Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 313 Extreme Operations

As Voldemort approached, Regulus made a decision: to reclaim what was inspired by the darkness.

The magic emanating from his body, with a grayish texture, enveloped him.

This act was enough in front of Bella, but to continue pretending to be corrupted by the creator's products was gambling that Voldemort's eyesight was failing.

His eyesight is incredibly sharp.

Regulus submerged his consciousness into the mental space, opening the isolation zone of the containment chamber.

The gray substance flows back along the channels set by the filter layer, peels off from the magic, recedes from under the skin, and is collected into the isolation zone and sealed off.

He slowed down a bit, not too fast, about three seconds, as a sign of respect for the product manufacturer.

I've used what you gave me, and now I'm putting it away. I don't mind; I'm just done using it.

After the gray residue faded completely, the expression on his face immediately became serious.

Those cracked expressions and arrogant eyes from before, unlike his smile, were all an act. There was no need to gradually pull back; there was no transition. He went straight back to his original state.

Calm, upright, restrained, and a touch of pride would be just right.

He was twelve years old when he beat Bellatrix Lestrange to a pulp with a gift from her master and burned down her estate.

You've done such a good job, you should be proud, even if the opponent is Voldemort.

But pride doesn't mean rudeness.

This is the actual leader of the pure-blood circle of interests, the manipulator of most of Britain's underworld politics, and the highest decision-maker in the camp to which the Black family currently stands.

I've thought about the wording. I won't call him "master," that's what Death Eaters call him. And I won't call him "sir," that's too low.

He lowered his head slightly.

Politeness, the social etiquette expected of a leader, and the upbringing of the Black family heir.

I acknowledge your status and therefore am being polite, but I am merely being polite.

Voldemort stopped about four or five meters in front of him.

Bella lay on the gravel between them, her chest heaving, her lips moving, her eyes rolling unconsciously in their sockets; she was no longer conscious.

Voldemort didn't look at her; he looked at Regulus.

In the center of the dark red iris, a vertical pupil slowly moved from Regulus's face to his hand, from his hand to his wand, and from his wand back to his face.

He watched as the last trace of gray faded from Regulus's body, and watched as that face instantly returned to normal upon seeing him, without hesitation, without transition, like turning the page.

silence.

The fiery beast remained silent in the distance, its roars muffled into low rumbles. The three giant beasts huddled together in a corner, curled up in a ball.

Voldemort spoke, his voice soft, but each word clear enough, as if something was whispering in his ear, the breathy tone carrying an inappropriate warmth.

He made no introductions because it wasn't necessary. Voldemort didn't need to introduce himself to anyone, and Regulus didn't need to be introduced either.

If an introduction were needed, this wouldn't be the scene.

The voice slipped from his extremely thin lips: "Regulus."

Regulus looked up, met those dark red vertical pupils for a moment, then bowed slightly: "Your Excellency."

"Your Excellency" is a respectful term used to address someone in a superior position, acknowledging their status while maintaining one's own independence.

Voldemort's eyes were devoid of temperature; neither cold nor hot.

Indifference has emotions, but the direction is negative. There isn't even a negative number in his eyes; it's zero.

Perhaps it's related to those eyes; snakes' vertical pupils are biologically structured this way, without emotional projection, only observation.

He said nothing about the battle just now, about Regulus's crushing of Bella, or about the release and withdrawal of Dark Enlightenment.

His voice was still so soft; he only asked one question: "Is it not working well?"

Regulus understood; Voldemort was asking why he had put it away.

The things I gave you are of course useful. If you put them away, then they're not useful, and the problem lies with you.

Regulus's expression remained unchanged; he intended to tell the truth.

Lying is the stupidest thing to do. In front of Voldemort, you should tell the truth if you can, because the truth can withstand any verification.

"It works very well," he said sincerely, without a hint of guilt. "However, it's not very convenient to take it back to Hogwarts when I have to go back to school after the holidays."

Voldemort did not react.

silence.

It was very brief, a little over a breath, less than two breaths.

Regulus knew what was going to happen next.

I've been waiting since the moment Voldemort walked in; Legilimency, Voldemort will definitely use it.

He needed to ascertain the extent of the Dark Inspiration's corruption, to see if Dumbledore had left anything in his mind, and to know the mental strength and loyalty of this Black heir.

These things cannot be observed from the outside; we must go inside to see for ourselves.

Voldemort looked into his eyes, and the next moment, without any warning, he just looked and then came in.

The brain shut-off procedure was activated instantly.

Betelgeuse shines deep within my consciousness; the spiritual space built upon star-track meditation, every layer of structure constructed over the past year and a half, was prepared for this moment.

He anticipated the invasion and was prepared to be violently torn apart.

Pain, tearing, mental barriers shattered—Voldemort could have easily done that, but he didn't.

An extremely thin, cold needle pierced directly through the outermost layer of mental protection.

There was no pain, no tearing, no violent breakthrough.

The way the needle was inserted could even be described as gentle, carrying a subtle hint that made him want to cooperate, like someone gently pushing his back, causing him to subconsciously take a step forward.

This kind of suggestion is a technique in itself; the brutal mind control will immediately put the target on guard and make them fight back with all their might.

Voldemort's method was to make him relax for a moment before he could resist.

That one moment is enough; for an ordinary wizard, that moment of relaxation is the door opening wide.

Perhaps some techniques of the Imperius Curse were incorporated into the tip of the needle; the method of bypassing consciousness and acting directly on the will has been refined to a more subtle level.

Instead of controlling behavior, they loosen their defenses.

It's also possible that no techniques are used at all, it's just pure willpower crushing. At Voldemort's level, the mind itself may carry its own suggestion.

Regulus dared not relax, and the Occlusive Technique was fully activated the instant the needle touched the surface.

The stars deep within consciousness operate steadily in the mental space, and the light of Betelgeuse shines steadily and constantly in the core area of ​​consciousness.

The core area is sealed off.

The transmigrator's complete memories, the principles and progress of light magic, all the details of space magic, the method of summoning the guardian deity and the form of the star kite, and the development and usage records of the Disintegration Spell.

The true nature of star trail meditation: each star in Orion is a reflection of his soul, Betelgeuse erupts, Betelgeuse guards, Betelgeuse is sharp, and the three stars of the belt maintain order.

Knowing Voldemort's entire future, the number of Horcruxes, their hiding places, and his ultimate demise.

Also, his entire assessment of the situation, his choice of path, the things he actually talked about with Dumbledore, and his connection with Grindelwald.

These things were buried deep inside, layer upon layer.

The three barriers extend inward, each using the movement of star trail meditation as its framework.

Advanced techniques of Occlumency involve folding the mind itself, making those memories discontinuous in spatial topology. Once you flip through this layer, the entrance to the next layer is not in the place you expected.

Extreme maneuver.

Maintaining this structure in the face of Voldemort's Legilimency was like losing one's spirit at the speed of a reservoir opening all its sluice gates simultaneously.

But he can't completely seal it off; sealing it off would mean resistance, and resistance would mean hiding something.

If Voldemort were to touch an impenetrable wall, his first thought would be that there's something shady behind it.

He left space on the surface of consciousness; the framework of the brain occlusion technique had already been arranged, deciding which things to put on the outside so they could be easily discovered, and which to keep behind.

Everything placed on the outer layer is real.

Forging memories might be possible, I haven't tried it, but I can't gamble on it in front of Voldemort.

False thoughts can't hold up; the texture is wrong, the emotional patterns are wrong, and the connections between memories are wrong.

Being exposed as a fraud is more dangerous than not showing anything at all; it's like directly telling Voldemort that this twelve-year-old wizard is trying to deceive him.

So it's all true, just placed in a specific position.

Voldemort's needle went in.

He has a clear goal: what exactly has the Dark Inspiration become within Regulus?

He saw it.

The structure of the containment chamber is fully displayed on the outer layer, with gray material stored in the isolation area, and a filter layer separating the contaminated and usable parts.

The observation window is open, and the virtual personality is working inside, with research results being output through a magic conduit.

The design of the isolation zone is very clear: he can cut off the input at any time.

In the worst-case scenario, we can destroy the containment chamber along with everything inside. The cost will be a portion of our consciousness, but we must never allow contamination to touch our core consciousness.

The Dark Inspiration sent by Voldemort, that meticulously crafted mental weapon designed to gradually corrupt and ultimately assimilate the user, was dismantled by this twelve-year-old wizard.

Confined in a transparent cage, used as research material, like an alchemy laboratory.

There was no sign of it getting out of control, no sign of being rejected, and no sign of it being completely absorbed.

It simply sits there, stored as a usable tool, to be taken out when needed and put back when not.

The safety measures are extremely comprehensive, with multiple layers of protection, and even the polluting impurities have been properly sorted and disposed of.

Voldemort's needle lingered there for a short while.

Then Regulus felt it touch something else, his immediate, real-time perception of Voldemort's magic.

There is visual feedback, but no feedback from the perception of magic, creating a contradictory and disjointed feeling.

Beyond his magical perception, a tremor deep within his bones, an instinctive response at the level of his soul, revealed a wizard far beyond his comprehension.

This perception is completely real, happening right now, without any embellishment.

Voldemort could glean several things from this. Regulus's magical perception was extremely keen, allowing him to accurately discern the state of suppression, even describing the manner and texture of the suppression.

Moreover, this memory contains vigilance, pressure, rapid analysis and calculation, judgment of one's own safety, and speculation about Voldemort's intentions.

There was no fear.

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