Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 390 Regulus: It stinks!

The protective intent of Betelgeuse, a blue-white light, stable and constant, seeps through the spiritual connection, gradually enveloping the anchor point, like a lampshade covering a flame that is about to be blown away by the wind.

Edgar felt something glowing in his mind, warm and steady, like the fireplace burning in the Hufflepuff lounge; it didn't drive anything away or suppress anything, it was just there.

The protective imagery seeps in, reinforcing his home, his ego, and his unwavering refusal to hurt others layer by layer, then sinks down and nails it to the very bottom.

When the moon is full in the future, and reason is overwhelmed by animalistic instincts, everything else will be swept away, but this anchor, shrouded in the light of Betelgeuse, will remain unshaken.

It will be the last rope that this person can grab onto before he completely turns into a beast.

It's impossible to get it right the first time.

Regulus knew that this was just planting a seed.

Whether it can grow, and what it will look like, depends on the person themselves, on the endless tug-of-war between bestiality and humanity that will ensue on each subsequent full moon night.

He only got started.

As for the outcome, he didn't really care.

He's done. He's a werewolf who can retain his sanity on the night of a full moon.

If it doesn't work out, or if it grows crooked and becomes something even more ferocious than before, that's also a possible outcome.

He would accept failure, even if it meant certain defeat.

What he cares about is whether the path of using willpower to control animalistic instincts is viable.

Dumbledore once said that werewolves cannot do it on their own.

Judging from Edgar's level, he can't even reach the average level of Hogwarts graduates, let alone rely on himself.

But that's exactly what Regulus wanted to verify: if he couldn't do it on his own, then he should fill in the gap.

Is it feasible to use the protective symbolism of Rigel to safeguard the anchor of humanity, allowing people to gradually strengthen it through repeated tug-of-war?

Regulus gave him a rope, and now it was up to him to catch it on every full moon night.

This is for verification.

However, on the other hand, he did do something good.

Professor Sprout would probably be quite pleased if he knew that a Hufflepuff werewolf had retained his humanity.

This is considered a side benefit, no problem.

Edgar opened his eyes, blinked, and looked at his hands.

It was still the same ten fingers, the nails were still clean, nothing had changed, but something else had appeared in his mind, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Graybuck stood a few steps away.

He watched Regulus on his territory, doing things to his wolves that he couldn't understand at all.

They can't hear, they can't understand, and they can't get involved.

He wanted to intervene, but he dared not move.

A king in name only, left standing around as a spectator in the middle of his own territory, completely unaware of what was happening.

He dared not direct his anger at Regulus, but the look in his eyes as he looked at Edgar had become dangerous.

A cold fire flashed in his yellow eyes. That's how wolves are—vengeful and cruel.

traitor.

Once those two wizards leave, we'll settle this score with that arrogant wolf who dared to bypass him and try to associate with the wizards.

Regulus noticed.

The anchor point is stable, it has sunk to the bottom, shrouded in that layer of blue light, and the task has been completed.

Regulus stopped and said to Edgar, "Let's go back."

Edgar snapped out of his daze, recovering from the mental contact.

He looked at Regulus, his eyes filled with gratitude and something else entirely.

He also sensed the hostility from Graybury's side, and his shoulders hunched back as he backed away, his steps unsteady.

Lucius observed all of this and naturally noticed Graybury's attitude, and began to make plans in his mind.

Is it to finish the task now and leave, then secretly come back later and leave a message to save the wolf?

Or should we simply remind Regulus not to overestimate the conscience of such a beast?

He didn't care at all whether Edgar lived or died. To be honest, he didn't really understand what Regulus had done to the wolf.

But he knew that Regulus had his own purpose in doing this. Since it was the sample that Regulus wanted, the wolf could not be destroyed by Graybury for the time being.

He was pondering how to handle this favor gracefully.

Regulus didn't even glance at Graybuck again, turning his head to look at Lucius: "Lucius, your task."

Lucius understood, and his reserved expression returned to his face.

He took a step forward, tapped his cane in front of him, raised his chin, and repeated his words in his slow, deliberate tone.

Conceal your attacks and only target the designated targets. Avoid the vicinity of wizarding settlements. The supplies have been delivered; this is what that person intended.

Greyback's yellow eyes went from Regulus to Lucius, and then back from Lucius to Regulus.

This time, he didn't bare his teeth, didn't lean forward, and didn't utter a single word of objection.

A muffled sound rolled down his throat, and then he nodded in agreement.

Its head was down, its shoulders were slumped, and if it had a tail, it would be drooping by now.

Compared to his previous haggling, reluctance, and dragging his feet, this time he was decisive, resigned himself to his fate, and gave it to him with his tail between his legs.

But beneath that resignation lay a ruthless streak.

He was terrified of Regulus, so much so that the mere sight of him made his heart tremble, his hair stand on end, and he wished he could flee the scene.

This fear had nowhere to go, burning inside my chest.

He glanced back at Edgar, his expression so fierce it could bleed.

If you can't touch a wizard, can't you at least touch a spineless coward in a wolf's den?

Lucius felt incredibly relieved when he saw the beast finally nod.

But he knew perfectly well that Regulus had done this job for him.

Before I arrived, the biggest headache was that Graybuck was unruly and I couldn't get a straight answer no matter how hard I tried.

As a result, Regulus didn't say a single unnecessary word, and the wolf chickened out on its own.

This favor has been truly owed, which is exactly what he wanted.

He came to Regulus for this very reason—not to have another capable helper, but simply to ensure that the favor was truly appreciated.

Now, not only are these favors reciprocated, but they also become substantial; the more genuine the favors are, the happier he is.

As for Graybuck's plan to take down the wolf, he was determined not to tell Regulus.

He secretly came back later, left a message for Graybury, and saved the wolf.

Once it's done, don't make a fuss, and certainly don't claim credit.

When Regulus remembers about this thing someday and comes back to find it already taken care of, that's the proper way to get things done.

Getting things done is a hundred times better than just talking a good game.

What is friendship? This is friendship.

He swallowed these words, looked up at Regulus with a questioning look in his eyes, and asked, "Is there anything else? Shall we go?"

Regulus was also looking at him, and when he saw Lucius looking over, he grinned from side to side.

His expression was a bit flamboyant, unlike his usual restraint and composure.

Lucius had seen this face before.

On the ruins of Lestrange Manor, Bella lay at his feet, grey magic seeping from his body, and this was the smile on his lips.

Lucius felt a sudden tightness in his chest and subconsciously became more wary, though he couldn't quite explain what he was guarding against.

Then he realized that the smile was directed at Graybury.

Regulus ignored his reaction, sniffed, and said, "It stinks."

Lucius didn't react immediately: "What?"

Regulus didn't reply. He turned back to look at Graybury, his face still bearing the same expression.

That expression, when seen by Graybury, made him feel suffocated.

It was hard to describe what kind of expression it was; it wasn't fierce or angry, and there was even a hint of a smile on its lips.

But it was this smile that made him more uneasy than any of the deadly auras from before.

Instinctively, he screamed for him to run, to lie down, to expose his neck and beg for mercy.

But he could do nothing. He stood frozen in place, the fierce light in his yellow eyes completely gone, his pupils shrinking into slits, leaving only a trace of fear in his eyes.

Regulus raised his hand, palm up.

Flames rose from the ground.

The entire open space exploded at the same moment, with orange-red flames swirling and spewing up from the soil, the cracks in the rocks, and every inch of the ground.

A wall of fire, as tall as a person, suddenly closed in, swallowing up the remnants of the campfire, the piles of rotting garbage, and the entire center of the village.

The flames swept through so fast that none of the creatures present had time to react, and the entire open space was simultaneously licked by the flames.

The garbage heap turned to powder, the stones marking the werewolf territory were burned and shattered, and the sticky substance on the ground evaporated instantly.

But the flames bypassed the living creatures, precisely avoiding the werewolf's position on every spot licked by the flames.

A single, neat line of fire abruptly stopped just as it reached where they were standing.

The heatwave sent all the werewolves staggering backward, the intense heat burning their skin, and flames licking at their faces just half a foot away.

Thirty or forty werewolves were trapped in the fire, surrounded and roasted by the flames, their bodies glowing orange-red, yet not a single hair could be ignited.

The stench, the blood, the filth that had accumulated under the moonlight for half a year, were all burned to ashes in the raging flames.

Regulus flipped his hand and pressed down, extinguishing the Fiery Flame in an instant.

The entire wall of fire collapsed, was drained, and extinguished so quickly that one might doubt whether the sea of ​​fire just moments before was an illusion.

The high temperature suddenly subsided, the distorted air clattered back to its original place, and the village fell silent again.

From rising to extinguishing, from extreme heat to the air cooling down again, the whole process takes less than a second.

The ground was charred black, leaving a hard, burnt crust, and all the garbage and stench were gone.

The wind blew back into the valley, bringing with it a clean, burnt smell and a unique sense of emptiness after everything had burned out—a much better smell than the stench that had filled the village earlier.

Not a single werewolf dared to make a move.

Dozens of pairs of yellow eyes widened, fixed on the scorched earth, on the wizard who had just lowered his hand.

The henchman with three claw marks on his face immediately knelt down, his knees slamming into the scorched ground. The one with broad shoulders raised his arm to cover his face, not daring to lower it again.

They had seen blood, they had seen death, they had torn their own kind apart with their own hands, but they had never seen anything like this: a person, with one hand, burning the earth beneath their feet to ashes, and making the raging fire vanish into thin air.

Graybuck trembled the most violently, his legs could not support his body, his eyes were wide open, his mouth was open, his throat was tight, and he could not make a sound.

He finally understood completely that from beginning to end, he had only ever been the prey.

Regulus withdrew his hand, his expression returning to normal, and said in a calm voice, "I will come again."

He left those words behind and turned to walk towards the valley entrance.

Lucius stood there, stunned for a moment, then tapped the tip of his staff on the scorched ground, leaving a circular mark.

The scene was still replaying in his mind: orange flames exploded from the ground, and Regulus flipped his palm, extinguishing the flames in the same instant.

He had certainly seen Fiery Blaze before, but to use it like a broom was something he had never even dreamed of. This was even more unsettling than the burning of the Lestrange estate.

He had seen too much magic he couldn't understand in his life, and that was fine with him.

Now he could see everything clearly, from beginning to end, and that was the problem.

He lifted his robe and hurried after Regulus.

Under the watchful eyes of dozens of wolves, the two crossed the open space and walked back the way they had come.

There was only deathly silence behind me.

>