Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 385 Regulus Teases the Dog

After asking that question, Regulus had a general idea of ​​what was going on before Lucius could answer.

Greyback won't be in Voldemort's camp for very long.

Judging from how difficult it was for Lucius to communicate with this werewolf, every sentence was drawn out, and every concession was made by invoking Voldemort's name.

Greyback was afraid of Voldemort, but that fear was mixed with resentment. He was afraid because he knew he couldn't afford to mess with him, and he was resentful because his animalistic nature made him disown anyone as his master.

So he refused to obey and even tried to bargain.

This attitude only proves one thing: he had only recently defected to that side.

Ultimately, Graybury is now just a bigger werewolf leader.

Having thirty or forty wolves under his command was somewhat useful to Voldemort, but not irreplaceable.

If he were killed, Voldemort would be unhappy, but he wouldn't turn against Lucius for him, much less harm the Black family for him.

So if Lucius really answered that he didn't care much, he could deal with the werewolf right now.

But in reality, he didn't intend to actually take action.

A living Graybuck is more useful than a dead one; if you kill him, you lose the sample, and research value is what he wants.

Greyback's ability to achieve this level of magic as a werewolf is quite remarkable; in any case, he is the largest member of his pack.

Moreover, while other werewolves either hide in the wilderness to survive or are chased all over the world by Aurors, the fact that he was able to build an armed force recognized by Voldemort shows that he is not only powerful but also intelligent.

Werewolves are widely distributed. Wherever there is a wizarding society, someone will be bitten. Wherever someone is bitten, there will be a werewolf pack. Like a virus, one bites another, spreading outwards and reaching everywhere.

With such a large pool of applicants, Graybuck may not be the only one who can reach this level; there may be others even stronger than him, but it would be difficult to find one in the short term.

It would be a shame to throw away a sample that's been presented to us.

Regulus even thought Graybuck was quite sensible.

Since we're already here, and with werewolves right in front of us, we should at least take something back with us.

If those werewolves just sat there quietly without saying a word, he'd have to figure out a way to provoke them himself.

Now, Graybury himself came up close, pressing his scarred face so close, sniffing, baring his teeth, looking down at him and scrutinizing him.

Provoking him will save him the trouble, which is perfect.

He asked that question not to confirm authority or obtain permission, but simply to find someone to take the blame, and also to add fuel to the fire.

You provoke me, I'll retaliate. Whoever is the least intelligent will lose their temper first, let's see who can't hold their temper.

If I can't resist, that would be wonderful.

Lucius finally realized what was happening, and his expression changed.

His biggest worry was that Regulus would take action directly. Given Regulus's age and abilities, he wouldn't tolerate being provoked. If he did, the mission would be ruined.

Whether Greyback lives or dies, the recruitment of the werewolf army will definitely be affected, and Voldemort will not be able to explain it.

Regulus not only didn't make a move, but also asked that question, which put Regulus in a difficult position, leaving him unable to respond.

What could he say?

He said he valued it highly because he was standing in front of Greyback, blocking Regulus.

Saying he didn't care was a tacit approval that Regulus would deal with the wolf on the spot.

Both ends are pitfalls.

Lucius cursed inwardly.

Why would he go to such lengths to deliver a message, risking his status to deal with a beast?

If that wolf had any sense and readily agreed, he would have already taken Regulus and left.

He refused, insisting on baring his teeth and showing off his wildness, even dragging in an heir of the Black family to provoke him.

Regulus thought Graybuck was sensible, while Lucius thought it was unsensible.

Lucius had already gripped the wand handle with his right hand, his fingertips pressing against the shaft, ready to clean up the mess should Regulus really make a move.

Greyback heard that sentence.

The slight contempt and playful expression on his face froze, and he stood there motionless.

No need for any talk of bestiality or humanity; anyone with a brain can tell that this brat is ignoring him.

For Graybuck, being ignored is far more painful than being provoked.

In his eyes, wizards were spineless cowards who wore beautiful clothes and spoke sweet words; their bones were so brittle that they could be bitten through in one bite.

It is a delicate-skinned prey that can't run fast on a full moon night and has a sharp, crisp cry. It is food that he can take a bite of and drag down into the water, turning into something just like him.

He had bitten many wizards, and every one of them either trembled or ran away in his presence; none dared to look him in the eye.

Wizards should be afraid of him, shrink back, and look at him with disgusted but unspeakable eyes.

He is the predator, they are the prey; no one has ever gotten that order wrong.

Now a wizard's brat is treating him like a commodity to be priced, right in front of him and on his own turf.

At least provoking him means treating him as an opponent; ignoring him means not taking him seriously at all.

The low growl in his throat changed tone, from a threat to a stinging anger, and he took a step forward, about to unleash his fury.

Before Lucius could figure out how to start the conversation, Regulus had already made his move.

The slightest sign that Graybuck was about to explode was clearly visible.

The magic within him was churning, his bestial side was surging, forming a thick layer around his body, ready to pounce and tear at any moment.

Regulus could even discern how the magic surged within Greyback's body.

It spreads outward from the core, flowing into the limbs, into the claws, into the teeth, and into the muscles.

This is how werewolves prepare for battle, and it follows the same logic as a proper wizard mobilizing magic, only it's more primitive, more direct, and more reliant on instinct.

If a different wizard saw a werewolf in this stance, they would either strike first or retreat to defend.

But Regulus didn't intend to do anything directly; he just wanted to conduct a test.

When he talked to Dumbledore outside the Shrieking Shack about werewolves and bestiality, he didn't have any physical evidence, only theory.

Now the real thing was right in front of him, a Greyback baring its teeth at him.

What exactly is bestiality?

When a werewolf transforms, reason is overwhelmed, leaving only pure instinct.

So, in human form, is this animalistic nature asleep, or is it always awake, seeping into every part of him?

When faced with a real threat of death, will a werewolf use its brain to make a judgment like a human, or will it react like a wild beast, with its body reacting before its brain?

He wanted to verify it.

Just right.

Regulus didn't raise his hand, didn't draw his wand, and didn't even glance at Greyback properly.

He only had a fleeting thought in his mind: Li Huo.

With a mere thought, magic responds.

No spells or gestures are needed, nor is it necessary to construct a magical structure in one's mind and then release it; those steps have long been eliminated.

He now wants to cast a spell, and the magic knows how to act.

The moment the thought surfaced in his mind, the corresponding magical structure had already taken shape in his consciousness, fitting perfectly between the star trails, waiting for his confirmation.

It has nothing to do with skill; magic has become accustomed to his way of thinking.

He recalled the feel of Fiendfire, the cursed fire, the cursed creation, a self-aware, destructive tendency.

That orange-red flame surged in my memory, the dark red lines dancing within the flames.

Within the consciousness space, the magical structure of Fiendfire automatically unfolded, not fully released, but merely completed a rehearsal of the summoning at the level of consciousness.

A faint, extremely subtle aura seeped out from his body.

Regulus's appearance remained unchanged; there was no firelight, no heat, and not even a movement in his robes.

There were no magical fluctuations or detectable traces of spells; it was just that after the fact of Fiendfire was confirmed in his consciousness, his body was briefly tinged with the texture of Fiendfire.

It was so faint that it only floated in the surrounding air, drifting wherever it pleased, without being deliberately gathered or dispersed.

Lucius stood to the side, his presence overshadowing the two werewolves guarding behind him, but neither of them reacted.

Lucius's brain seemed unable to receive this information; those two ordinary werewolves were simply too inferior.

Only Graybuck reacted, his pupils suddenly shrinking to slits, and his heels scraping backward on the ground.

Then the hair on his neck stood up, bristling all the way down to his shoulders, and the roaring sound in his throat got stuck.

Before his mind could process it, his body moved on its own, his feet stepping backward, scraping against the ground with a loud screech.

The muscles on the back of the legs tightened instantly, and the center of gravity instinctively shifted backward. The upper body remained frozen in place, while the lower body was already fleeing.

Animals have a primal fear of fire, but werewolves are not afraid of fire.

Adult werewolves have thick skin and fur; ordinary flames can't burn through their hides. Even if fire is shoved into their faces, they just dodge back, shake their heads, and continue to pounce.

Fire is just uncomfortable for werewolves, not a deadly threat.

But Fiendfire is not fire; it is a cursed creation that burns everything flammable and non-flammable, whether material or magical, devouring everything without regard for anything else.

Greyback's instincts couldn't distinguish between Fiery Blaze and fire, but he could sense something more fundamental.

A kind of destruction that kills upon contact, a kind of devouring that gives him no chance to fight back, a kind of fear that comes from the infinite amplification of the primal memory of fire.

This fear goes unchecked, without thought or judgment; it's ingrained in our blood, predating the species of werewolves by millions of years.

The moment Greyback smelled the Fiery aura, his body reacted and he stepped back.

The heels rubbed against the ground, the muscles tightened, and the center of gravity shifted backward—all these actions were completed before conscious awareness.

His mind was still processing Regulus's words, while his body had already retreated for him without him even realizing it.

Regulus watched, his mischievousness growing stronger.

It works so well!

The moment he released the thought of the raging fire into his mind, the fire was already there.

It hasn't been burned yet; it's still stuck on the possibility side, not yet become real.

But the outcome of burning Greyback alive was already set in stone the moment the thought crossed his mind; all that remained was whether or not he would allow it to become reality.

This is what Graybuck instinctively smelled.

A death sentence that has been handed down but not yet carried out.

It didn't know the sentence, the instruments of torture, or who was carrying out the execution. It only knew one thing through the purest instinct of a wild beast: if it took another half step forward, it would be gone.

Regulus withdrew that wisp of energy as quickly and silently as it had seeped out.

The bristling hair on Graybuck's body gradually subsided a little, and his body relaxed.

The muscles that had been clenched just moments before suddenly lost their source of strength, and the inertia caused his upper body to sway forward.

My brain only caught up now, and started processing what had happened in that less than one-tenth of a second.

He looked down at his feet, wondering why he had stepped back.

There was no fire, no smoke, and the little brat in front of him stood perfectly still the whole time, without moving a single finger. Only his body made a decision that he couldn't understand.

He let out a very low gurgling sound, glanced down at himself, then at Regulus, his brows furrowed deeply.

Regulus became interested; that moment had confirmed his guess.

The beast was not asleep; it remained awake, on the very bottom floor, in a place that even Graybuck himself could not reach, and it was exceptionally alert.

When a real threat of death looms over you, your body makes the decision without you even thinking.

Beneath the werewolf's human form lurks a beast that could take over at any moment.

If the verification is successful, then let's try again.

That was fire just now, how about another one?

What would happen to this beast if it died in a completely different way?

If the Fiery Blaze made him retreat, what about other types of destruction?

He wanted to see how Greyback's animalistic instincts would categorize, react, and make choices in the face of different levels of death threats.

The moment the thought arose, the magic stirred again.

This time, he built a ball in his mind.