Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 394 Loyal Hogwarts

Regulus got up early today, as it was time to return to Hogwarts.

At breakfast time, the restaurants in Place Grimoire were the same as always.

Green flames burned in the fireplace, a dark green tablecloth covered the long table, and candles were neatly lit on the silver candlesticks.

Smoked salmon slices are arranged on a white porcelain plate, scrambled eggs are steaming hot, fried eggs are runny, croissants are baked to a crisp, and a dish of butter and a small jar of orange marmalade are placed on the side.

There was also a pot of Darjeeling tea, its aroma wafting from the spout.

Walbuga said a few more words than usual.

She placed a small, soft leather bag beside Regulus, which contained several new robes.

This is a new spring style robe from the Lady Malkin's Robe boutique in Diagon Alley. The fabric is an Italian blend wool, which is lighter than winter robes, breathable, and won't make you feel stuffy or sweaty. It's perfect for spring.

The silver thread pattern on the neckline has been redesigned and is more concise than before. The cuffs are neatly gathered so they won't slip down when you raise your arms.

There are also two new pairs of leather shoes, made from the leather on the back of a Welsh green dragon, which is softer than the leather of a Hungarian tree bee, but just as durable.

The lining is made of cashmere, so it won't rub when you walk in it barefoot. The sole has a waterproof and moisture-proof lining, so it won't slip when you walk in it on a rainy spring day in the Scottish Highlands.

The underwear is also new, made of linen and cotton blend, and it doesn't itch when worn next to the skin.

These things were just routine seasonal purchases for the Blake family, and they weren't even recorded in the accounts.

"It's springtime, time to make new robes," Walbuga said casually, picking up his teacup. "Underwear's in there too, throw the old ones away."

"Thank you, Mother," Regulus said, lifting the bag to his feet and smiling. "It fits perfectly."

Walbuga smiled gently, his lips curving upwards and the fine lines around his eyes twitching slightly. He then put down his cup and lowered his head to continue cutting the fried eggs on his plate.

She is trying to be a normal mother and is still learning, but she is much more natural than before the funeral.

Orion paused in flipping through the newspaper, then looked up at her.

He probably had never seen Walbuga like this before. Gone was his usual boasting, and he no longer emphasized propriety. He simply handed over the food, said a few words, and then continued eating.

He looked somewhat satisfied, perhaps with a hint of uneasy surprise, then turned his gaze back to the newspaper without saying anything.

Regulus stuffed the last piece of bread into his mouth, and as he chewed, his thoughts drifted back to the study from the previous night.

I got home quite late yesterday, but Orion was still waiting for me in the study.

As soon as he entered, Kreacher greeted him and said that the master was in the study. Regulus went straight there and recounted the events of the day.

As for the werewolves, there's not much to say about Graybury, Hufflepuff, and Lucius's jobs.

The main topic is the intelligence Lucius handed over at the dinner party, as well as his own plans.

Voldemort's pace is quickening, and war is drawing ever closer—Orion already knew this.

The Black family has been established in the British magical world for centuries, and they have people passing on information about every little thing that happens.

Owls come and go from the apothecary in Diagon Alley every day, and the shops in Knockturn Alley deal with dark wizards so much that someone always lets slip the secret.

Cornwall's plantations are right next to the coastline, so it would be a shame not to do smuggling. A lot of the goods in Knock Lane came ashore from there. With so many people coming and going, there's a lot of gossip going on, and people always like to chat idly when they stop to rest.

Not to mention the intricate web of kinship, vested interests, and political connections.

Who needs Black's vote in Wizengamor? Who needs Black to turn a blind eye to their business in Knockturn Alley? Who needs Orion to pass on a word if their son wants a job at the Ministry of Magic?

These are all about personal relationships; personal relationships are information; and information is politics.

Pure-blood families are a unified whole, and news flows between these surnames much faster than the owls and the Daily Prophet.

Some went deep into Voldemort's side, like Malfoy and Nott; some, like Black, openly took sides but secretly remained independent; and some, like Selwyn, remained undecided and observing.

Ultimately, tipping off others is an old practice, and apart from a few clueless individuals, no one would bet their entire fortune on one direction.

So Lucius thought he was sharing exclusive good news, but Orion probably knew it even earlier than Lucius.

Regulus also mentioned his intention to meet Dumbledore, with a ready-made excuse: to deliver information about the werewolves and to cultivate the relationship with Dumbledore.

Contacting Dumbledore was itself a part of the family strategy.

The Black family outwardly sided with Voldemort, but secretly they had to leave a way out for someone to go with Dumbledore.

Orion isn't a good fit, Sirius is more suited to that role, but he's not the right fit yet.

After careful consideration, no one is more suitable than Regulus.

Moreover, Dumbledore had been paying attention to him for more than just a day or two, offering guidance, instruction, and even shaping him.

Fox's tail feathers and Nicolas Flamel's door were both threads that had been handed over long ago; there was an unspoken understanding between them.

Moreover, he has a Patronus, and his heart is filled with light; to Dumbledore, that is his passport.

Orion had long understood that maintaining the balance between Voldemort and Dumbledore relied on having people on both sides; relying on only one side would inevitably lead to the collapse of the alliance.

But the real purpose is not politics.

Regulus said he wanted to discuss with Dumbledore what he had just figured out—things about the soul, about the will, about light and darkness.

Orion could understand these things, but he couldn't reach them.

In the past, when Regulus used the Disintegration Charm and the Disintegration Charm, he could still taste salt in his study.

He can no longer get involved in these matters; he can't help even if he wanted to, and he can't even provide resources.

Dumbledore is a resource, and Voldemort is also a resource; he can't handle either of them.

So when Regulus suggested going to talk to Dumbledore, Orion simply told him to do whatever he wanted, and that he would support him.

Last night in his study, Orion recalled what Regulus had said before going to the werewolf camp: he had only mentioned that he was interested in werewolves and wanted to see them.

In just one day, he came back saying he had a new idea about the soul, but it wasn't fully formed yet, and he wanted to go and discuss it with Dumbledore.

Orion was silent for a moment after hearing this, then nodded.

There were feelings of emotion and genuine joy. My son took another step forward, but by then, he could no longer see the road clearly.

I can't be of much help, but at least I can't hold you back.

Factions and pure-blooded glory are all meaningless in the end. Strength and talent are real. Take one step forward and you'll move further away from all that nonsense.

The Black family has only produced one person like this in hundreds of years. He's his son, his own flesh and blood, so what more can be said? Just give him your full support.

Regulus can handle magical matters on his own; he can't interfere.

But in other respects, he is not old yet, the Blake family has not fallen, the sky is not going to fall, and even if it does, he can hold it up for his son.

He firmly believed that, given enough time to grow, the Black family would eventually reach a position no one could have imagined.

After finishing his meal, Regulus picked up his small bag and said goodbye to his parents.

Walbuga simply told him to eat well, his tone normal, without adding any further explanation about pureblood honor or the Black family's respectability.

Orion didn't say anything. He had already explained everything that needed to be explained in the study last night. The rest was up to Regulus to handle.

Stepping outside, the morning in mid-February was still chilly, but the wind was no longer biting.

The frost on the lawn was melting, and the air smelled of coal smoke and haze.

The sky was grayish-blue, with a thin layer of clouds covering it, and the sun had not yet fully risen from the east.

The Muggle streetlights in Grimmauld Place had just gone out, and the curtains on the houses across the street were still drawn. A Ford sedan turned the corner, its engine humming in the empty street.

Regulus took one last look, then, snap, Apparated and vanished.

Landing, on the edge of the forbidden forest.

Hogsmeade is too far; it takes a small hill to walk from the village entrance to the castle. The Forbidden Forest is much closer to the castle; it only takes a few minutes to fly there.

The morning light slanted through the tree canopy from the east, casting long shadows on the withered grass.

The air was much cleaner than in London, carrying the scent of pine needles and damp earth. The wind blew from the direction of the Black Lake; it was cold, but not harsh.

Baruch poked his head out of the inner bag, his eight amber eyes scanning the surrounding canopy, withered grass, and the distant castle.

The dark red bristles gleamed slightly in the morning light, and it clicked twice; the sound was crisper in the new environment.

It had been stuck in the inner pocket the whole way, and now it crawled out, hooked onto the fabric, and scurried up to its shoulder.

From Grimmauld Place to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the squeezing sensation of Apparition was nothing to it anymore, but it still didn't quite like the process.

Baruch waved his claws: "...territory."

Regulus's lips curled into a slight smile: "Yes, territory."

Baruch wrapped his arms around the back of his neck to the other shoulder, braced himself on his two front legs, and spread his chelicerae forward.

The morning light shone from behind it, giving its dark red bristles a golden edge.

It clicked and clicked again, louder than before, and then said a longer sentence, with syllables popping out one after another.

"...Regrus...leader...of his people..."

The words had barely left its mouth when it leaped onto Regulus's head, its chelicerae spread even wider: "...Baruch...the giant spider!"

Regulus reached out and scooped it up, placing it back on his shoulder and gently patting its carapace.

This spider probably felt that this entire area—the Forbidden Forest, the Black Lake, the castle, the lawn, and even the wizards within—belonged to it.

He has big ambitions, but his judgment is indeed excellent.

Not yet, we'll see later. When that day comes, we'll give it a dean's office.

Hogwarts Castle stood in the distance, its towers' spires jutting out from above the treetops.

He reached out and gently waved his hand in front of him, and the modified Illusion Spell spread out.

A cool, watery sensation descended from above, spreading layer by layer over my shoulders and arms, completely erasing my form in the morning light, even swallowing up the disturbances in the airflow caused by my breathing.

Then, a flight spell supported his body, and he flew close to the ground towards the castle.

The morning breeze brushed past my ears, the withered grass and bushes beneath my feet rushed past, and the silhouette of the castle in the distance grew larger and larger in the morning light.

It only takes a few minutes to get there.

Regulus went back to his dormitory first. The fire in the fireplace was almost out, with only a few green embers flickering on the edge of the embers.

The room was dimly lit, and the reflection of the black lake outside the window moved slowly across the ceiling, while the shadow of a giant squid slid past the glass.

He placed the small bag of clothes at the foot of the bed, put the small bag of dragon meat in the drawer, then reached out and gently touched the fireplace. Flames leaped up from between the embers, and the bedroom was bright again.

Baruch sprang from his shoulder and darted into the fireplace.

It rolled over in the middle of the flames, kicked its eight legs in the air twice, then flipped back over, flicked its pincers, swirled up a small ball of flame, and waved it above its head, as if waving goodbye.

Regulus turned and left the dormitory.