Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 368 Dumbledore is really gone

At the top of the astronomical tower, the wind was strong; the north wind blew, and the crenellations made a mournful sound.

Regulus stood on the edge of the tower, his robes pressed against his body by the wind.

Looking down, most of the castle lights were off, with only a few windows still lit, probably because upperclassmen were working on their papers or a professor was working overtime.

The forbidden forest stretched out in the distance, a dark mass, its canopies gleaming silvery-gray in the moonlight, layer upon layer, reaching to the horizon.

The full moon, round and large, hung above the forbidden forest.

He glanced down.

From the side gate of the castle, several figures crouched down and slipped out, walking along the wall for a while before running onto the lawn.

They were too far away to see each other's faces clearly, but their body shapes and running styles were distinctive.

The one at the very front runs with an air of arrogance, taking long strides, swinging his arms wide, and occasionally turning his head to greet the people behind him. James Porter, even his running has an arrogant flair.

The one following closely behind had a relaxed pace, ran with a carefree air, and kept his hands in his robe pockets. Sirius Black, he never took his hands out of his pockets while running.

Behind him followed someone who looked exhausted, with heavy steps and slumped shoulders. It was Lupin. He hadn't changed yet, but he was already like this.

The last one, runs two steps, looks back once, runs two more steps, looks back once more, his head turns faster than his legs, Peter Pettigrew, like an owl.

It was quite a coincidence; he was causing trouble in the middle of the night, and so were they.

Of course they'll come out at this time; it's the same every full moon night—the full moon, the Whomping Willow, the Screaming Shack—it's an unchanging, fixed program.

Friendship and adventure are the two things the little wizard loves most.

James probably felt like the heroic leader of his squad, leading his brothers on a great secret mission.

Sirius probably thought this was one of the few things at Hogwarts worth staying up all night for.

Lupin probably didn't have much of a choice, and Peter probably regretted coming along but didn't dare to say it.

Regulus looked away, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

He looked down and estimated that the tower was about 70 or 80 meters high from the top to the ground. The night wind was blowing in from the side, making his robes flap loudly.

He took a step forward, stepping off the edge of the tower, using a flying spell to support his body, and drifted away into the distance.

The moonlight shone down from above, enveloping me in a silvery glow. The wind whistled past my ears, chilling me to the bone, yet comforting.

The lawn stretched out beneath my feet, the frosty ground reflecting the white light, and the Black Lake in the distance resembled a dark mirror, its surface reflecting a complete moon.

As we drew closer to the edge of the forbidden forest, the outlines of the tree canopies became clearer, and we could see the branches swaying in the wind.

I landed on the lawn at the edge of the forbidden forest, my foot crunching on the frosty ground.

nobody.

The four Gryffindors had long since run off; the direction of the Whomping Willow was pitch black, and they couldn't see anyone. They must have already disappeared inside.

At this time of day, most young wizards would be sleeping.

He should be sleeping, but he doesn't want to.

Regulus's lips twitched slightly.

He crossed the lawn and headed toward the forbidden forest.

At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, outside the range of the Anti-Apparition Charm, he sensed the line.

The boundaries are clear and distinct, marking the intersection of the castle space and the natural space.

The space on the castle side was heavy and imposing, possessing a certain ancient presence, like a silent giant, always watching his every move.

The giant doesn't speak or express its opinion, but its very existence is a form of pressure. Do anything under its gaze, and it will be watching, just watching.

On this side of the Forbidden Forest, the space is empty and free; space is just space, like the cliff edge of Cornwall, devoid of will and temper.

He stopped at the edge of the forbidden forest and gave it a try.

He raised his right hand, and magic surged outward from his fingertips, anchoring himself at the foot of the castle, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

The anchor point was stable, this end was fine, and then he pushed the other end toward the castle.

The will to protect is poured in, the spatial folding is activated, and it moves with the magic, pushing towards that boundary.

Upon reaching the boundary, the anchor point entered, and the castle's space accepted it.

Anchor points are used to fix spatial coordinates. They only serve as markers and do not change the properties of the space itself. Castles do not reject this.

But the moment the Guardian's Will reached the boundary line, he felt resistance; the castle's space peeled away the Guardian's Will.

You can't see anything visually, but you can clearly perceive it.

The protective will is a silvery-white layer wrapped around the passage, stabilizing it, ensuring its safety, and making those who pass through feel protected.

This silvery-white substance was scraped off layer by layer the moment it reached the boundary of the castle space.

There was no force, no impact, no resistance; it was simply swept away, like the wind blowing away dust.

The guardian's will peeled away from the outer wall of the passage, scattering into extremely fine silver fragments that floated twice in the air before extinguishing.

The framework of the passageway is still there, and the folded structure of the space is still supporting it, so geometrically it connects the Forbidden Forest to the castle.

However, the skeleton was not enveloped by a protective will, the inner walls of the passage were empty, and the exposed folded surfaces of the space were directly exposed.

It lasted less than a tenth of a second before the inner walls began to tremble. With nothing reinforcing the passage, its own elasticity began to rebound.

The opening at the other end of the castle collapsed first, and the folded surface rolled up from the edge to the middle, like a crumpled piece of paper unfolding itself.

Then the entire passage started to collapse from that end, crumbling back section by section until it reached the boundary line, at which point the Forbidden Forest side could no longer hold on.

He was still holding the anchor point in his hand when, snap, it shattered.

The silver speck of light swirled in the air, floated twice, and then disappeared.

He shook his fingers; they felt a little numb.

Let's try a different approach then.

Set the anchor point at the castle end as the receiving end, only receiving and not sending, while the Forbidden Forest end actively folds over to connect with the edge of the castle space.

In theory, the receiving end does not need to be supported by the guardian spirit. It only needs to mark a coordinate at the anchor point. The channel is initiated from this end, and all the work of supporting it is done at this end.

He pushed it, but the castle space gave no response whatsoever.

The coordinate signal of the anchor point went in, and the folded space surface touched the boundary of the castle, just like hitting a wall.

The wall is neither hard nor flexible; it simply doesn't move, doesn't cooperate, and doesn't respond.

Complete silence, not a sound.

He stopped trying, just as he had predicted.

Anchor points can be driven into the castle, spatial warp can be used, and the spatial network can also function. Within the castle's boundaries, all spatial methods are working normally.

Because these methods utilize the structure of space itself, they do not involve will.

Folding, anchoring, deformation, networking—these are all technical operations performed on space, and the castle allows them.

Anchor points are acceptable because they are tools; channels are not acceptable because they are extensions of will.

The only problem is the will.

A castle is a castle; no matter how bright, warm, or kind-hearted he may be, the castle will ignore him completely.

He dispersed the remaining magic and flexed his fingers.

No no no.

It can be opened outside the castle, but not inside. I'll remember that and talk about it later.

Anyway, he's not in a hurry to open the castle gates. If he really has to run away, he can just use Li Huofei.

When it's feasible in the future, we'll definitely make sure to open passageways all over the castle, with toilet doors leading directly to the principal's office.

Regulus stood on the boundary line, with the castle on one side and the Forbidden Forest on the other.

He exhaled, and white mist rose from his mouth, dissipating in the moonlight.

The moonlight stretched his shadow long, casting it on the withered grass, all the way to the roots of the first row of trees in the forbidden forest.

The woods were quiet. The wind rustled through the treetops for a while, then stopped.

Then he sensed that in the distance, dozens of meters away, someone was standing there, and he didn't know how long they had been standing there.

He turned his head.

Beside the old oak tree, Professor McGonagall, wrapped in a dark cloak, stood with her pointed hat outlining a distinct silhouette in the moonlight.

The wind blew her cloak backward, but she remained motionless, standing straight with her posture upright, her shoulders held firmly, and her hands crossed in front of her.

From a distance, I couldn't see his facial expression, but just by looking at his posture, I could sense his terrifying seriousness, making me wonder if I had done something I shouldn't have.

Regulus frowned slightly.

And so it happened again. The professor seemed to have been standing there for a long time, but she didn't let him notice until he finished on his end.

So what if you're really that good?

No wonder he was taught by Dumbledore, just like the old man.

What he just did was probably seen by everyone.

But then I thought, it's just spatial magic; Professor McGonagall taught me spatial transformation.

If a spatial passage is forced to conform to spatial deformation, it makes sense and is not wrong.

Go ahead and watch.

He adjusted his expression, straightened his robe, and walked towards the professor.

He didn't walk very fast, a distance of several dozen meters, more than half a minute, and when he reached the other side, he had already adopted a polite posture.

With his shoulders relaxed, chin slightly tucked, and eyes focused, he looked like a good student who happened to sneak out in the middle of the night instead of sleeping.

As he got closer, he could see the professor's expression clearly.

The eyes behind the glasses stared at him, sharp and piercing, the lips pressed into a thin line, looking very serious.

Regulus stopped three or four meters away from her and bowed slightly.

"Mr. Black," McGonagall's voice was clear and penetrating in the night wind, "it's curfew."

Regulus was respectful, nodded politely, and spoke in a steady tone, without the slightest hint of apprehension: "Professor."

McGonagall stared at him for a long time.

She wasn't at all surprised to see Regulus Black at the edge of the Forbidden Forest at this time.

She wouldn't treat Regulus as an ordinary little wizard; she knew what kind of person this kid was.

For most people, going out into the forbidden forest at night would be considered trouble, but for him, it's probably something legitimate.

But she was the strictest headmistress in all of Hogwarts. When she saw a young wizard breaking the rules and wandering around at night instead of sleeping, she didn't care who he was; curfew was curfew.

While I may be dissatisfied, I won't pursue the matter further, but I must show the proper attitude.

She just stared at him until Regulus lowered his head slightly, then she looked away without asking what he was doing or deducting any points.

The professor shifted his gaze from him to the direction of the "Hit-and-Beat Willow" in the distance.

Under the moonlight, the branches of the willow tree swayed gently, and the entrance to the tree hole below could be vaguely seen.

Several figures had already slipped inside, leaving only a few sets of footprints on the lawn. The frost had been trampled and was broken into pieces under the moonlight.

Regulus also looked in that direction.

Neither of them spoke.

The wind blew from the direction of the Forbidden Forest, causing the hem of McGonagall's cloak to flutter backward.

After a while, McGonagall spoke up: "Sirius's Transfiguration skills have improved very quickly."

His tone was different from before; the sternness had subsided, and his voice was slightly softer.

Regulus's lips curled up slightly.

Professor McGonagall said so, so it seems that guy has indeed made great progress, but he didn't brag to him about it.

Sirius initially wanted to become stronger because he was beaten by him.

Later, he spoke a few words to Sirius about power and choice.

Later, he found his own path in transfiguration.

Now it might be to show off, to win, or for something else.

No matter the reason, as long as the child is willing to improve, that's fine.

"Sirius has gone to a lot of trouble for you."

Regulus spoke naturally, with a hint of gratitude. He himself might not have paid much attention to it, but the words had that quality as soon as they left his mouth.

McGonagall turned her head, saw his expression, and a slight smile crossed her face as well. The corners of her mouth curved upwards, but the smile vanished in the blink of an eye.

Regulus looked up at her: "Professor, it's your turn today."

He glanced in the direction of the willow tree, but didn't finish his sentence.

McGonagall was silent for a moment, then shook her head and said in a flat tone, "Albus isn't here."

Regulus was certain.

On a full moon night, Dumbledore should have been guarding this place, but Professor McGonagall is doing this now.

"Professor Dumbledore has been very busy lately?" he asked casually, as if they were having a chat.

McGonagall turned to look at him; his eyes behind his glasses were bright and sharp.

Regulus met his gaze, his brows furrowed slightly, but his eyes were open and honest.

McGonagall ignored his expression, his little scheme, and probably didn't intend to expose him, just as she didn't care what kind of spatial magic he had just performed.

She shifted her gaze from his face and looked back in the direction of the willow tree that had hit him.

"He asked me to tell you," she said, her voice devoid of emotion, simply repeating, "If you want to find him, you know what to do."

Regulus stood next to the professor and nodded.

Fox.

The phoenix tail feather that Dumbledore gave him was always with him and he never used it.

In emergencies, you can summon Fox and use Phoenix Flame to teleport you out of any predicament.

Now this feather has an additional meaning.

Dumbledore may not be at Hogwarts, but the passageway remains open, so he can find the old man anytime.

Regulus bowed slightly: "I understand, thank you, Professor."

McGonagall nodded without saying anything more.

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before returning to him.

"Go back to sleep, Mr. Blake."

His sternness has returned, replaced by the serious tone of a dean.

Regulus replied without hesitation, "Good night, Professor."

He turned and walked towards the castle, then looked back after a few steps.

McGonagall was still standing beside the old oak tree, the outline of her cloak motionless in the moonlight, facing the direction of the Beating Willow.

Regulus looked away and continued walking.

Baruch poked his head out of the inner pocket, his eight eyes glancing in the professor's direction, then at his chin, and clicked.

"It's okay, we'll have an extra meal tonight."