly, with no deviation in its trajectory.

He brought his consciousness to the surface, to the mental level, and found the containment chamber.

A pure white, hexagonal room with no doors or windows.

The virtual personality crouched in the corner, its magic dark and gloomy, with a corrosive gray shadow hanging around its edges.

The runes it carved on the ground covered the entire floor and extended crookedly to the walls, like a calendar carved by a person who had been imprisoned for too long with their fingernail in a cell.

It sensed it; the bone box was outside, and new materials were coming.

It stood up from the corner, walked to the wall, placed its palm on it, spread its fingers, and traced lines on the white inner wall with its fingertips.

There was no sound, only what welled up in those eyes: curiosity, thirst, and an heightened focus.

Regulus opened the magic conduit.

Last time it was a trickle, this time he turned the flow up.

The information and magic of Dark Enlightenment flowed from the bone box into the containment chamber through the mental channel. The grayish-black substance was poured in through the tube, with a higher concentration and greater quantity than last time.

The virtual personality raised its hand and caught it.

Dark gray magic gathered in its palm, its eyes lit up, reflecting the churning things in its pupils, which were then stained black, like thick ink spreading in its eyes.

It started working.

With its hands gesturing in the air, it outlined one rune structure after another, some of which were fragments of spells brought from the bone box, and some were variations that it deduced itself during its idling.

Its expression became focused, its eyes filled with fervor, and it chanted silently, faster and faster, with increasingly rapid hand gestures.

Stop making a fuss.

Now that there's something to study, all that irritability, wall-scratching, and madness has disappeared; all that's left is research.

Regulus watched for a while and confirmed that the virtual personality was stable and that the flow of magic conduit was normal.

Then he began what he was really going to do.

Filter layer.

The previous setting was full-scale filtering, where all information and magic with polluting properties were intercepted in the containment chamber, and only purified, clean knowledge was released.

Now he's lowered the setting and enlarged the mesh of the sieve.

The filtration accuracy dropped from full to about 60%, and the semi-polluted substances that were originally blocked, the gray stuff between pure dark magic and clean knowledge, began to seep out.

The direction is from the containment chamber towards the main consciousness, but separated by star trails.

The gray matter traveled outward along the spiritual channel, like smoke or mist, without a fixed form, only possessing a heavy texture, carrying a downward pressing force.

That kind of pressure wasn't aggressive; it was more like a declaration.

Kneel down.

obey.

This is what Voldemort gave us: domination.

A power attribute that demands submission from the very core of all who come into contact with it, making one want to kneel, or wanting others to kneel.

Pain and domination are the underlying themes of the magical path revealed by Dark Enlightenment.

The gray substance seeped into the outer edge of the star trails and touched the first layer.

Orion, the fourth star.

A dark red light was burning there, but it wasn't in the form of flames; it was more like a continuously expanding heat source, pushing and exploding outwards.

The gray substance was forced back when it encountered the area covered by red light.

Pure attributes are mutually exclusive.

The image of Betelgeuse is one of outward expansion and outward burst; its magic is to push outward from the inside, while the magic of gray matter is to seep inward from the outside.

The two magical forces collided head-on, and the gray thing was pushed back by the red light, like water flowing against the current hitting a floodgate, incomparable.

They retreated, took a detour, and went to the edges that Betelgeuse couldn't reach.

The gray material seeped in along the gaps in the star trails, bypassing the area around Betelgeuse, and continued deeper into the region.

We encountered Betelgeuse again.

The blue-white light was quiet and still, just shining there.

Then the gray substance stopped.

It's like a person walking and encountering a wall, but this wall has nothing to do with physics; it's a definition.

Inside this wall lies Regulus, his will, his soul, and his self-definition.

Anything outside of this does not belong here.

Betelgeuse does nothing; it simply shines there, and its shining is everything.

The gray matter piled up outside the blue-white light, churning and accumulating, but it couldn't get past.

It has enough power, just at a different level.

They are Voldemort's power, strong, heavy, and possessing a domineering quality.

However, what Rigel protects is not in the dimension of power.

It protects who I am, and Regulus's independent will itself.

This boundary is not maintained by force, but by confirming who you are, what you want, and that you will not be changed by anything external.

Further in, the starlight of the three stars in the belt forms a closed loop, surrounding the soul at its very center.

The gray substance swirls and churns outside the closed loop, like waves crashing against rocks, wave after wave, without ceasing, but to no avail.

A closed loop represents order, while gray matter represents chaos.

Where there is order, chaos cannot get in.

The little soul is in the center of the starlight, separated by Rigel and the three-star closed loop.

It was there, shining, and the turmoil outside had nothing to do with it.

Regulus glanced at Betelgeuse.

On the outermost edge, the faint light, almost invisible, remained unchanged.

Expected.

He withdrew from the spiritual world, and the effects are already evident.

Those gray substances were confined to the outermost layer of the magic cycle, beyond the star trails and within the mental barrier.

They adhere to the surface of the magic, altering its original texture.

He could feel something extra on him, a shadow, a heaviness, emanating from the bone box.

He raised his right hand and pointed his index finger at the candlestick on the corner of the table.

A small flame leaped from my fingertip and landed on the candle wick.

The candles are lit.

The flames burned normally, orange-yellow, but not entirely normally.

There was a very faint gray ring at the base of the flame, barely noticeable unless you looked closely, but it was there nonetheless.

He sensed the difference when the magic was unleashed.

It was heavier, thicker, and heavier than usual, as if a layer of lead had been wrapped around its magical surface.

It doesn't affect the accuracy or speed of casting spells, but it changes the texture of the magic when it's transmitted to the outside world.

Oppression, domination, suffering.

If someone sensitive to dark magic stands in front of him, they will sense that this person's magic is abnormal, that something is corrupting him, or that he wants to corrupt others.

But that's how it is.

He adjusted the filter's precision back to full and minimized the interface of the containment chamber, leaving only the small amount of bandwidth needed for the virtual personality to process the materials.

The source of the gray substance has been cut off.

Those already attached to the surface of the magic will not disappear immediately; they will dissipate naturally over several hours, or he may need to actively remove them.

He didn't clear it; he left it.

Make it again before the dinner the day after tomorrow, just add it to the right concentration.

He placed the bone box back into the rune box, closed the rune-engraved box, pushed it into the drawer, and closed it.

Baruch leaned over as soon as he pulled his hand away from the drawer.

It placed its front legs on the back of his hand, and its chelicerae opened and closed with a click.

Regulus tapped its carapace with his index finger.

Baruch shrank back slightly, then straightened up again, placing his front legs on top of him.

He didn't move it anymore, leaving it hanging there.

The flame on the candlestick burned, and the light flickered on the table.

Baruch lingered on the back of his hand for a moment, then crawled back to the corner of the table and curled up into a ball.

Regulus stood up, walked to the bedside, and lay down.

There were several cracks in the ceiling, just like in Sirius's room, running from one end to the other.

He watched for a while.

Close your eyes and go to sleep.

December 25, 1973, 5:30 p.m., Grimaldo Place, Entrance No. 12.

Orion stood at the door, his black tuxedo impeccably tailored, the collar pulled up to just below his Adam's apple, the Black family crest pinned to his right breast—silver with black patterns, featuring the twin stars and Sirius, gleaming coldly in the green flames.

He wore the family ring on his left hand, his right hand hung naturally at his sides, and his face was expressionless.

Regulus stood to his right, his robe style similar to his father's: narrow shoulders, fitted waist, and hem just covering his ankles, with one less band of silver thread on the cuffs than Orion's.

He wore the same ring as Orion on his left hand, with the same design and pattern, but without the authority of the head of the family.

Sirius stood next to Regulus, wearing the same black robe and the same patterned cuffs, but he seemed a little uncomfortable in it; even though the collar fit perfectly, he still reached out and tugged at it.

He had nothing in his hands.

Walbuga wore a dark green evening gown, high-waisted, with narrow sleeves and a hem that reached her feet. She wore a thin silver chain around her neck and her hair was styled in a high bun.

She was impeccably dressed and stood out among the three men in black robes, the only one with color in her clothes.

"Go to the main banquet hall first when you arrive, don't linger in the foyer for too long," Walbuga said while checking his gloves, his gaze sweeping over the three people without looking at anyone, but not ignoring anyone, just as he spoke.

"Rodolphs is the male head of the household, Bella is the female head of the household, and the Lestrange family is hosting this year, so the rules are more elaborate than in previous years."

"Orion, remember to talk to Rodolphs a bit more. You and old Abraxas talked for so long over at the Malfoy family last year, you can't seem distant here."

Orion didn't respond.

Walbuga turned to Regulus: "Rayle, Bella will definitely want to talk to you tonight, you..."

"Um."

"No, I haven't finished yet. Her temper is getting worse and worse." Walbuga paused, put on his gloves, and began to straighten his skirt. "Remember my words, Bella is one of us. When she talks to you, you should listen carefully."

Orion didn't move.

Regulus didn't move either.

The two people stood in the hallway, almost like two stone statues wearing robes.

Sirius was moving all over.

Walbuga was still talking.

She mentioned banquet etiquette, saying that although it was a buffet dinner tonight, the way one held the wine glass should not be casual.

When it came to the wording when talking to Bella, Bella is now the lady of the Lestrange family, so she can't be called "Cousin Bella" like before; she has to be called "Mrs. Lestrange."

When asked why Sirius was absent last year, he said he was unwell and resting in Grimoire Place.

Upon hearing this, Sirius's face contorted in pain, his lips drooped, and his nose wrinkled, as if he had stepped on something.

He had been putting up with Walbuga's nagging, but he couldn't take it anymore and snapped, "I'm not sick."

Walbuga finally turned his head and looked at him directly. His gaze instantly turned stern, and his brow furrowed as if he was about to explode.

Orion raised his hand and pressed his palm down: "It's about time."

Regulus watched this scene unfold.

This scene is quite interesting. The father knows what to do tonight, and Sirius knows what the dinner party is all about.

Nobody considers those occasions to be anything important.

The so-called Christmas dinner party is something that those in the inner circle all know very well: a social event put on for everyone else to see.

The banquet is a stage where the pure-blooded family performs a play, and the audience is themselves; the symbolic meaning far outweighs the practical meaning.

The truly important decisions are made in the study, in a private conversation by the fireplace, in the margins of a letter, but never when a group of people are raising their glasses.

What's more, he's going there tonight to cause trouble.

Meanwhile, Walbuca was teaching them how to hold the wine glass.

Only she truly cares about these things.

Pureblood honor, social etiquette, the Black family's reputation, Mrs. Nott's opinion, and the Malfoy family's assessment.

What she cared about was whether the purebloods recognized the Black family, whether her husband was respectable enough, whether her son was outstanding enough, and whether the dress she wore was worthy of her surname.

These things are everything to her.

Orion walked toward the door, and Walbuga followed, taking his right arm.

Orion let her hold his arm, not shaking her off, but he didn't look at her either.

He glanced at Regulus and said, "He's yours."

Regulus nodded.

Orion and Walbuga walked out of the hall, Apparated, and disappeared.

Only the two brothers remained in the foyer.

Regulus turned to look at Sirius, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Sirius's expression changed: "No—"

Regulus has never been to Lestrange Estate, but he can catch up with Orion.

He grabbed Sirius's right arm, and the next moment, the space tightened, and with a snap, he disappeared.

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