Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 377 Blake's Funeral

Lucretia Black followed Arcturus, Orion's sister, who was married to Ignatius Prevet.

She wore a dark robe, was not tall, and had completely gray hair. Her facial features resembled Orion's by about 50-60%, but her eyes were much gentler.

She walked over to Walbuga, gently squeezed her arm, and said nothing.

Narcissa followed behind her parents.

Her deep black gown and golden hair stood out starkly in the dim light. In this cemetery surrounded by yew trees, where everything was dark and somber, she was like the only light that hadn't been filtered out.

She saw Regulus, their eyes met briefly, she nodded slightly, and then looked away.

Lucius Malfoy stood a step behind her, his platinum blonde hair cascading over his shoulders. He wore a dark gray gown, almost black, but with a very subtle gray undertone, a difference in texture from the pure black of the Black family.

Leaning on the snake-headed cane, her emerald eyes flashed.

His gaze swept across the cemetery, landing on Regulus, and he nodded.

Abraxas Malfoy walked at the very back, his hair gray, his steps steady, and his posture upright.

His face was covered in wrinkles, but his eyes were bright and clear, and he walked with even more energy than Lucius.

His gaze swept from the top to the bottom of the cemetery, lingering on Boroks's tomb for a while before returning to his own.

He walked over from behind Lucius, went straight to Orion, and whispered a few words to him.

The two heads of the household stood together; one had black hair and was in his prime, while the other had white hair but was in good spirits.

Orion nodded, and Abraxas nodded as well, patting Orion's arm.

Between two heads of the same generation, there's not much to say at a funeral, nor is it necessary. Orion doesn't need any comforting words.

Regulus watched Abraxas's retreating figure.

The old man is in great spirits and looks even more robust than he did at the Christmas dinner last time.

He looked away. Abraxas was a seasoned and highly skilled wizard; a quick glance was enough, staring too intently would be easily noticed.

The Rozier family members also arrived, including Signas Rozier, the current head of the Rozier family.

In terms of relationship, he is Druella's brother, though they are not blood relatives. But it makes sense that he came in person.

No one from the Lestrange family was there, no Bella, and Andromeda didn't come either.

Everyone who was supposed to come has arrived.

About twenty people stood in the cemetery, scattered around the tombs, their dark robes blending almost into the background under the shade of the yew trees.

After a moment of silence, the ceremony began.

Arcturus III walked to the front of the tomb and presided over the ceremony.

Borrox’s coffin floated above the tomb; it was made of yew wood, the same type of yew wood as the surrounding cemetery.

When the Blake family chose this place as their burial site, they planted the first yew trees.

Each generation thereafter replants them; the old yews have been around for over a thousand years, while the new ones are several decades old.

Each yew tree here corresponds to a Black; for each Black who passes away, one tree is used to make a coffin.

In wizarding tradition, yew trees represent death and rebirth, as well as eternity.

Death takes people away, but the family tree remains, and so does Blake.

The surface of the coffin was engraved with the Black family's twin Sirius emblem and a ring of ancient Latin runes, which were faintly glowing, silvery-gray in color.

Arcturus raised his wand and drew runes above the coffin.

Silver-gray light flowed from the tip of the staff, condensed into shapes in the air, and fell one by one, embedding itself into the surface of the coffin.

With each one that falls, the light on the coffin shines brighter.

The new runes joined together with the original runes on the coffin, forming a larger array that covered the entire coffin lid.

After finishing the drawing, Arcturus put away his wand, stood up straight, and then chanted a spell.

His voice was deep and Old English, the syllables echoing under the canopy.

The incantation was long, carrying the meaning of prayer. The sound was bounced back by the purple robe, overlapping with the newly recited syllables, layer upon layer, growing louder and louder until it covered the entire cemetery.

The meaning of the incantation is to encourage the deceased to move forward bravely and not look back.

In the world of magic, after a wizard dies, his soul has two paths.

Most people continued on, into a hazy, dreamlike state, and then further on, into the true place of death.

A few people didn't leave; they stayed and became ghosts.

To become a ghost is considered extremely disgraceful by ancient pure-blood families.

Ghosts are the lingering of the soul, the result of being unable to let go, unable to complete, and unable to accept certain truths.

The souls that remain in the human world are neither alive nor dead; they are stuck in the middle, forever stuck.

There is nothing more shameful than having one's ancestors reduced to ghosts. The Black family should move on, with dignity and integrity.

However, decency is not always a given. For centuries, few members of the Black family have been detached from dark magic.

Black magic damages the soul, leaving wounds, cracks, and traces of being corrupted by curses.

Whether you can reach your destination with these things on your journey is anyone's guess.

Therefore, rituals exist to help the deceased let go of their obsessions and heal the wounds in their souls.

Smooth the wounds of the soul, fill the cracks, and let the departed spirit carry on with a complete soul.

This is an ancient blessing, much older than the Secrets Act and much older than the Ministry of Magic's black-and-white division.

Even before the term "black magic" existed, the Blacks were already using this ritual to bid farewell to the dead.

Arcturus's voice echoed through the cemetery, and the runes on the coffin gradually brightened, turning from silver-gray to silver-white, and from silver-white to bright white.

The light was warm in color, completely different from the atmosphere of the cemetery, and carried an indescribable sense of comfort.

The light grew brighter and brighter, overflowing from the surface of the coffin and shining on the ground, turning the centuries-old moss on the surrounding tombstones silvery-green, and the entire cemetery was enveloped in warm light.

It lasted for about ten seconds, and then the light slowly faded. Starting from the outermost ring, the runes dimmed one by one, returning to their initial faint silver-gray color.

Arcturus III stepped forward, his voice ringing out once more: "The family's magical heritage will not be severed by the passing of one person."

He walked to the coffin, placed his right hand on it, and channeled a wisp of magic into it. The runes on the coffin lit up.

The members of the Black family walked up to the coffin one by one.

Orion was the first to walk over and stand next to the coffin. He placed his right hand on the wooden surface, his palm touching the rune. The rune lit up, and he withdrew his hand and returned to his original position.

Then came Walbuga. She stood there for a long time with her eyes closed, her magic light and gentle, and the runes glowed for a long time as well.

Then came Segnus III, Lucretia, Druella, Narcissa, and then Regulus.

Regulus stepped forward and placed his right hand on the coffin.

The yew wood was cool and smooth. Through the coffin, you could feel that Boroks' magic was still there, very faint, almost dissipated, but traces remained.

He channeled a wisp of magic into it, and the runes lit up. A silvery-gray light flowed between his palm and the coffin for a moment before fading away.

He withdrew his hand and returned to his original position.

Sirius was the last to go up. He placed his hand on the coffin, touched it, and then pulled it back as quickly as if he had been burned.

The rune flashed, and before it had even finished lighting up, he pulled his hand back, his face expressionless as he did so, and put his hand back in his pocket.

All family members have passed away.

Arcturus gently lifted his wand, and the coffin floated to the location of the tomb, beginning to slowly descend and gradually sink into the soil.

The soil closed in from both sides, covering the coffin.

The new tombstones grew from the ground, the stone growing, solidifying, and taking shape from the soil, with the deceased's name, birth and death dates, and the Black family crest appearing on the surface.

Borcos Black, 1912–1974.

New stones, new inscriptions, new coats of arms have joined this row, and Borcos Black, from this day forward, is with his ancestors.

The ceremony ended, and the cemetery remained quiet for a long time, with the wind blowing through the gaps in the yew tree canopy, carrying the rustling of leaves.

The crowd slowly dispersed.

The Blakes gathered in small groups, talking quietly, while the non-Blakes stood respectfully on the periphery, giving the Blakes their own space.

Narcissa walked over from her parents' side, bypassed several relatives who were talking, and stood in front of Regulus.

The last time they were alone together was at Hogwarts.

After the Christmas dinner, something seemed to separate them: Bella, the ruins of Lestrange Manor, the grey magic and green spells of that night.

She was there; she saw it all. Her two closest relatives were fighting like that right in front of her, and there was nothing she could do.

They haven't spoken to each other alone since then, because they haven't had the opportunity, and because they don't know how or what to say.

Narcissa looked at him, her eyes filled with many things: concern, worry, and a little unspeakable grievance.

Then she raised her hand and straightened his collar, pressing down a slightly turned-up edge.

Her voice was gentle: "You've lost weight."

Regulus looked at her, smiled, and, as always, showed her affection.

"Cousin, I ate well."

Narcissa stared at him for a while, and a smile slowly appeared on her lips.

Regulus asked casually, "Has the wedding date been set?"

Narcissa paused for a moment, then her expression brightened, her brows relaxed, and she exuded an undeniable sense of happiness: "Lucius wants to hold a banquet at the manor in June, and preparations are underway."

She began to talk about some wedding details: what kind of flowers they would have, the style of the gowns that hadn't been finalized yet, and the list of invitees that she had gone through three times, but Lucius still felt it wasn't comprehensive enough.

As she spoke, she laughed at herself and shook her head: "He was more nervous than I was."

"Lucius is always thoughtful."

"Too thoughtful," Narcissa said with a slightly helpless smile, "She even picked out the color of the napkins herself."

Regulus listened, and the corners of his mouth curved into a smile.

Narcissa is very happy.

In marriages within pure-blood families, happiness is a rare commodity.

Most marriages are transactions where both families get what they want. Whether the newlyweds have feelings for each other is unimportant; what matters is surname, bloodline, and interests.

It's considered lucky to occasionally find a couple who get along well with each other, but Narcissa and Lucius are a rare example of a truly happy couple in the pure-blood family marriages.

"Cousin," Regulus said earnestly in a soft voice, "If you need anything in the future, come to me."

Narcissa was stunned.

Of course she knew he wasn't talking about helping with wedding preparations, nor about everyday family matters.

She knew what he meant.

Regulus smiled, a hint of relief in his expression, and raised his chin. "You know I'm very capable."

Narcissa looked at him and suddenly laughed.

There was relief in her smile, and a sense of ease that only family members experience after talking things out.

She reached out and patted his shoulder, as affectionately as before, and softly replied, "I know."

Then she looked away and glanced to the side.

Sirius stood two meters away, hands in his pockets, pursing his lips, his gaze drifting upwards, with an expression that said, "I didn't see or hear anything."

Narcissa walked over to Sirius.

Sirius's expression was a little awkward, not impatient, but more like he didn't know how to participate in such a heartwarming scene.

It could also be an instinctive reaction when the older female members of the Black family approached him, probably a conditioned reflex left over from his time with Walbuga.

Narcissa looked him up and down, then reached out and straightened his collar as well.

"You've lost weight too."

"I haven't lost weight." Sirius turned his head and leaned back slightly, but didn't dodge.

Narcissa ignored his reaction, released her hand, stood a little further away, and glanced back and forth between him and Regulus.

"It seems to have grown a little taller again?" She looked at the top of Sirius's head, a smile playing on her lips. "But—"

'

Sirius's expression began to become subtle. His lips turned down, his eyebrows rose, and he turned his head, his eyes widening, silently conveying his attitude: you'd better not say it.

Narcissa wisely said nothing, only smiled slightly, and then told him, "Eat well."

"I know, I know."

Sirius muttered to himself, his gaze drifting elsewhere, his hand taking out of his pocket and then putting it back in.

Narcissa looked at him with gentle acceptance in her eyes.

She knew what was going on with Sirius Black—his choice of Gryffindor, his defiance of his family, his perpetual impatience, his constant desire to escape—but he was also her brother.

Moreover, she noticed that the relationship between Sirius and Regulus was different from before.

So Narcissa also became close to Sirius, because of Regulus, because of Black.

Regulus watched from the side, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Just then, someone walked over from the side.

Lucius Malfoy stood not far away, watching Narcissa and the two brothers talk, but he didn't come over, leaving them space.

Now that Narcissa has finished talking, he comes over.

Lucius extended his right hand, without any pretense, his face full of friendliness: "Regus."

Regulus looked at him and shook his hand in return: "Lucius."

The two men stood under the yew tree in the dim light, while the Blacks were still talking in hushed tones in the distance.

Lucius released his grip, glanced at Narcissa, and then looked away: "There's something I'd like to talk to you about."

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