Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 307 Go Have a Baby

Regulus stood in the center of the ruins, looking around.

The Lestrange family's banquet hall was about forty meters long, a little over thirty meters wide, and nearly nine meters high. The four load-bearing walls were made of solid granite blocks, and the top was a Gothic pointed arch dome.

There are three narrow windows on each side, and two load-bearing colonnades in the middle divide the space into three longitudinal areas. The building itself is inlaid with at least three layers of superimposed structural solidification spells and anti-intrusion runes.

Over two hundred years of accumulated family magic has allowed this mansion to withstand many upheavals.

Now it's been beaten into this state by two Blacks.

Two of the four walls collapsed, most of the stone pillars fell down, the ground rolled over and collapsed back down, and rubble and dust covered the ground.

Debris was still falling from the cracks in the ceiling. The chandelier had long been smashed. The long table, candlesticks, portraits, tableware, curtains, and carpets were crushed into pieces mixed with gravel and wood chips.

Regulus stood amidst the ruins, assessing his own condition.

The magic power has been depleted, more than expected.

There's nothing we can do about it; considering his age, he's still growing, so his total magic power will be less.

But the magical cycle of star trail meditation continues to operate.

Each of the six stars follows its own orbit, and magic flows continuously in the loop, with a recovery speed far exceeding that of its peers, and even surpassing that of most adult wizards.

If he takes a break after each round of attacks, his mana regenerates faster than it is depleted.

And so far, his playing style has been relatively economical.

In the opening exchange of spells, he relied on precision and timing; the consumption of magic power was even less noticeable than the consumption of physical strength.

Later, when dismantling Bella's Transfiguration, they used minimal magic to strike the most crucial point, consuming far less magic than Bella.

But when it comes to saving, Bella is actually saving as well.

Although if a normal wizard were to take the full force of each of her spells, he would at least lose his fighting ability, or at worst die on the spot.

Later, her transformation magic went even further, turning this huge banquet hall into ruins.

If this happened outside, in a place without magical protection, the whole street would be doomed.

Bella's relatively stable emotions despite the situation were somewhat unexpected.

He thought she would get carried away after being knocked away the first time and would immediately pull out dark magic to attack her to death.

She didn't; instead, she chose to use Polymorph combined with spells for attack, which was a reasonable tactical arrangement.

If it were anyone else, even someone who had graduated from Hogwarts several years ago, they would most likely have been killed by a large-scale polymorph spell in a confined environment.

There's nothing wrong with her playing style; she just ran into someone who specifically countered it.

A large-scale attack is useless if it is precisely dismantled.

The current situation is that Bella is injured and her magic consumption is greater than his, but he has not been able to establish any decisive advantage.

After two rounds, he had the upper hand, but Bella's fighting ability was still intact, and her mental state was also stable.

This won't do. It'll be pointless to fight a war of attrition. I think Bella should understand that we can't win this way.

The current situation necessitates one side overwhelming the other; at this point, the possibility of reconciliation no longer exists.

Otherwise, it would be too embarrassing for her, and he wouldn't be willing to give her a way out.

He withdrew his gaze and looked across at the other side.

Most of the dust had settled, and the view had become clearer.

Bella stood on the pile of rubble seven or eight meters away, having already adjusted her posture.

Her breathing was still a little rapid, but the intense excitement on her face had subsided, replaced by a calmer expression.

She was looking at Regulus, her gaze sweeping over him from head to toe and then from toe to head, as if she were getting to know him all over again.

This little cousin, twelve years old, has fought her to this extent; his talent is worthy of his master's high regard.

It's understandable that he has the confidence to disregard her.

But he was too naive to think that this would give him the final say and allow him to speak with power.

Talent is one thing, vision is another.

He relied on his own power, while she relied on her master's trust; these two things were not even on the same level.

Power can be suppressed by greater power, but the master's trust was something she earned with her soul.

Thinking of her master, her gaze shifted from Regulus to a spot in the void that only she could see.

The more Regulus acts this way, the more it demonstrates his value.

Such talent, such a Black family heir, if he could be subdued, tamed, and sent to his master, the master would be satisfied.

The master will see what she does, acknowledge her vision, and reward her.

Her fingers traced patterns on her wand, her lips twitched slightly upwards, her pupils dilated a little, and her breathing became labored and somewhat broken.

A shiver, emanating from the very bones, crept up her spine, causing her shoulders to twitch slightly at the back of her neck.

I shivered.

Regulus watched as Bella stared at him for a while, then looked away, a strange expression on his face.

Half obsession, half greed, his lips trembled, his eyes gleamed, and within seconds his entire demeanor shifted from a fighting stance to something he didn't want to scrutinize.

He shook his head inwardly.

His emotions are relatively stable, but his mental state is hard to understand.

I have no idea what she's so happy about.

"My cousin Bella."

His voice rang out in the quiet banquet hall, neither too loud nor too soft, just enough to reach her ears.

Bella's gaze returned from the void to his face.

Regulus looked at her, his tone as gentle and non-aggressive as he had spoken every word that evening.

"We're family, why can't we talk this out properly?"

Then he looked around, his gaze sweeping over the collapsed walls, the shattered stone pillars, and the ground that had rolled over and collapsed back down.

"After all," his gaze returned to Bella's face, "this is your home."

Bella narrowed her eyes slightly.

How could she not know that Regulus had been intent on fighting her from the very beginning, fighting her to the death, and had no intention of having a proper talk from the start?

Now he stands in her wrecked banquet hall, asking her in a concerned tone why they can't have a proper talk.

Bella's lips twitched, but she didn't react.

Her eyes darted around, then she replied in a serious tone, "Yes, we are family."

She threw the question back at him, tilting her head to look at him: "Why can't we talk this out properly?"

Regulus shook his head slightly, a nostalgic expression on his face: "Cousin, we've been close since we were little."

Bella raised an eyebrow.

"Do you remember the first time you came to our house?" Regulus's tone softened, as if recalling a pleasant memory. "I was three years old then, and now it's been almost ten years."

He looked at Bella with a rare tenderness in his eyes: "I remember you were wearing a dark green velvet dress that day."

Bella loosened her grip on the wand slightly, her eyes momentarily vacant.

It was a spring tea party hosted by Walbuga in March 1964. Before going, she felt bored; tea party, children, socializing—none of it seemed to fit in.

Then Sirius turned the silverware into earthworms.

The living room was in chaos, earthworms were crawling on the tablecloth, and Volbuga's screams were faster than she was casting a spell.

Then, in front of everyone in the room, the three-year-old boy sitting in the corner reversed the transformation and restored the silverware.

She was extremely shocked at the time.

Bella pulled herself out of her reverie and frowned slightly.

She had already assumed that Regulus wouldn't speak kindly; every seemingly warm word was a dagger hidden beneath.

What's the point of all this talk?

She looked at Regulus but didn't say anything.

Without waiting for her reply, Regulus raised his wand and swung it towards his feet.

The rubble and broken slabs on the ground began to move, closing up, piecing together, and rising in front of him, transforming into a waist-high table and two chairs.

Regulus extended his left hand, palm up, and gestured towards the chair: "Cousin Bella, we're family, why are you fighting like this?"

Bella's masseter muscle twitched.

This kid is addicted to this routine.

"And I haven't had a chance to say it to his face yet," Regulus said with a serious tone, "I have received a great deal from the gift you sent on behalf of that lord."

"That gift showed me many things I hadn't seen before," he said, looking at Bella with a hint of gratitude in his eyes. "I've always wanted to express my gratitude to you in person."

Bella tilted her head, frowned as she looked at him, a mixture of wariness and confusion flashing in her eyes.

It was a mix of reminiscing, gratitude, and inviting her to sit down and talk.

What kind of person is this kid?

She was a little unsure.

"But, my cousin Bella."

Bella's expression changed immediately.

But again, there's a "but".

It's exactly the same as before. I care, but I don't care.

She tilted her head back slightly and squinted her eyes.

"You are now Mrs. Lestrange," Regulus said gently. "We are siblings, that will never change. You are the person that lord trusts most, and I respect you."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "But you shouldn't concern yourself with the Black family's affairs anymore."

Bella's lips slowly closed up.

"Isn't the Lestrange family enough of a concern for you?" Regulus's tone now carried a hint of concern.

Bella's chest heaved slightly.

Regulus looked at her with no malice on his face, only sincerity and concern, like a good younger brother thinking of his older sister who was getting married.

"I respect your work for that official," he said, "but when you go home, you still have to live your life."

His tone softened: "Have a child for the Lestrange family, cousin."

Bella's face started twitching; the muscle above her cheekbone twitched on its own, pulling upwards along with the corner of her right eye.

Rodolphus leaned against the wall, his hand holding the wand frozen in place.

Bella's words about being pressured to have a child came out of Regulus's mouth lightly, as if they were chatting casually.

The rift between him and Bella, something that was never mentioned, was torn open in this setting, in this tone, in front of everyone by a twelve-year-old boy.

He didn't care about being beaten up; a beating would settle things with the Black family, and he even found it reassuring.

His house was almost smashed, but he didn't care. He could fix it with money. He was just tired of the old decor anyway, so he decided to change the style.

Bella was knocked away, but he didn't care. He just watched the drama between Blake and the others as a spectacle.

But this is different; it's a matter of face.

Regulus shifted his gaze from Bella, across the ruins, to Rodolphus beside the doorframe.

"Rodolphs," he called out, his tone as natural as when he called Bella his cousin, "you should be grateful that I'm thinking of you."

Rodolphus's eye twitched too.

I should be grateful to you?

“Bella has had a lot on her mind about the Black family,” Regulus said. “I’ll take care of these things from now on, so she can focus on taking care of the Lestrange family.”

After he finished speaking, he glanced at Bella, then looked back at Rodolphus: "By the way, the Black family will cover the damages caused to the Lestrange family tonight. As for the cost of repairing the banquet hall, name your price."

Rodolphus stood by the door frame, his mouth opening and closing briefly.

He wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say.

What the hell is wrong with the Blake family?

Orion, standing behind the barrier, raised his eyebrows slightly upon hearing Regulus's words.

He was a little surprised.

This kid has this skill?

Fighting is one thing, but he'd never seen Regulus use such verbal skills before.

Sirius stood against the wall, his lips twitching upwards as he tried to hold it in, but after two seconds he couldn't keep it up and the corners of his mouth still turned up.

Just now, Regulus was reminiscing and expressing gratitude, and he felt something was off.

Recall my foot, he knew perfectly well who Regulus was.

Now it seems, just as expected.

The memories are fake, the warmth is fake, it's all just a setup, all for the sake of that one sentence: "Have a child."

He didn't know what the problem was with having children, but in Bella's case, it just felt out of place.

want to laugh.

Regulus's self-light withdrew from Rodolphus and fell back on Bella's face.

"Cousin," he said, his tone unchanged from the beginning, "be a good Mrs. Lestrange. We're still siblings. I'll come to see you if anything happens."

He took a step forward, stepping on the gravel with a crunch.

"Don't worry about the Blake family's affairs, and don't meddle in my affairs either."

Bella stood on the pile of rubble, her expression completely blank, only silence remaining.

She simply stood there looking at Regulus, her eyes barely moving.

She knew, of course, that every word Regulus said was meant to provoke her; it was all sweet talk, but daggers were hidden beneath.

But she also understood that Regulus's meaning was clear: after this fight, the winner would have the final say, and the loser would shut up.

If you win, you can meddle in the Black family's affairs as you please. If you lose, you can live a peaceful life as Mrs. Lestrange from now on and stop interfering in the Black family's affairs.

Even if she denies it, if she loses the fight, the people present will admit it for her.

If she can't beat him tonight, her word will no longer count in matters concerning the Blake family.

Ultimately, we still have to fight.

She certainly didn't think she would lose.

It's a fact that we can't beat him with conventional tactics.

She stared at Regulus for a long time, then said, "Regulus."

Her voice was soft: "You know, I've never been serious, have I?"

Regulus looked at her, a very slight twitch at the corner of his mouth: "Yes, cousin, I know."

His tone held a hint of anticipation: "So?"

Bella didn't say anything more. She raised her wand slightly, the tip pointing downwards towards the ground.

Magic emanated from her, but it was completely different from before.

A layer of dark mist spread up her wrist, down her arm, to her shoulder, to her neck, and to her face.

Her pupils deepened in the dark mist, turning from brown to almost black, the edges of her irises appearing as if soaked in ink.

The air has changed too.

Everyone present simultaneously felt their breathing become heavier, as if something was pressing on their chest.

There was a new smell in the air, rotten and cloying, like something wafting from a coffin that hadn't been opened in a long time.

Bella stood on the pile of rubble, dark mist seeping from her body and flowing down the hem of her skirt.

When you touch the gravel under your feet, the surface of the gravel is darkening and turning black, as if something is corroding them from the inside.

She tilted her head slightly, looked at Regulus, and parted her lips a little.

"My dear cousin," she said softly, "don't worry, I won't kill you."

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