Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 384 How much did that person value him?

A person came out of the largest house in the village and blocked half of the door frame.

Fenrir Greyback was tall and burly, with shoulders one and a half times the width of an average wizard.

Wearing a thick leather vest whose original color was no longer visible, her arms were bare and covered with scars ranging in color from light pink to dark brown; not a single patch of skin was intact.

The same was true of his face; claw marks and bite marks crisscrossed, some deep and some shallow, leaving his face unrecognizable.

The nails were long, dirty, and grayish-yellow, with cuts at the tips, somewhere between human hands and wolf claws, and they never shrank back; they had long since taken their final shape.

The teeth are sharp and yellow, and dark marks can be seen between the teeth when the mouth is open and the breath is exhaled.

Its eyes are yellow, with vertical pupils, and the way it looks at people has lost all human characteristics.

When a human looks at another person, regardless of their attitude, there is always a certain kind of recognition between people of the same kind.

Graybury didn't have that. He looked at people like he was looking at something he could pounce on at any moment, prey for which he hadn't yet decided when to eat them.

The look in their eyes that makes them think they're at the top of the food chain.

Regulus sized him up, his eyes filled with interest.

This creature has lived its life as a predator, and everything from its body shape to its nails, teeth, and eyes is growing in that direction.

He no longer pretends to be human; he is moving closer to the beast, and he enjoys it.

Regulus attached his perception to it.

Greyback's magical energy concentration is an entire order of magnitude higher than that of other werewolves.

If the magic of an ordinary werewolf is a naked, rough fluctuation, his magic is a compressed, highly condensed core of bestiality, the difference between a flame and a bonfire.

Looking deeper, his bestiality is not mixed with his humanity.

Other werewolves are intertwined with humans, their lives intertwined, which is why they are conflicted and suffer.

Graybury was different; his bestiality was on the outside, a thick layer that completely enveloped what was inside.

Is it that humanity is hidden within, enveloped by bestiality, or is it that little humanity remains, and beneath that layer of bestiality lies emptiness?

Unable to make a judgment at first glance, Regulus did not draw a conclusion.

He remained calm and continued to observe, passively taking in information without making any active probes.

Who knows if Graybury has any animal instincts, or if he can sense that someone is eyeing him?

Lucius hasn't finished his work yet; there's no need to complicate things further.

When Graybury saw Lucius, he snorted with disdain, his lips twitching to reveal two rows of yellow teeth.

"Here we go again," his voice was rough, hoarse from years of howling, "What has the Malfoy lad brought this time?"

He knew Malfoy and that he was there on behalf of that lord, but that didn't stop him from looking down on him.

A pure-blooded nobleman dressed in fine clothes, leaning on a precious cane, and speaking in roundabout ways.

In Graybuck's eyes, this thing was very brittle, and could bite through the neck in one bite. It was usually arrogant and relied entirely on the family name to maintain its status.

He hates people like that; he wishes he could tear them apart and eat them, bones and all.

His facial expression made it clear: he was impatient and full of malice, but as a leader, he still had enough rationality.

Then he noticed the person next to Lucius, with black hair, gray eyes, and a height half a head shorter than Lucius, who was also dressed in fine clothes.

A little brat.

Greyback's gaze swept back and forth over Regulus, as if he were sizing up prey.

He took two steps forward, his massive body casting a shadow that enveloped Regulus.

A pungent, overpowering smell followed him.

Regulus frowned.

The stench of blood, the foul smell of the werewolf, the pungent odor of his beastly body, and something emanating from his magic all mingled together and filled my nostrils.

Nausea.

The nasty look on Graybury's face intensified.

He could tell that the little brat was uncomfortable because of his smell.

He liked this; it was the taste of predators, the fear of wizards.

At this moment, Lucius took half a step forward, held his cane horizontally, and blocked Greyback and Regulus from going any further.

"Greybuck," he said in a measured, deliberate voice, "I've come to deliver a message from that lord."

Greyback turned his head toward Lucius, but his eyes didn't move; instead, he glanced sideways at Regulus.

Then, slowly, his gaze shifted from Regulus to Lucius's face, with obvious provocation.

Lucius ignored him and began to explain the mission.

"Your people have been making too many moves in Yorkshire lately."

He maintained a reserved demeanor and spoke in a cold tone: "Several attacks in a row have bitten many people and created a new batch of werewolves. One of them occurred near the wizarding community."

He tapped the ground in front of him with his cane: "The Hazardous Organisms Management Division has already set up a detection network over there."

11

"What that person means—"

"Stop." Graybury interrupted him, turned his back, spat at the open ground, and then turned back.

"I've had enough," he said, revealing his yellow teeth in a vicious tone. "You lot, all you ever talk about is that person's will, that person's arrangement."

Greyback leaned forward, looked down at him, and bared his two canine teeth: "Why should I listen? I'm perfectly fine here. Who I bite, and when I bite, is up to me."

Lucius frowned, a look of disgust flashing in his eyes, but he stood still without backing down, maintaining his posture.

"On what grounds?" He forced a smile, devoid of any goodwill: "On the grounds of flesh on your body, which lord bestowed it upon you."

His gaze swept from Graybuck's tattered clothes to his dirty, yellowed fingernails, his tone leisurely, his attitude condescending despite the nearly foot-long height difference.

Compared to Graybury, Lucius possessed an inexplicable air of composure and elegance: "Where were you six months ago?"

"They were chased all over England by Aurors, with nowhere to spend the winter. The few wolves under their command were so hungry that they were eating their own kind."

A threatening growl rolled down Graybury's throat; it was a bit offensive, but it was the truth.

Lucius remained unmoved.

"That lord gave you this village, gave you resources, and gave you a piece of land that no one cared about, so that you could comfortably bite people and develop your tribe. You enjoyed this for half a year."

"Now," he tapped his cane on the ground, "he wants you to behave yourself and not attract the attention of the Ministry of Magic. Is that too much to ask?"

"That's outrageous!" Graybury gritted his teeth. "Let those useless idiots sitting in their offices come here!"

"And then?" Lucius's voice turned cold. "You're planning to bite an Auror? If you bite just one, the Ministry of Magic will declare the entire Yorkshire a no-go zone."

There are no prey in the restricted area, only encirclement and suppression. The more you bite, the stronger the encirclement and suppression will be.

At that time, what that person wanted—a werewolf army that could be deployed at crucial moments—would no longer exist.

"Your value, Graybuck, lies in your usefulness, even if one day you are no longer useful."

Greyback scoffed, exhaling a foul stench that was so close Lucius could feel the heat on his face.

He didn't refute Lucius's words because he couldn't, but that didn't mean he accepted that the wizard could speak to him like that, in a threatening tone.

He narrowed his eyes, his yellow vertical pupils widening as he stared at Lucius with a dangerous glint in his eyes, as if he were about to unleash his claws, revealing his fangs, and tearing Lucius's neck apart.

Lucius took a half step forward, his composure tinged with a chilling aura: "Greyborough, who do you think you are? You think you can negotiate with that lord just because you have thirty or forty wolves?"

"With a single word from that lord, you and your wolf cubs have no chance of survival."

Lucius stepped back to his previous position, his tone returning to its usual elegance, and asked, "Perhaps you'd like to give it a try?"

Greyback's face darkened as he stared at him, and Lucius stared back at Greyback. The man and the wolf stared at each other, and the surrounding werewolves fell silent.

Graybury was certainly not stupid; he was a beast, but not a madman.

He knew that the guy in the nice clothes in front of him was telling the truth.

What that person can give, he can also take back; he is still afraid of that person.

"...You want me to tone it down," he squeezed out through gritted teeth, "I can, but we need to increase supplies. I have so many mouths to feed, and what we had before wasn't enough."

"Here it is," Lucius said, shaking the small leather bag in his hand. "The quantity was set by that lord, not a single piece more, not a single piece less."

Greyback growled, "Not enough."

"Then go hungry," Lucius threw the small bag on the ground. "Even if you're hungry, you have to behave yourself. These two things don't conflict."

Graybury stared at the bag, then at Lucius, and the air froze.

Lucius didn't back down. He had delivered the message and maintained the necessary pressure, but Graybury, that beast, just wouldn't agree readily. Relying on his limited usefulness, he dragged his feet and haggled over the price.

Lucius knew that the more you reasoned with this kind of thing, the more it would take advantage of you.

But he couldn't really break off relations; he still needed to keep the werewolf around. This was a task assigned by that person, and he couldn't afford to mess it up.

He had to be able to give Graybury a good talking-to, but not really provoke him to the point of violence; he had to keep that line firmly in mind.

The difficulty of this job is never in delivering messages, but in dealing with such an unreasonable yet inescapable person, having to hold your nose and get the message across.

He spoke again, this time from a different angle, bringing up the big boss's overall plan, the idea that after success, he could take on whomever he wanted, and that if anyone dared to mess things up, death would be the greatest blessing.

One sentence after another, from orders to promises to threats, using both soft and hard tactics.

Graybury listened, occasionally baring his teeth and snorting through his nose, turning his back and then turning back, but he wouldn't respond.

The scene froze. Lucius said a lot, but the wolf didn't budge an inch.

He wanted a clear nod from Graybuck, but Graybuck refused, dragging things out and using this beastly way to express his defiance.

It's pointless, but he has to keep going.

Lucius's brows furrowed, growing impatient. His robe, now marinated, was to be burned as soon as he got home.

In my mind, I started cursing: filthy, despicable, barbaric, beast...

Greyback was getting impatient. He knew he would eventually agree and let the damned wizard get what he wanted, but he just didn't want to give it to him readily.

He couldn't be bothered to listen to Lucius's nonsense anymore, and his yellow eyes rolled to the little brat next to him.

He took two steps forward, bent down, and brought his face close to Regulus's face, about an arm's length away.

He took a deep breath and sniffed.

His nostrils flared, and a low gurgling sound came from his throat, like a wild beast sniffing something unfamiliar, from his hair to his shoulders, and from his shoulders to his collar.

His eyes were fixed on Regulus, his yellow vertical pupils revealing his teeth, looking down at him condescendingly.

He certainly wouldn't actually attack a wizard who came with Malfoy, even if it was just a nobody; that would only cause him trouble.

But he can scare people, and he likes it.

He enjoyed watching those delicate-skinned wizards tremble, feel disgusted, and be afraid in his presence. He loved seeing them want to run but dare not, only to be bitten by him in the end.

He bit many people, and with each bite, that person became like him, despised by society, abandoned by their family, and ultimately either died or came to him for help.

He enjoyed it immensely, spreading it like a seed.

He thought he was in control of everything, of other people's fears, and of other people's future.

The little brat in front of me had black hair, gray eyes, a furrowed brow, and a disgusting look on his face.

What a fine prey.

He moved even closer, his nose almost touching his, and his breathing became heavy.

His mouth stretched almost to his ears, revealing a mouthful of foul-smelling, yellow teeth, his expression full of malice: "Who is this little brat? Malfoy, the gift you brought? Still breastfeeding?"

Regulus was still frowning. Graybuck's words were less than a dog's bark, but the smell was so strong it was unbearable.

Lucius, who was standing nearby, saw this scene and his expression changed slightly.

He wasn't worried that Regulus would suffer a loss; even if Graybury brought his teeth all over the place, he couldn't hurt a single hair on Regulus's head.

His worry was the opposite: that Regulus might lose his temper and kill Graybury.

That would be troublesome, as the adults would also need werewolves.

Regulus was young and so strong, so it's understandable that he retaliated after being provoked.

Even if Greyback were killed, that lord might not blame Regulus.

A thirteen-year-old wizard was provoked to his face by an adult werewolf, and he fought back and killed it. Who can say he was wrong?

But if the job goes wrong, someone has to be blamed. Who could it be?

This is the Malfoys' job, so he's the only one who can take the blame.

Or what if, just what if, Regulus suffered even the slightest injury, even just a scratch, or even if the werewolf merely touched his robe—

Forget about cooperation and building a relationship between the Black and Malfoy families; they'd become enemies on the spot.

Orion Black certainly wouldn't let any of the werewolves present get away with it, including Greyback, but before that, he would first pursue the person who brought his son to this place.

He can't handle either of them.

Lucius was about to speak to stop him, but as he stepped forward, the cane had already been switched hands, the wand hilt now gripped in his right hand.

At this moment, Regulus turned to look at him and asked, "How much does that lord value him?"

>