Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 343 Sirius Black: Thunderclap Gurus

"I mean," Sirius said, a hint of disbelief in his voice, pointing with his finger, "this is your pet? A spider?"

""

Regulus ignored him, stretched out his hand, palm up, and Baruch climbed out from his collar, down his shoulder and arm, into his palm, and then jumped onto the desk.

Eight dark red legs nimbly weaved between letters and ink bottles, bypassed a stack of letters, stepped over a quill pen, and climbed all the way to the middle of the table.

Then we continued forward until we reached the edge of the table near Sirius.

It stopped, placed its two front legs on the edge of the table, raised its upper body slightly, and opened and closed its chelipeds, making a clicking sound.

I don't know if it's a threat or a greeting.

It paced back and forth a few steps, its eight amber eyes scrutinizing Sirius from head to toe, before turning back to look at Regulus.

Regulus nodded slightly.

Baruch turned back to face Sirius, opened and closed his pincers twice more, and then uttered a short syllable: "...Baruch."

Sirius suddenly sat up straight, causing the chair to slide backward.

He stared at the palm-sized spider, then looked up at Regulus, then looked down at the spider again.

Did it speak?

James once said that there are talking spiders in the Forbidden Forest, some of them are huge, several meters long, and they live in groups deep in the forest.

But that was a giant spider. This one is the size of a palm, and it can talk?

He moved a little closer.

It was very different from the ordinary spider they kept in their dormitory. They were about the same size, about the size of a palm, but it looked completely different.

The color is wrong, the eyes are wrong, and the markings on the joints are wrong too. It doesn't look like a normal spider at all.

Not right.

Seeing Sirius staring at it, Baruch took two steps with its eight legs, spread its chelicerae wide, and made a series of clicking sounds before uttering a shorter syllable: "...food."

After saying that, it continued to wave its claws, as if gesturing something, probably thinking that the person in front of it was edible, but it had to ask first.

Then it turned and ran, its eight legs thumping across the table, climbing onto Regulus's arm, and darting back onto his shoulder, where it huddled beside his collar, its eight eyes still fixed on Sirius.

Sirius Black's eyes widened as it followed Regulus's gaze until the creature climbed onto Regulus's shoulder, at which point it slowly turned back.

His face was a mixture of sourness and speechlessness; his lips drooped and his brows were furrowed.

"You're quite the talker," he said, staring at Regulus. He paused, then added, "Just like you."

Regulus twitched the corner of his mouth.

A relaxed atmosphere spread, and the study quieted down for a moment.

Regulus spoke directly: "Did Father tell you?"

Sirius was still staring at him, something flashing in his gray eyes. After a long while, he nodded.

Regulus didn't press for details about what was said and nodded.

There was another period of silence.

"What's the next step?" Regulus asked.

Sirius was taken aback: "What do you mean?"

Regulus didn't reply; he just watched, his gaze calm.

Sirius frowned: "Practice magic."

Regulus shook his head slightly: "That's not what I'm asking. I mean, what are your plans next?"

Sirius fell silent.

He knew what Regulus was asking: whether he would ever return to this home.

He lowered his head and stared at his hands resting on his knees. There were a few shallow cuts on his knuckles from training, and a thin callus had formed on the side of his index finger.

He didn't speak, and remained silent for a while.

Then he looked up and spoke casually, his tone deliberately relaxed: "Regulus, what if I don't come back?"

Regulus's expression remained unchanged, and his tone was calm: "That's your problem."

Sirius looked at him without saying a word.

His expression was unusually serious, lacking his usual nonchalant disdain and stubbornness, and there was no anger in his gray eyes.

We just watch and wait.

He himself probably couldn't say what he was waiting for, but he was just waiting, waiting for Regulus to say something more.

Regulus looked at his face, and after a while, said again, "Very good."

Sirius frowned: "Pretty good?"

Regulus nodded: "That's good."

Sirius stared at him: "Are you serious?"

Regulus nodded again: "Seriously."

Sirius Black stopped talking.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling on a spot on the stack of letters on his desk, but he saw nothing in his eyes.

His mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts, recalling what Orion had said to him before.

In his father's study, with the fire in the fireplace, a few words dismantled and rearranged all the resistance and persistence he had believed in over the past two years.

Now Regulus says it's fine, that it's your business, which points in the same direction as what his father said back then.

He vaguely sensed that they didn't stop him, they never had.

No one stopped him when he chose Gryffindor, no one stopped him when he silently resisted at home, and no one stops him now that he wants to leave.

Perhaps they didn't care, or perhaps they supported him in taking the path he wanted to take, but no one ever truly stood in the middle of the road to prevent him from passing.

Regulus said it was fine, just like when he told him he wanted to go home, he was serious.

Sirius shrugged, his tone becoming lighter: "Okay."

There was another moment of silence.

Then he opened his mouth as if to ask something, but then paused.

He looked at Regulus, his expression neither serious nor casual: "Then we..."

Regulus glanced at him, his tone unchanged, and nodded: "You still have the surname Black, don't you?"

Sirius opened his mouth slightly, then closed it again.

Then he took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and let his gaze drift to the ceiling.

In the end, he only said, "Okay."

The atmosphere completely relaxed, and Sirius slumped back in his chair with his legs stretched out and crossed over the table legs.

He casually asked, "Where have you been these past few days?"

Regulus raised the corners of his mouth slightly: "Practice magic."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

Regulus is like that again. Every holiday he disappears for a few days, going somewhere who knows where. When he comes back he doesn't say anything, and if you ask him, he just tells you he's practicing magic.

They're already that powerful, isn't that enough?

He knew that the gap between him and Regulus was enormous.

But he refused to admit defeat.

He probably couldn't catch Regulus in a fight. Even if he was stubborn, he knew that a head-on confrontation was hopeless.

But magic isn't just about fighting; he had other ideas.

Transfiguration.

He has a talent for this; the advanced directions of Transfiguration are very broad, and Animagus is one of them.

He has already begun preparations.

Once he masters it, he can strike with Thunderous Gurus. Even if he can't defeat him, he's no less skilled in Transfiguration.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but smile.

Regulus had no idea what he was so pleased with, and didn't bother to ask.

Sirius stood up, his expression completely relaxed.

He didn't ask those questions today—the gray magic at the Christmas dinner, the green light emanating from the tip of the wand, whether Regulus was faking it or not.

Maybe he'll ask someday, but not today.

"I'm going to training." He looked at Regulus, asking if he wanted to come along.

Regulus ignored him.

Sirius clicked his tongue, turned and walked into the training room, the stone door closing behind him.

Regulus sat in Orion's chair for a few more moments, then stood up and walked toward his room.

Back in the bedroom, Baruch jumped off his shoulder and landed on the desk, looking up at him, his chelicerae opening and closing slightly. "...The giant spider..."

Regulus's lips curled into a slight smile: "Hmm, a giant spider."

Baruch clicked, spun around on the table, then crawled back up the edge of the table onto the pillow, curling himself into a fluffy, dark red ball.

In the evening, Walbuga and Orion returned.

Dinner started on time.

Inside the restaurant, the decor was the same as before, with a long table covered with a dark green tablecloth and candles burning neatly on silver candlesticks.

Tonight's menu includes roasted lamb chops with rosemary, mashed potatoes with black truffle, cream soup, bread rolls, butter, and a pot of hot tea.

The four men sat at the table, with Orion at the head of the table, Walbuga to his right, and Regulus and Sirius opposite him.

Regulus picked up his knife and fork, cut off a piece of lamb chop, took a bite, and looked up from his plate at Walbuga.

She was dressed impeccably as always, in a deep blue house robe with silver embroidery on the collar and cuffs, her hair was styled in a neat updo, and she wore earrings and pendants.

She was quiet tonight, but unlike the silence that followed the Christmas dinner.

At that time, she seemed more like someone who had been shocked and was in a daze, as if something had been taken away from her. Now that the daze has passed, only a kind of calm remains.

The mother calmed down, probably because the father had said what needed to be said and comforted her.

He had previously passed the buck to his father at the dinner table, but now it seems he handled it well.

Regulus thought about it and felt that this was the correct approach.

My father is experienced; we've been married for over twenty years, and he can handle these kinds of situations with ease.

He looked away, continued eating, and didn't think about it anymore.

Walbuga put down his knife and fork, picked up his teacup, took a sip, put it down, and looked at Regulus.

The way she looked at Regulus was different than before.

She used to look at her son with a light in her eyes.

That was the most prestigious medal the Black family could boast about, the pride she could show off to all the pure-blood ladies at the tea party, and the best offering she could make to the family's honor.

She looked at him as if she were looking at a mirror engraved with the Black family crest, a mirror reflecting the dignity of purebloods, the family legacy, and her own hard work.

The light has now dimmed.

Her gaze was still on him, but there was something else in it. She was still looking at him, but she was no longer sure what she was looking at.

Perhaps she's trying to find a new way to see her son, but hasn't found one yet.

Walbuga put down his teacup, his tone lacking its usual enthusiasm, and asked in a flat voice, "How is Cornwall?"

"It's very good," Regulus said, cutting a lamb chop and looking up at his mother. "Ms. Agnes has taken excellent care of me."

.

"Are you cold?" Walbuga asked again.

Regulus slowly shook his head: "The sea breeze in Cornwall is strong, but not cold."

Walbuga nodded, his tone finally showing some inflection, as if he were being critical, but he held back: "How was the food? Is her cooking good?"

Regulus patiently replied, "Yes, that's quite honest."

His answers were the same as before; he answered her questions gently and patiently, giving her the answers she wanted to hear.

Walbuga listened quietly to Regulus's reply, then nodded, picked up his teacup, and took another sip.

Regulus noticed the change, but didn't think much of it.

Just like the previous assessment, the father was appeased. The specifics of how he appeased him, what methods he used, and what he said were not his concern.

It worked well; my mother calmed down and stopped making a fuss. That's good.

Walbuga asked a few more questions, and Regulus answered them one by one, his tone always gentle and his manner always appropriate.

The mother and son chatted for a few minutes, talking about everyday things and random topics.

This time, however, Walbuga didn't insert any content about pureblood social interactions, family honor, or recent developments during the conversation.

She was just talking to her son, nothing more.

The dining table fell silent, save for the clinking of cutlery against the porcelain plates and the soft crackling of the burning candle wick.

Orion remained silent throughout, as did Sirius.

He kept observing, his eyes darting back and forth between Regulus and Volbuga.

Orion finished his last bite, put down his knife and fork, took a sip of tea, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and glanced at Regulus: "Finished eating? Come to the study."

Then he got up and left.

Regulus also put down his knife and fork: "Yes, Father."

He stood up and looked at Walbuga: "Mother, I'm going to the study."

Walbuga looked up and said softly, "Go."

Regulus nodded, then turned and left.

Sirius watched his figure disappear at the end of the corridor, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

They abandoned him again.

He curled his lip, his face full of disdain, stood up, and left.

Walbuga was the only one left in the restaurant.