Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 366 Freedom Above the Clouds

Three hundred kilometers per hour, five hundred, eight hundred.

The armored shell hummed, and the sound of airflow friction changed from a low, muffled thud to a sharp, piercing hiss.

However, there was no high-frequency vibration like last time. After the structural changes, the aerodynamic load distribution was more reasonable, and the shell could withstand it.

Regulus began to rise.

The cliffs seemed to shrink beneath our feet, while the sea stretched out below, growing ever wider, the white foam of the waves shrinking into thin lines.

one thousand.

The air ahead began to accumulate, moving too fast for the air to make way.

Compression ripples appeared, visible to the naked eye, layer upon layer, stacked in front of the aircraft. Light was deflected when it passed through the ripples, making the outside scenery appear shaky.

He continued adding.

The ripples became denser and tighter, and the walls of air pressed thicker and thicker.

The outer shell of the Ironclad Curse began to shake, approaching the transonic speed range. Local airflow had exceeded the speed of sound on the surface of the outer shell, and the resulting shock waves repeatedly struck the shell, causing the entire structure to vibrate.

Shock wave drag.

He increased the sweep angle of the wing surfaces, adjusted the magic, and pulled the two sides of the wing surfaces back a few degrees, increasing the leading edge sweep angle from a dozen degrees to more than thirty degrees.

With a smaller frontal area, the air compression effect is distributed over a larger wingspan, reducing shock wave drag.

The nozzle was pushed to its limit, and the fiery output was maximized.

The orange-red jet became brighter and more powerful, trailing a long fiery tail behind it. The flame patterns changed from orange-red to dark red, and the temperature soared.

The entire aircraft surged forward, and the next moment, the compression ripples were pierced.

The accumulated air explodes from the nose and leading edge of the wing, spreading in conical white mist in all directions, a Mach cone, a visualization of shock waves in supersonic conditions.

Sonic boom.

The shockwave exploded outwards from around the aircraft.

After breaking the sound barrier, everything became quiet. The wind stopped; he was faster than the wind, and the wind couldn't catch him.

The Ironclad Curse's outer shell stopped shaking. In pure supersonic mode, the shock wave became an oblique shock wave that followed the surface of the outer shell and no longer struck the shell. The aerodynamic load actually decreased.

The world has become cleaner.

He watched the sea rushing past his feet, everything on the surface turning into blurry gray-blue stripes.

Fast, really fast, speed erases all details, the world is reduced to colors, directions, and himself.

This feeling made the corners of his mouth involuntarily turn upwards.

Regulus continued to rise.

The clouds above, gray and heavy, squeezed him in the middle along with the sea.

As they passed through the clouds, the moisture hit the outer shell of the Ironclad Curse, obscuring their vision and making it impossible to see anything.

In a second, it was out.

Above the clouds, the sky deepened, becoming a dark, profound, and pure blue, with a faint hint of purple at the edges.

With the sun hanging behind them, unobstructed, its light shone directly, making the armored sculpted shell shine, and the leading edge of the wings reflected a white light.

Below me stretched an endless sea of ​​clouds, white, surging, and shimmering with gold edges in the sunlight.

The clouds are undulating, with hill-like ridges and valley-like depressions. The wind blows the surface of the clouds into layers of ripples, making it look like a slowly flowing white desert from above.

The distant horizon curved into a visible arc.

The Earth is round.

At that altitude and speed, he saw it.

Regulus began to slow down.

With the thrust reduced and the nozzle direction turned downwards, the fiery orange jet counteracted gravity, slowing the aircraft down from supersonic to subsonic speeds, and then to hovering, steadily suspended above the clouds.

Quiet.

At this altitude, there is almost no wind; only extremely thin air currents pass by from the side.

Baruch emerged fully from the inner bag, his eight amber eyes wide open, staring at the sea of ​​clouds below and the deep blue sky above.

Its chelicerae opened slightly but didn't close completely; they remained half-open until, after a while, it clicked.

Spiders have never seen anything like this.

It drawled out the syllable: "...good-looking."

Regulus looked at everything before him.

He took a deep breath; the air was thin and cold, and it stung his lungs a little, but he didn't care.

free.

This word has never been so specific.

He was above the clouds, with the whole world beneath his feet and the deep blue of space above him. The sun hung low in the west, its light filling his entire field of vision.

Nobody knows he's here.

There was no Voldemort, no pure-blood circle, no Hogwarts schedule, and no off-campus political maneuvering.

He was all alone, a spider, and a ball of raging fire, suspended between heaven and earth.

He stayed there for a long time.

The sea of ​​clouds slowly rolled beneath my feet. In some places, the clouds were thinner, and I could vaguely see the sea below, a grayish-blue color that seemed too far away to be real.

In some places, the clouds were so thick they formed small mountains, their tops bathed in golden sunlight while their sides cast deep gray shadows.

He turned the output of the Fiery Blaze to the lowest level, just enough to maintain hovering. Orange-red light flowed down from the nozzles beneath his feet, casting a small circle of light on the surface of the clouds.

The starry kite flew up at some point, its silvery-white light piercing through the clouds, looking especially beautiful against the golden light on the surface of the sea of ​​clouds.

It circled him once, let out a cry, and its voice carried far and wide at that altitude, unobstructed by anything, clear and trembling.

A man, a spider, and a bird hang in the sky above the world.

The sun sank a little lower.

The sea of ​​clouds gradually turned from white-gold to orange-red, the blue of the sky deepened, and a very faint dark color appeared on the distant horizon.

Night has come chasing us from the other side of the earth.

He began to descend.

With increased firepower and thrust redirection, the aircraft flipped over, nose down, and swooped down from above the clouds.

The clouds rolled from my feet to my head, the dampness blurred my vision again, and then suddenly everything opened up.

The greyish-blue sea appeared, much darker than when we arrived. The sun shone above the clouds, and darkness was beginning to fall on the world below.

The cliffs are in the distance, and the Cornish coastline stretches out in a winding pattern, a mix of gray-blue and deep green, with waves crashing against the rocks and creating white foam.

He flew close to the water along the coastline for a while, then his speed dropped back to subsonic. The sea receded rapidly beneath his feet, and the waves were flattened by the airflow, leaving a white trail.

The seagulls rushed out of their nests on the cliff, startled by the gust of wind. They swayed a couple of times in the wind, then cried out, looking quite displeased.

Regulus swept past it so fast that the seagull couldn't even see what it was before he was already far away.

Pull up, slow down, descend towards the edge of the cliff, and land.

The Ironclad Curse's outer shell scattered into silver specks of light. Fiend Fire retracted into his palm, and the orange-red flames shrank beneath his skin and disappeared.

He stood on the grass, breathing heavily, his chest heaving a few times, and stretched his shoulders.

My legs felt a little weak. The Anti-G spell had taken a toll on my body at supersonic speeds, and my body was still under some strain.

But it's much better than last time. After catching my breath, my legs stopped shaking.

He grinned, a silent smile spreading across his face.

Baruch climbed from his shoulder to his head, his eight legs pawing at his hair, his chelipeds clicking and snapping in a crisp, urgent sound: "Sound! Faster! Beautiful! Again!"

Regulus reached over and lifted it off his head, placing it back on his shoulder: "Sound, quick, next time."

"Let's go see the professor."

As we walked back, it grew completely dark, and the sea in Cornwall turned from gray-blue to deep gray.

When they arrived at the open space to the north, Professor Sprout was still there.

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his hands were covered in mud. Over his robe, which had been relatively clean before, he had put on an apron, probably sent by Agnes, which was also covered in mud.

She dug several shallow trenches in the ground, exposing part of the root system. She used her fingers to make a final check along the direction of the roots, muttering to herself.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up at Regulus: "What are you doing out there? There were several noises just now."

"Tried a spell." Regulus's smile lingered, his tone casual.

The professor gave an "oh" and didn't even glance at him before landing back on the tree roots.

She waved: "Come and take a look."

Regulus crouched down beside her.

The professor pointed to a spot at the base of the tree, his fingertip lightly touching the bark: "The loop here is connected; it connected itself, better than I expected."

The cycle you rebuilt with the magic of nature is now considered your own by the root system, and it's expanding outwards.

She pointed to another spot: "But there's a problem here. The scab is crooked, so the magic will take a detour, making it inefficient."

I need to correct it, otherwise it might grow crooked further and further as it grows.

She stood up and patted the mud off her knees: "This tree is tough; it won't die."

She looked at the willow tree that had been hit by a beating, her gaze gentle.

Regulus stood up, glanced at the professor, then at the Whomping Willow, and then back at the professor.

"Professor," he said, his tone becoming more earnest, "could you take it back to Hogwarts? It'll be much better for you to keep it in your greenhouse than to expose it to the elements here, and it'll save you from having to travel to Cornwall all the time."

The professor turned to look at him, raised her eyebrows slightly, and then a smile appeared on her lips.

She knew Regulus was offering her a step, but she stepped on it comfortably.

Of course she wanted to take the tree back with her.

She spent the whole afternoon squatting there, and the more she looked at the tree, the more interesting she found it.

Its root system has a stronger self-repairing ability than most magical plants, and its magic circulation regeneration mode is also different, carrying a gentle attribute that she has never seen before.

It's probably a trace left by Regulus's natural magic.

"It'll be perfect to have it keep the one in the castle company."

The professor spoke in a light tone, clearly already thinking about how to arrange things.

She drew her wand; the wood looked old, with a few shallow scratches on its surface.

She raised her wand, her lips moved, and she chanted a long spell, her voice muffled and indistinct.

Magic flowed from the tip of the staff, like water, fine and dense, seeping into the soil around the Man-Beating Willow.

The soil began to loosen, retreating layer by layer from the outermost part of the root system, exposing the entire root system without damaging a single root.

Then the soil gathers and compacts around the roots, forming a complete soil ball that envelops the entire root system of the willow and the surrounding soil.

The earthen ball slowly rose up and floated in the air, with a diameter of about five meters. The trunk and branches extended from the top of the ball.

The willow branch swayed slightly, and the thinnest tip bent towards the professor, but did not lash out.

It may lack strength or simply not want to.

Sprout carried the ball of earth, guiding it with the direction of his wand, moving it with ease, as if he were carrying a slightly larger pot of flowers.

She gestured with her chin toward the exit: "Let's go."

Agnes appeared out of nowhere and watched as the professor floated the five-meter-long earthen ball through the air, her eyes shining.

"Professor Sprout," she caught up and walked beside me, "could you take a look at that Constant Temperature Charm for me next time you come?"

"Sure, sure," the professor replied as he walked. "Send a layout drawing of the greenhouse to Hogwarts. I'll take a look first, and we'll get right to work next time I come."

"Very good."

The two witches started chatting again, walking ahead with Regulus following behind.

Baruch, perched on his shoulder with his eight legs curled up, turned his head toward Professor Sprout's back, sizing her up.

The chelicerae clicked softly; the witch's aura made the spider feel comfortable.

Upon reaching the entrance to the plantation, Regulus and the professor bid farewell to Agnes.

Regulus put his hand on the professor's shoulder.

Snapped.

Hogwarts.

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