Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 382 Sirius: I Need Power

Peter quietly moved closer to his bed, shuffling his feet in little by little, afraid of making a sound.

Lupin stood by the bed, his brow furrowed, glancing at Sirius and then at James.

He wanted to go up and say something, but he didn't know what to say.

He knew Sirius had something on his mind, and it wasn't something as simple as a funeral, but Sirius didn't want to talk about it, and he couldn't get it out of him.

James wanted to salvage the situation, but after opening his mouth and seeing Sirius's expression, he swallowed his words back.

He didn't know what to say for a moment if he didn't criticize the Blake family.

Silence spread through the dormitory, and an awkward and oppressive atmosphere filled the air.

James's mind raced, and after a long pause, he managed to squeeze out, "Uh—McGold told me to tell you that the Transfiguration paper is due tomorrow as usual."

Then, looking at Sirius, he suddenly had a brain fart and blurted out, "She said it doesn't matter if anyone in your family died or not."

Lupin pressed his forehead and glared at James.

Just then, Sirius's stomach growled.

Glug glug—

It was long, loud, and clear, ringing out cleanly in the quiet dormitory room, with a particularly crisp ending.

James froze for a moment, then collapsed, his lips curling into a wild, uncontrollable grin. He tried to hold it in, but couldn't; his whole body was shaking, and he burst out laughing: "Pfft!"

Peter laughed along, covering his mouth to keep his laughter from getting too loud.

Lupin lowered his head. He was a gentle man and didn't want to laugh too obviously, but he couldn't help it, and his shoulders trembled.

Sirius was silent for a moment; this sound pulled him out of that scene.

The image of the yew tree in my mind faded for a moment, but didn't disappear; it was pushed aside by the growl of my stomach.

Sirius looked down at his stomach, then looked up at the people in front of him.

James laughed so hard he almost rolled off the edge of the bed, Peter curled up on his own bed, covering his mouth and laughing uncontrollably, while Lupin was still pretending to be serious with his head down.

His expression relaxed, he raised his hand to wipe his face, suppressed the tension, and returned to a nonchalant demeanor.

Then he reached up and unbuttoned the collar, took off the black funeral robe, pulled it off his head, and threw it onto the bed.

He scooted to the edge of the bed twice, first shoving James off with his hips, then stood up.

James stumbled and sat down on the ground, looking up at him, still smiling.

Sirius looked down at him, took a breath, and his tone returned to normal, casual yet slightly smug: "Where are we getting food?"

James jumped up in a flash, his spirits immediately lifted, and he put his arm around Sirius's shoulder and shook him hard, almost causing them both to lose their balance.

"Let me tell you," he said, beaming, leaning closer and winking, his face full of smugness, "I discovered a place the other day, over in Hufflepuff, there's a kitchen..."

He lowered his voice, speaking mysteriously, as if revealing some incredible secret: "I guarantee you've never been there. It's a group of house-elves who specialize in food. They can have whatever you want."

He patted Sirius's shoulder hard: "Are you coming or not?"

Sirius broke free from his arm and walked towards the door.

James immediately followed and put his arm around James's.

Peter rushed over from the other side of the bed, nearly tripping over his own shoes.

Lupin was the last to leave, turned back to turn off the light, shrugged, and followed.

The torches in the corridor cast long shadows of the four people onto the stone wall.

James walked ahead, vividly recounting how he discovered the kitchen.

The tapestry, the pear painting—he scratched it and it opened, and the more he talked about it, the more it sounded like a grand, earth-shattering adventure.

Peter pressed for details from the side, while Lupin followed at the very back.

Sirius walked beside him, hands in his pockets, occasionally responding with a word.

As he walked, he remembered that he had taken off his funeral robe and thrown it on the bed, but he had forgotten to change his own robe. He wasn't wearing anything over it, just a thin shirt.

A gust of wind swept through the corridor, making it a bit chilly, and he hunched his shoulders.

James saw it, grinned, raised an eyebrow at him, and pointed to his belly, which was exposed by the wind lifting the hem of his thin shirt, making an exaggerated shivering face.

Sirius glared at him, but couldn't help but let a slight smile creep onto his lips.

James leaned in and hugged him even tighter, continuing to talk about his kitchen adventure plan, muttering that he could take whatever he wanted from inside.

Peter chimed in, saying he wanted some butter cookies, and Lupin asked if all the house-elves in the kitchen were particularly easy to talk to.

The footsteps of the four people mingled together in the corridor, each with a different rhythm than the others, yet they sounded as if they were walking together.

Sirius didn't say much, and was led forward by James with his arm around his shoulder. Peter stepped on Lupin's heel from behind and was gently reminded. Lupin's voice was still so gentle.

His brothers surrounded him, and he was being pulled forward like this.

That image popped into my head again.

He has brothers.

Feeling unwell, I collapsed onto the bed. My brothers came back, some scolding, some teasing. My stomach growled, and we all laughed. Then we went to steal from the kitchen.

What about Regulus?

Regulus was surrounded by a crowd, almost like the king of Slytherin.

But look at the kind of people he's surrounded by.

Cuthbert, Mulseber, Nott, Selwyn, Yaxley, and Rozier.

Not a single one of them is white, they're all black. They're all huddled around Regulus, do you think they can pull Regulus out?

They'll just keep pulling him in.

Sirius looked down at his hand, clenched it, then released it, clenched it again, and released it again.

When he was in pain, someone could pull him out of it. But when Regulus was in pain, who would pull him out? Who could pull him out?

He remembered what Regulus had told him: power, choice.

All the things he threw away ended up on Regulus.

He needs strength.

But he didn't know how much power, or what kind of power, it would take to pull Regulus out of that pile of black robes.

He doesn't have it now; he hasn't even figured himself out yet.

He knew that simply cursing them wouldn't drive away those men in black robes.

"Hey, what are you spacing out for?" James nudged him with his elbow. "We're here."

Sirius snapped out of his reverie and replied, "Oh."

He shrugged his shoulders, shook off James's arm, and James put his arm around him again.

They pulled him in.

12 Grimmauld Place.

Before dawn, the view outside the window was a bluish-gray. Regulus opened his eyes.

Before my mind was fully clear, a thought popped into my head: Slughorn had only granted me one day off.

Today is Thursday, and we have Potions class this morning.

He propped himself up on his arms and sat up.

Baruch, awakened by his movements, rolled around on the pillow, kicking his eight legs wildly. The dark red little furball rolled from the left to the right of the pillow, clearly not wanting to get up.

It rolled over, belly up, then rolled back over, its eight legs curled up, its chelicerae pressed under its body, making a reluctant click.

Regulus ignored it, got out of bed in his bathrobe, walked to his desk, sat down, took out a piece of parchment, dipped his quill in ink, and wrote a leave request.

The wording is brief; the reason is that there are still matters to attend to at home, and I respectfully request permission to take one day off.

After he finished writing, he blew on the ink off the paper and folded it.

After thinking about it, I felt that just my own name wasn't enough; it would make it seem more appropriate if a parent signed it.

He tucked the note into his robe and got up to change his clothes.

After changing, he went to the bedside, patted the pillow, and said, "Let's go."

Baruch continued to roll around, this time from the right side of the pillow back to the left, and even burrowed into the pillow's crevice, refusing to get up.

Regulus reached out and scooped it up. Baruch climbed up his fingers to his wrist, then drowsily darted into the inner pocket, circled around inside, curled up into a ball, and continued sleeping.

Go downstairs.

Orion and Walbuga were already in the restaurant.

Kreacher brought over toast, bacon, fried eggs, and a pot of hot tea, set them out, and then bowed and stepped aside.

The family of three ate quietly, the sounds of knives and forks clinking against plates and the soft crackling of candle wicks filling the silence.

Regulus cut a piece of bread, spread butter and jam on it, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly.

Walbuga ate more than last night, taking two fried eggs and drinking most of a cup of tea.

After Orion put down his knife and fork, picked up his teacup, and started flipping through the Daily Prophet, Regulus coughed lightly and pushed the folded note toward his father.

"Father," he said calmly, "please sign this for me."

Orion took it, unfolded it, and glanced at it.

The leave application is in a standard format and is appropriately worded. Due to family matters, I need to extend my leave by one day.

His lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh.

He had long regarded this son as an adult, someone who had even walked in front of Voldemort. In the study, they discussed factions and the situation. When he went back to write a leave request for the school, he still needed his parents' signature.

This was a truly novel experience.

He glanced at Regulus, a hint of mockery in his eyes.

Regulus remained calm, picked up his teacup and drank the tea. The tea was clear and had a sweet aftertaste; it was authentic English black tea.

Orion didn't say anything, just raised his hand and scribbled at the end of the slip of paper. His name appeared out of thin air, the ink still wet: Orion Black. He had finished signing.

He pushed the note back.

Volbuga glanced at the note, then at Regulus.

She wanted to ask why they hadn't returned to school today. Had something happened?

But she swallowed the words back, picked up her teacup, and covered half her face.

After the Christmas dinner, she no longer dared to speak to her son as she used to.

She used to care about everything and ask about everything, but now she's afraid of asking the wrong questions and seeing another Regulus she doesn't recognize.

She is still learning how to be a mother.

Regulus looked up at his mother.

He knew what she was thinking and her current state—that cautious, reserved, and hesitant manner.

Their relationship changed, it changed from Christmas night. The mother was backing down, giving in, and trying to find a new balance.

He thought about it and decided to take the initiative, after all, they were mother and son.

"Mother," he put down his teacup, "Lucius Malfoy wanted to see me today and asked me to do him a favor."

Volbuga was taken aback, not expecting Regulus to speak to her on his own initiative.

He wouldn't have done that before. He used to only say what she wanted to hear and hide what he didn't want her to know. He and his son were the ones on the same side, and she was like an outsider.

Her gaze toward Regulus shifted; the carefully restrained expression relaxed slightly, revealing something else—a mixture of surprise and delight.

Regulus observed this, then, after a moment's thought, decided to add one more thing, speaking casually: "It's that lord's business."

Walbuga's expression shifted again.

In the past, upon hearing the name of that person, her first reaction would have been one of honor, the prestige of the Black family, and the fact that her son had finally received the recognition he deserved; her eyes would have lit up.

This time, she didn't. She paused for a moment, suppressing her instinctive excitement.

She looked at Regulus, her fingers tracing the rim of the glass, and whispered, "Be careful."

Regulus smiled, his tone relaxed: "Don't worry, Mother."

Meeting his mother's gaze, he added, "You know, I'm very capable."

Walbuga paused for a moment, then smiled, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes tightening slightly.

This smile hadn't appeared on her face for a long time; it was the smile of a mother after hearing her son say something reassuring.

Orion turned a page of his newspaper, a hint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes.

The matter between mother and son should be handled by the mother and son themselves. It's right that he didn't get involved.

He picked up his teacup and took another sip.

After finishing his meal, Regulus called Kreacher over and handed him the signed leave slip.

"Have the owl from our house deliver it to Hogwarts for Professor Slughorn."

Kreacher took the note with both hands, bowed deeply, and disappeared with a snap.

Regulus went back to his room to change into a robe he had worn when going out. It was dark gray, of ordinary size, and made of crisp material, but not formal.

At exactly nine o'clock, the door knocker rang, not a second earlier.

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