Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 391 They're all quite wealthy.

Apparition landed on a white stone path beneath its feet, so smooth that no seams were visible, stretching from the iron fence outside the manor all the way to the porch.

The lawns on both sides were neatly green. Such a large expanse of green in February must have been magically maintained, with not a single weed in sight, making it quite impressive.

Several white peacocks strolled on the lawn in the distance, seemingly unfazed by the cold weather, displaying their tails in a dazzling display of white that made one dizzy under the afternoon sun.

Regulus looked up at the manor.

Ivory-white stone walls stretch out in a continuous line, with several pointed roofs piercing straight into the sky. The walls are so bright they are dazzling, and the carvings at the base of the walls and the silver trim on the window frames reflect the light everywhere.

Ten minutes ago he was standing on that scorched moor in Yorkshire, the stench of werewolves still lingering in his nose, and now he's standing here.

The last time he came was for a Christmas dinner, and he didn't arrive until after dark. This time it's broad daylight, and the place is excessively bright under the sun.

They're both purebred families, but they're worlds apart.

The old house in Grimmauld Place is tucked away in the Muggle neighborhood, with its curtains drawn all year round, making it feel like entering a cave.

The Blake family is not short of money.

The shops in Knockturn Alley, the apothecaries in Diagon Alley, the alchemy shops, the plantations in Cornwall, the herb gardens in Wales, the alchemy workshops in Scotland, the magical animal breeding farms in Ireland, the vineyards in France, the mines in Germany, the spice plantations in India, the magical animal sanctuaries in North Africa—their businesses are as numerous as anyone else's, with several industrial chains, all producing tangible goods that are not sold externally.

The Malfoys, on the other hand, seemed to want to brick Galleons into their walls so all of Britain could see them.

Regulus felt that as long as you have enough money, you can still eat and sleep. How much more particular can you be?

But looking at this lawn and the white peacocks, it's truly exquisite.

Lucius released his hand from his shoulder, straightened his robe, and gestured to the side, "We've arrived."

Back on my own turf, I felt completely relaxed. That bit of Malfoy-esque reserve was still there, but I no longer tried to put on airs; it was all very natural.

Two house-elves came out of the gate, bowing low, wearing clean linen robes with the Malfoy crest embroidered on the collar, the silver threads shimmering in the sunlight.

Regulus glanced at him; he was more energetic and cleaner than Kreacher.

Kreacher's big eyes were always watery, and the tea towel, though washed and washed until it was almost faded, was still ironed neatly at the edges.

These two in front of me, on the other hand, look like they've never cried.

Upon entering the foyer, one's reflection is visible on the marble floor, and the gilded reliefs on the pillars depict scenes of successive Malfoy patriarchs making covenants with dragons and griffins.

In the corner stood a life-sized silver statue, with the first patriarch holding a magic wand, the diamond at the tip of the wand scattering light into countless fragments on the ground.

Regulus glanced at them, then looked away; he had seen these before.

More than a year has passed, and the furnishings in the manor haven't been moved at all.

A thought suddenly popped into his head: Where is the reconstruction of Lestrange Manor at this point?

I heard that the original site has been overgrown with grass. After Rodolphs ran away, there was no further activity; not a single brick was moved from that scorched earth.

They've probably moved to a different location; they're probably trying to bide their time, quietly building up their strength, waiting for the day they can get their revenge.

Regardless, rebuilding on the original site is despicable; rebuilding elsewhere for revenge is also despicable—a plot for an even greater and more infamous revenge.

Either way, there's a right to die.

He twitched his lips, then dismissed the thought.

"I was going to treat you to a good time," Lucius said, leading him inside. "Narcissa made all the arrangements early on, insisting on keeping an eye on things herself to feel at ease."

He turned his head, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Father is in France dealing with business matters and won't be here. There are no outsiders at home, just the few of us. Make yourselves at home."

Regulus nodded.

Without any elders around, there aren't many rules. This meal is for him, so making sure he eats comfortably is the most important thing.

Lucius glanced at the sky outside the window and raised an eyebrow slightly: "I thought things might not go so smoothly today, so the banquet was arranged a little late."

"I didn't expect that the wolf would back down so easily when you stood there; it was much more swift than I anticipated."

He gestured: "The guest room is ready. Rest for a bit, and we'll have a proper meal tonight."

Regulus didn't refuse: "Alright."

Lucius didn't let the elf lead him; he took him upstairs himself.

The stair railings are made of ebony and inlaid with silver lines, and each step is carpeted, so there is no sound when you step on them.

On the second floor, there is a long corridor with several landscape oil paintings hanging on the walls. The paintings are framed in gold and depict the Malfoy Manor in different eras, with the four seasons changing in turn.

When Regulus returned last time, he only stayed in the downstairs hall and banquet hall and didn't come upstairs.

Looking around, the guest room doors are double doors with snake patterns carved on the doorknobs. The window at the end of the corridor faces the back garden, where you can see a row of neatly trimmed yew hedges.

Lucius pushed open the door; the room was excessively spacious.

A four-poster bed was worth half the size of Grimmauld Place, and his bedroom had dark green velvet curtains with peacock patterns that stretched from the bedposts to the ceiling.

The furniture was newly made, with a lacquer finish so shiny it could reflect light. The floor-to-ceiling windows faced the garden, and the midday sun shone through the glass, illuminating half the room.

Regulus went inside and looked around.

The rooms in Place Grimoire are heavy, with old ebony furniture and portraits of ancestors from who-knows-when hanging on the walls. If you open your eyes in the middle of the night, they'll stare at you.

He was used to living there and didn't think much of it. The grandeur of the house was something that was brought inwards—rules, traditions, hundreds of years of family history—it was intimidating and commanding. The Blake family just liked that kind of thing.

But compared to this, that place looks like a library, and this place looks like an exhibition hall.

It is indeed bright, but it doesn't feel like a place where people live; it's more like a display piece for people to see.

Lucius stood at the door without going in: "Tell the elf what you need."

"Lucius," Regulus turned around, without any politeness, "bring some dragon meat, raw."

Lucius raised an eyebrow but didn't ask what it was for; it couldn't be that Regulus wanted to eat it raw himself.

The Malfoys don't raise dragons, but they all have a strong preference for them. Their storerooms are always stocked with top-quality dragon meat from all over the world, fresh and neatly arranged by origin and cut of meat.

If you like it, then eat it, but eat it with care.

A few pieces of raw dragon meat are nothing to the Malfoys.

He asked, "How many pieces?"

"Give me a few more," Regulus said, reaching into the inner pocket of his robe. "Let him choose."

Baruch crawled out of the inner bag, his eight legs bracing against Regulus's wrists, his dark red bristles gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Eight eyes darted around, taking in the entire room: the ceiling, the four-poster bed, the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the carpet.

Then it stayed obediently on Regulus's wrist, neither jumping off nor crawling around.

This place is not Regulus's territory; it recognized it and knew it couldn't wander around.

But its eyes weren't idle; its chelicerae gently opened and closed twice, clicking and tapping, probably pondering when it could make a nest here.

Lucius's gaze fell on the spider, and his eyebrows rose again.

Keeping a spider as a pet is rare even among pure-blood wizards, let alone Regulus, who would never casually keep an ordinary one.

He had seen many magical creatures, and quickly sifted through several types in his mind.

It has eight eyes, bristles of this color, but its body is only the size of a palm.

Akro spiders can grow as big as a house, no, the length of their fangs isn't like a wolf spider's, and the dark red color doesn't match the silver-gray of the moon spider.

None of them matched, so he simply stopped guessing.

Lucius was a respectable man; no matter how rare something was, he wouldn't even flinch in front of his guests, simply saying, "A rare find."

Regulus glanced at him and nodded.

You've learned something new, haven't you? It will change in the future, and you won't recognize it anymore.

Lucius raised his hand, and the tip of his serpent-headed staff tapped lightly on the doorframe. A house-elf immediately appeared with a snap, bowing in obedience.

He whispered a few instructions, and the little elf disappeared with a bent back, returning shortly afterward with a tray.

A full plate, with seven or eight items neatly arranged.

The tenderloin of the Norwegian Spinosaurus is deep red in color and has coarse fibers, while the leg meat of the Hebrides Black Dragon is dark purple to almost black, with blood vessels seeping through the texture.

The neck meat of the Swedish short-nosed dragon has a dark brown cross-section with fine fat marbling, while the ribs of the Welsh green dragon have pinkish flesh.

The breast meat of the Chinese Fireball Dragon is the lightest in color, almost white.

There were a few more pieces, which Regulus couldn't name at the moment, and each one was darker than the last.

Baruch had already climbed onto Regulus's shoulder, making two clicking sounds, and Regulus nodded at it.

It darted from its shoulder to the edge of the tray, its eight legs busily working.

I tore off a piece, took a bite, and spat it out in disgust. I chewed another piece a couple of times and then sniffed the next one.

At home, they eat whatever they're given; apparently, they have no choice.

Now a plate is laid out, and it's clear that it's prepared for it. Let it choose, and it picks with great enthusiasm.

The tenderloin of the Norwegian Spinosaurus was too tough, the leg meat of the Hebrides Black Dragon was too fishy, ​​and the ribs of the Welsh Green Dragon were barely acceptable but not tender enough.

Finally, it stopped on the middle piece of Swedish short-nosed saurus neck meat, its chelicerae gripping it tightly and remaining motionless.

Regulus twitched his lips as he watched it being so picky.

Lucius waited until Baruch had made his choice before glancing at the elf.

The little elf immediately stepped forward to take away the tray, then disappeared for a while. When he returned, he was holding a soft leather bag the size of a palm, his head bowed, his hands raised high, and presented it to Lucius.

Lucius took them, placed them on the table, and pushed them toward Regulus: "Since it likes them, take these with it."

Regulus didn't stand on ceremony and picked up the bag, weighing it in his hand.

It's lightweight and easy to grasp; you can feel its texture with just a touch of your fingertips.

The Seamless Stretching Spell contained about two hundred pieces of dragon meat, plus a low-temperature preservation spell.

This bag, let alone an ordinary wizard, would be considered a decent magical tool even for some pure-blood families with little wealth.

When it came to Malfoy, he was nothing more than a sack for spider food.

Regulus had seen plenty of these kinds of things and had even given them away himself, so it wasn't surprising. However, the Malfoys were truly wealthy.

The little elves set out lunch.

Golden-roasted pigeon, cream-baked seasonal vegetables, a small bowl of thick oxtail soup, and several delicate desserts.

Regulus didn't have much of an appetite, so he just ate a little bit to tide him over.

The smell is gone now, and everything is cleaned up and fixed, but the stench of the werewolf still lingers in my memory, and just thinking about it makes me nauseous.

Lucius said a few words to her, but there were still a few things at the dinner that he had to arrange himself. As he got up, he said, "Narcissa is with her mother right now. See you tonight."

"After saying that, he went out the door."

Once the door closed, the room became quiet.