Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 350 A Kind Roommate

The dormitory was very quiet.

Outside the window is the bottom of Black Lake, where several luminous jellyfish are slowly drifting past the glass, their transparent, umbrella-shaped bodies contracting and expanding, creating rings of tiny phosphorescent light.

Further away, the shadow of a giant squid slid past the window, its tentacles lazily trailing behind it, causing the seaweed to sway gently.

The shimmering green light from the windows mingled with the glow of the fireplace, illuminating the four four-poster beds, and the dark green curtains gleamed with a somber sheen.

Alex walked to his bedside, his shoulders finally slumped, and he let out a long sigh.

The scene just now was a bit too much for him; too many people, too many eyes, too much eagerness that he wasn't good at handling.

Now that he's back in his dorm and the door is closed, all those stares are blocked from the outside, and he finally feels relieved.

Hermes stared at Regulus for a while, then walked straight to his bedside, and without even taking off his robe, he threw himself onto the bed. The curtains swayed slightly, and the bed made a dull thud.

He just lay there, his hands on his stomach, staring at the top of the curtains, motionless like a corpse.

Alex glanced at him, then turned back. Just as he was about to speak, something flicked off Regulus's shoulder out of the corner of his eye.

Dark red, palm-sized, with eight legs spread out in the air, it landed on the floor with a very soft thud, and then trotted towards the desk.

Balu ran under the desk, his four front legs gripping the seam between the two drawers, while his four hind legs pushed against the bottom, pulling the drawer open a crack and squeezing his whole body inside.

A series of clicking sounds came from inside the drawer, mixed with the rustling of scraping wood, as if something was being checked, or its territory was being confirmed to still be there.

A few seconds later, Baruch emerged again, hooked his front legs around the edge of the drawer, and pushed the drawer back shut with his body.

Then it turned and ran towards the bed, crawling along the sheet to the pillow, curling up its eight legs into a dark red ball of fur.

Regulus watched its actions but ignored them.

Baruch already slept in his bed in Grimmauld Place, so he didn't need to put it back in the drawer at Hogwarts. Since it didn't shed any fur, he could leave it wherever he wanted.

Alex's gaze followed Baruch around for a moment, and only when he saw that Baruch was curled up on the pillow did he come back to his senses and whisper to him, "Hey, Baruch, long time no see."

Baruch moved, his two front legs sticking out from under his body and waving in Alex's direction, whether it counts as a greeting or not, before retracting them.

Alex smiled, probably preoccupied with something, and didn't notice Baruch's change in expression.

Regulus took off his cloak and hung it on the bedpost, walked to the desk and sat down, turning to look at Alex.

He had already figured it out; Alex had something to say.

I'd been holding it in since the train journey, all day long, from London to Scotland, from the carriages to the halls to the common rooms, but I hadn't found a suitable moment to speak.

Alex walked over and stood beside him, his tone unhurried but serious: "During the holidays, the Rozier family had some visitors."

Regulus raised an eyebrow, signaling him to continue.

He knew Alex was referring to the main branch.

Alex's family doesn't refer to themselves as the Rozier family; that title is reserved for the main branch. For a side branch to claim to be the Rozier family is considered improper.

That's not surprising.

At the Christmas dinner, Signas Rozier specifically spoke with him about Alex and thanked him in person.

The Rozier family used Alex as a flexible and measured link between Black and Rozier.

"The man who came was named Finn Rozier," Alex said. "He's the head of the family's nephew, in his early thirties, in charge of external communications for the main branch. He talked to my father for an entire afternoon."

Regulus nodded.

He had heard of the name Finn Rozier. He wasn't part of the core decision-making team, but he could represent the head of the family on business trips. He was influential enough, but not too formal. This arrangement was quite tactful.

Alex continued, "He said he could arrange a better position for my father, in the International Department of Magical Cooperation, an administrative post, handling records and filing."

Regulus nodded again.

Alex's father works as an administrative officer in the Department of Magical Traffic Management at the Ministry of Magic. His job is to maintain the Floo network and approve broom registrations. It's a low-ranking position with a modest salary and mundane tasks, but it's a stable job.

Feint's career path is a level higher than his current one, with a significantly better salary and a wider range of opportunities.

Alex hesitated for a moment, but then spoke up: "He also talked about what happened at the Christmas dinner during the holidays."

After he finished speaking, he looked at Regulus and found that his expression had not changed.

Alex seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, or perhaps a sigh of relief itself.

Regulus didn't deny it, which meant he admitted it; what Finn said was true, Regulus really did hit someone and burn down their house.

Regulus looked up at him, and Alex continued, "They talked about the dinner party first, and then they said it was because I was working for you that they mentioned the transfer."

"Fan's attitude was quite frank," he added, "He put everything out in the open, without beating around the bush."

Regulus's lips twitched slightly.

Indeed, open and honest.

There are no veiled hints here; the logic is laid bare.

We are willing to help your family because you are close to the Black family heir, regardless of blood ties or personal relationships.

But this frankness itself is a strategy, packaging goodwill as pragmatism, so that the Alex family doesn't feel like they're being given charity, and so that Regulus can't find fault with it.

Regulus looked at him, his tone calm, and asked, "How did you know you should come and talk to me?"

Alex was a little embarrassed: "My father said so."

"The night Finn left, my father sat at the dinner table for a long time, and then said to me, 'When I get back to school, I'll talk to you about it.'"

He looked at Regulus: "He didn't explain why, but I understand what he meant."

Alex finished speaking and looked at Regulus.

Regulus pointed to the chair next to him: "Sit."

Alex moved a chair over and sat down.

He had barely settled in when another person appeared behind him.

Hermes had somehow gotten out of bed and, like a ghost, silently stood behind Alex, his eyes somewhat wooden, staring blankly at Regulus.

His face was expressionless, his eyelids were half-closed, and it was hard to tell whether he was still half asleep or lost in thought; he just stood there.

Regulus ignored him; the guy was out of sorts all day, who knows what he did at home during his vacation.

He looked at Alex and asked, "What's your family's opinion?"

Alex shook his head, his tone earnest: "My father sent me to ask you what you think."

Regulus understood that his family had their own ideas.

They sent Alex not to ask for advice, but simply to let him know their family's stance.

We tend to accept it, but you are the cause of this matter, and we respect your opinion.

This is a statement that we did not make the decision on your behalf, although your consent is not required.

Alex's father was a man with survival wisdom.

He spent over a decade at the very bottom of the Ministry of Magic, never taking sides, never standing out, just reading the newspaper and sighing. After sighing, he would go eat. But when it was time to make a statement, he knew what to do.

Regulus didn't care about these things, but since Alex had asked, he would just say a few words as a way of expressing his opinion.

"Your father's current position, the Department of Magical Traffic Management, doesn't involve anything important."

He looked at Alex: "It doesn't matter, nobody's watching."

Alex listened, and Hermes, whether he listened or not, seemed to be listening.

"You've seen the situation too." Regulus's voice was flat, and he was saying things that anyone with a little knowledge could see.

"The war hasn't come yet, but it will come sooner or later. When that time comes, key departments will be the first to be infiltrated."

Those sitting in those positions are the first to express their opinions, and once they do, they are targeted, with both sides trying to win them over.

"Your father's current position is secure; no one's pulling him down, no one's watching him. Even if a fight breaks out, no one's going out of their way to cause trouble for an officer in charge of broom registration."

Alex kept his head down.

Regulus's words were almost exactly the same as those of his father.

His father worked as a low-level clerk in the Ministry of Magic for over a decade. No one fawned over him, no one threatened him, and his name was never on the promotion list.

But over the years, many officials of higher rank than him have gotten into trouble, been transferred, demoted, or gotten involved in murky matters and disappeared without a trace.

His father still sits behind that old table, going to work on time every morning and returning home on time every evening.

He's not stupid. He knows that position doesn't make money, but at least it's safe. The problem is, now someone's brought a ladder over. If he just nods, his life can be improved.

Regulus glanced at him, knowing what he was thinking, and then said, "But don't worry too much."

Alex looked up.

"The Rozier family didn't come here to make enemies. They won't push people into a fire pit. An administrative position in the International Department of Magical Cooperation is more respectable than what I have now."

That's not a powerful department, not the Department of Mysteries, not the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It's not a position within the Ministry of Magic's internal factionalism.

He twitched his lips slightly: "The Rozier family is here to cultivate relationships. They want your family to be better off and to have a closer relationship with the Black family, nothing more."

If we put your father in a risky position, and something happens when war breaks out, then this act of kindness will become a liability. The Rozier family won't do something so foolish.

Mature people leave room for others in every step they take. The Rozier family has lived for hundreds of years, so they still have this sense of propriety.

Alex was silent for a moment, thinking.

Acceptance meant that their family had officially entered the main branch of Rozier's network of relationships, and their bond with Regulus had deepened.

Father's job will be better, more respectable, and his income will improve. Mother will no longer have to haggle with stall owners in Diagon Alley over the price of fabric.

If they don't accept, the Rozier family won't make things difficult for them. If they politely decline, they'll decline; the main branch won't turn against them because of a branch's refusal.

But the signal didn't go well; the people around Blake wouldn't even accept the goodwill. Was it because they thought it wasn't enough, or were they considering something else?

The Rozier family will have many thoughts, and other families who are observing the situation may also have many thoughts.

As for Regulus, Alex knew him well; even if he didn't accept it, he wouldn't think much of it, and he wouldn't bother with such a trivial matter.

But Alex's father didn't understand Regulus. His judgment was that they should accept the offer; it would be good for everyone, and it would be unreasonable for neither side to refuse.

He looked up at Regulus and said earnestly, "Thank you, Regulus."

Regulus waved his hand, shook his head slightly, and said nothing more.

Alex stood up, moved the chair back, walked to his bed, and began packing his luggage.

Regulus turned his head and looked at Hermes.

Hermes was still standing there, his eyes fixed on Regulus's face. He hadn't moved at all while talking to Alex.

Regulus gestured to him with his eyes, indicating that he should speak.

Hermes spoke without the slightest hesitation: "My father told me to stop practicing black magic and follow you, to see how you practice, what you practice, and how you make judgments under pressure, and to remember everything."

The tone was a complete repetition, every word was Abros Murseb's original statement, without any embellishment, just poured out directly.

Regulus looked at him, almost wanting to laugh.

This guy completely abandons thinking; he does whatever others tell him to do, saving himself the trouble of understanding and processing the information, and directly handing over the raw data, making him extremely efficient.

Regulus could understand Abros's thoughts.

Unlike other pure-blood families, the Mullsab family is not good at politics, not enthusiastic about socializing, and has no interest in family marriages. What they care about is magic itself.

The most powerful heads of the Murseb family throughout history were all genuinely skilled in magic.

Abros probably learned of his progress in magic through some means, perhaps news after the Christmas dinner, or perhaps Hermes relaying it to him.

It's hard to say exactly how much, but it was at least enough to make a patriarch of the Murseb family make the decision to have his son stop practicing black magic and follow him.

As for Hermes, Regulus never hid anything from him.

He didn't shy away from Hermes' presence when practicing magic, and he brought him along during training sessions and didn't hold back when giving guidance.

He never stopped us from watching or learning whatever we wanted.

"I didn't stop you," Regulus said casually.

Hermes shrugged, indicating that he knew he was just repeating his father's words, and once he finished repeating them, the task was complete.

Then he asked his second question, a direct approach, without any preamble: "So how did you train?"

Regulus looked at him and thought about it seriously.

How did you train?

This is the first time someone has asked this question.

From birth, he possessed an exceptionally keen sense of magic, far exceeding the range and precision of ordinary people's perception.

He has an innate modeling system in his mind; any basic magic will be automatically broken down into structure, parameters, and operational logic.

He started practicing magic control at the age of five, and could cast the Ironclad Spell without a wand before starting school.

I started practicing Star Trail Meditation last year, and I've been simultaneously strengthening my magic, spirit, and body for a year and a half.

In addition, the scientific knowledge and rational thinking he brought from his previous life were integrated into every aspect of his learning magic.

How do you explain these things?

Can't say.

He looked at Hermes and said the same words he had spoken to Sirius: "Think."

Hermes blinked. "...Thinking?"

"Yes," Regulus nodded, his tone relaxed: "Think clearly before you practice magic. What are you practicing? Why are you practicing it this way? Why are these spells like this?"

What's the difference between having them in your hands and having them in someone else's? Besides the magic itself, is there anything else?

Think things through before you act; it's more effective than blindly practicing a hundred times.

Technically correct, but it's like saying nothing at all. Magic manipulation, on the other hand, can be taught; it's not a rare thing.

He taught Alex, and he taught Lily; one more Hermes wouldn't make a difference. This is a fundamental skill with endless applications.

Hermes nodded thoughtfully, then frowned.

think?

Do you have to think before you practice magic?

He was seriously considering how to think about it.

After about five seconds, his eyes gradually went blank, his brows slowly relaxed, his pupils lost focus, and he stood there as if he had frozen.

He gave up thinking.

Alex watched from the side, his lips twitching as he suppressed a laugh.

Hermes snapped out of his reverie, noticed Alex watching him, a hint of impatience flashed across his face, he snorted, turned and went back to his bed, collapsing headfirst into the floor, causing the curtains to sway twice more.

The dormitory was quiet for a while.

Alex continued packing his luggage, Hermes lay on the bed staring at the top of the curtains, and Baruch curled up in a ball beside his pillow.

The shimmering light of the Black Lake outside the window moved slowly across the ceiling. A glowing jellyfish drifted past the window, its pale blue light circling the dormitory room before dimming.

After a while, the door was pushed open.

Avery walked in with a fascinating expression on his face: excitement, satisfaction, and a hint of lingering enjoyment. He radiated the warmth of someone who had just accomplished a momentous mission.

He plopped down on his bed, the wooden planks creaking, looked at Regulus, opened his mouth, and had a lot to say.

I've wanted to say it ever since I got on the train, but I haven't had the chance because people keep bothering me. Now that I'm back in my dorm, I can finally say it.

He went to Place Grimmauld.

During the Christmas holidays, his father, Old Cuthbert, took him there; the heir of the Cuthbert family formally paid a visit to the Black family.

He wore a new robe, a silver brooch, and even his hair was styled like an adult's.

Upon arriving at number 12 Grimmauld Place, the house-elves opened the door, and Patriarch Black received them in the drawing room. They drank tea and discussed Wizengamot's proposal and this year's Pureblood League Spring Meeting.

Everything was formal, everything was proper.

But Regulus was not home.

He took a deep breath, ready to speak.

Then his expression slowly changed; the excitement faded, his lips pursed, and his face was filled with sorrow.

“During the holidays,” he looked at Regulus, his tone accusing, “my father took me to Grimmauld Place.”

Regulus looked up at him.

"But you weren't home."

Avery's eyes were like those of a dog left at home by its owner without being taken out for a walk.