Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 374 Something happened at home, I need to take leave.

It was a Wednesday in mid-February, in the auditorium, during breakfast time.

A flock of owls poured in through the domed windows right on time, hundreds of wings flapping loudly, creating a rustling sound in the hall.

Letters, packages, newspapers, feathers—all fell from the ceiling, each with its own aim.

Some were thrown directly into the host's plate, while others hit the head of the little wizard at the next table.

A large eagle owl broke into the flock of owls from the outer edge. With its wide wingspan, it flew steadily and gracefully, a stark contrast to the wobbly barn owls around it.

It landed in front of Regulus, one paw gripping the edge of the table, the other paw outstretched, held upright, waiting for him to retrieve the letter.

The Black family's owls are large eagle owls used in winter, capable of withstanding the wind and snow of the Scottish Highlands.

With thick breast feathers, golden eyes, and a reserved gaze, it landed on the Slytherin table, exuding an air of authority that surpassed that of most of the young wizards seated there.

A black envelope was tied to its paw, sealed with the Black family's wax seal, featuring the Twin Stars and Sirius on a silver background, with a circle of Latin inscriptions around the edge.

Regulus paused for a moment when he saw the color of the envelope and the specifications of the heraldic embossing.

The black envelope is a formal family notification.

Black envelopes with full wax seals are only used for occasions such as weddings, funerals, family meetings, and major decisions.

Something came up at home.

He put down his cutlery and took the letter down.

The eagle owl shook its wings, turned around on the spot, and took off from the table. Its wings brushed past Avery's head, and Avery shrank his neck, cursing under his breath.

The envelope was opened, revealing Orion's handwriting in dark blue ink, brief and simple.

Borcos Black passed away this morning. His funeral is scheduled for this afternoon. We will gather at Grimmauld Place and proceed together.

After reading it, Regulus folded the letter and put it into the inner pocket of his robe.

Nothing much happened.

Borcos Black, Walbuga's father and maternal grandfather.

To be honest, he didn't have much interaction with this old man.

I remember seeing him a few times when I was very young, around four or five years old, at family gatherings. He was an elderly man with white hair sitting far away.

Tall, thin, serious, and silent, he always sits with a wine glass in his hand, rarely moving or speaking.

He would occasionally exchange a few words with Orion, and would only nod at Volbuga, paying him little attention, let alone the younger ones.

They're not even close acquaintances, let alone family.

But in the Black family, Borrocks held a very high position.

The line of succession in the Black family follows the branch of Arcturus III, which passed to Orion, the current head of the family.

Although Boroks is not on this line of work, he is the second most important decision-maker in the Black family after the head of the family.

Borlocks orchestrated several of the Black family's most important marriage arrangements.

He was the one who arranged the marriage between Segnas III and Druella Rozier, thus linking the Rozier family's thorn emblem with the Black family's twin sirens.

The two sacred twenty-eight clans were thus bound by blood ties.

He was also involved in the engagement between Narcissa and Lucius.

The marriage between the Black and Malfoy families was orchestrated by Borrock, who handled all the details from negotiation to finalization.

Judging from the current outcome, Lucius and Narcissa have a good relationship and will be happy after marriage. This arrangement is not a purely political marriage; at least the old man is not just using family members as tools.

Of course, there were also some who weren't so good, like Bella and Rodolphus Lestrange.

Whether Bella chose them herself or Borcox arranged it, the pair was quite outrageous—two lunatics together, pushing each other in an even more insane direction.

In the first few years after Orion took over as head of the family, Borrocks made almost all the major decisions for the Black family.

Arcturus III passed the throne to Orion and then left the government to manage affairs. Orion was young at the time, in his twenties, and was capable and decisive, but lacked experience.

He knew the direction, but how to get there, how to deal with dozens of pure-blood families, how to establish a presence in Wizengamori, and how to maintain his family's independence while dealing with the Ministry of Magic—all of these required time to learn.

Borcos was able to hold on during that period.

He handled most of Orion's external affairs, maintained the Black family's operation within the pure-blood circle, and bought time for the young head of the family to grow.

Once Orion has truly established himself, is able to make sound judgments independently, can hold off the old fox at the negotiating table, and can ensure the interests of the Black family are protected in every decision, Borlocks will step down.

He withdrew cleanly, without clinging to power or dragging things out. He handed over what needed to be handed over and let go of what needed to be let go. From then on, he only offered his opinion when asked.

Blake, who spent his entire life working behind the scenes, had a daughter and two sons, accomplished a great deal, and is now dead.

Born in 1912 and died in 1974, he was 62 years old, which is not short for a Muggle, but too early for a wizard.

Dumbledore was over ninety and still traveling the world; it's normal for most wizards to live to be one hundred and twenty or thirty.

Boroks did not live to the age he was supposed to live, and the cause of his death was not mentioned in the letter, nor did Regulus think much of it.

Pure-blood families, having dealt with dark magic for years, suffer far greater physical and spiritual deterioration than ordinary wizards.

Coupled with decades of high-pressure work and mental exhaustion, sixty-two years old is early, but not unexpected.

Regulus put down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, stood up and said, "Something came up at home, so I'm taking the day off."

Avery was stuffing toast into his mouth and nodded vaguely. Hermes glanced at him but didn't ask anything. Alex put down his fork, looking somewhat worried, but he didn't ask either.

He left the Slytherin table and glanced toward the Gryffindors.

Sirius Black also received the letter.

The same black envelope, already opened, sat beside the plate, the letter paper folded crookedly.

Sirius was stuffing bacon into his mouth, his expression unchanged, his eyes not even looking at the letter; he was just eating.

James Potter came over from the side, nudged him with his shoulder, leaned in to look at the letter, and mumbled something while half a sausage was still in his mouth.

Sirius glanced at him sideways, still chewing, shook his head, and casually folded the letter and stuffed it into his robe pocket.

Then he looked up, past the row of heads at the Gryffindor table, and met Regulus's gaze.

He just stared at Regulus, still chewing mechanically, his gray eyes blank, not knowing what he was looking at or what he was trying to express.

He chewed that piece of bacon for ages without swallowing, his cheeks bulging, making him look like a dog ruminating.

Regulus waited for a while.

Sirius was still chewing away, his mouth moving slightly, his gaze unfocused, staring in his direction, but it didn't seem like he was looking at him. His left eye was glazed over, and his right eye was blank.

Regulus didn't wait any longer and left.

After leaving the auditorium, we walked down into the underground corridor.

Professor Slughorn's office is next to the Potions classroom, and he's usually already there at this time.

.

The door was ajar, and Regulus knocked twice.

"Come in, come in," the professor's voice came from inside, full of energy for the first time of the morning: "Ah, Regulus, good morning."

Pushing open the door, I found the office warm and cozy, with the fireplace burning brightly.

Slughorn sat behind his desk with a plate of golden pineapple preserves neatly arranged in front of him. The air was filled with a sweet aroma, as if a jar of honey had been spilled.

The professor was holding a piece of food in his hand, about to put it in his mouth, when he saw him come in. His eyes lit up, and he reached out his other hand to greet him.

He wiped his fingertips with a handkerchief, then pushed the plate towards the plate with a broad smile: "Want a piece? It's Mrs. Azuli's handmade candied fruit, from the best candied fruit shop in Diagon Alley, a special supply."

Regulus politely but firmly declined: "Thank you, Professor, but I just finished eating."

"That's perfect, dessert time."

"7:50, Professor."

There is no time limit for desserts.

The professor, with an air of self-righteousness, picked up the candied fruit again, put it in his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and squinted his eyes in satisfaction: "Hmm, perfectly balanced between sweet and sour, the texture is superb. Are you sure you don't want to come?"

I ate pineapple preserves first thing in the morning.

Seeing the professor chewing happily, Regulus swallowed his refusal and got straight to the point.

"Professor, I'm here to ask for leave."

Slughorn chewed on a candied fruit, raising an eyebrow: "What is it?"

"Borcox Black, my maternal grandfather, passed away this morning."

The professor stopped chewing half of the candied fruit in his mouth.

His expression didn't change much; the smile hadn't completely faded, but it froze on his face. Then he swallowed the candied fruit in his mouth and wiped his fingertips a couple more times with a handkerchief.

He looked at Regulus, his expression now serious, his brows furrowed: "Borlux's gone?"

Regulus nodded.

Slughorn leaned back, the light passing over Regulus and landing on a faded photograph on the wall, and remained silent for a long time.

It was no surprise that the professor knew his maternal grandfather. Regulus remained silent and waited quietly.

After a moment, Slughorn placed the handkerchief on the table, looked away, and his expression returned to normal.

His voice carried the unique sentimentality of an old man reminiscing about the past: "Your maternal grandfather was a man of great discretion in his actions."

Among the purebreds I know, some are shrewd but shallow, some are profound but rigid, but Borcox has both and still makes people feel comfortable.

Everyone who deals with him, whether they like him or fear him, admits one thing: his conditions are always reasonable, and he always keeps his promises.

A slight smile appeared on his lips, as if he were recalling a specific scene, but he quickly suppressed it.

"One year, probably in the late 1950s, Wizengamor wanted to amend a law concerning the protection of magical creatures, which involved the business interests of several families."

The purebloods were in complete chaos, with no one willing to back down, and it looked like things were about to escalate to a point of no return. Borcox stepped in, talking to each family one by one and persuading them individually, until he finally came up with a solution.

Each party made a small concession, and each party preserved its core interests. The bill was passed, and everyone's face was saved.

After the vote that day, several family representatives who had argued the most were chatting in the corridor. Someone remarked, "Borlocks, that guy is something else."

The professor looked at Regulus, his tone more earnest: "Your maternal grandfather was a truly capable man, Regulus."

Before you young people were born, the Black family had reached where it is today thanks in large part to Borrocks.

Then he sighed, resumed his usual smooth tone, pulled a blank leave slip from the drawer, picked up a quill pen, and began writing as he spoke.

"I've marked it as fake. I'll write down today's lessons and homework for you. You can make it up when you get back."

Sign your name and push it over.

My condolences, Regulus. Take care.

Regulus took the leave slip and nodded politely: "Thank you, Professor."

He turned and walked to the door, and the professor added behind him, "Give my regards to your mother, and tell her that Boroks was a remarkable man."

Regulus stopped and glanced back at the professor.

Slughorn had picked up another piece of candied fruit, but instead of putting it in his mouth, he held it in his hand, looking out the window with an empty expression on his round, chubby face.

Regulus opened the door and went out.

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