Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

In the spring of 1965, beech trees in the garden of 12 Grimmauld Place were just sprouting tender green buds.

"Regrus!"

Sirius burst out of the house, brandishing a toy sword.

"Look! I can make the sword shine!" Sirius concentrated, and a faint silver light appeared at the tip of the sword, which lasted for two seconds before going out.

He is five years old now, and his control over magic has improved, but it is still unstable.

"Not bad." Regulus closed the book, giving a perfunctory reply.

Sirius Black plunged his sword into the ground: "Let's explore the basement! Kreacher said there are biting boxes there!"

"I'm reading a book," Regulus shook his head in refusal.

"What's so interesting about books?" Sirius Black leaned closer, glancing at the illustrations. "They're all fake! Real dragons are much bigger than this! My cousin Bella said that some important person has a fire-breathing dragon as a pet!"

Regulus looked up and asked, "Who is it?"

"It's him!" Sirius lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret: "Bella said he's gathering followers to restore the glory of purebloods, and Dad says he's a dangerous element."

Regulus's heart skipped a beat. Voldemort, Tom Riddle, it's starting so soon?

He quickly calculated the timeline. In the original books, Voldemort first rose to power in the early 1970s, but his recruitment and planning should have started even earlier.

By 1965... he should already be operating in secret, using the slogan of pure-blood revival to attract the support of ancient families.

"What else did Bella say?" Regulus asked.

"She said that the great man has great power and can make people see miracles." Sirius sat down on the stone bench.

"Regulus, what are you thinking about?" Sirius nudged his brother's shoulder when he didn't answer.

"I'm thinking..." Regulus looked at the book in his hand: "Knowledge is power. That great man must have read a lot of books."

"No way! He's naturally strong!" Sirius retorted excitedly.

Naive Regulus thought to himself, all power has a source. Voldemort's magical talent, Horcrux research, and knowledge of dark magic were all obtained from books, experiments, and plunder.

A sense of urgency suddenly struck Regulus, who realized that time was running out.

Once Voldemort fully rises to power, all pure-blood families will be drawn into the conflict.

As one of the Twenty-Eight Holy Families, House Black was bound to take sides. In the original story, most of the Black members joined the Death Eaters, except for Sirius Black and Andromeda.

And he himself, Regulus Black, would inevitably come into Voldemort's sights, especially if he displayed extraordinary talent, which Voldemort could not possibly fail to do.

Preparations must begin now.

That afternoon, Regulus, carrying three children's picture books he had finished reading, knocked on the door of Orion's study.

"Come in."

Orion sat behind his enormous mahogany desk, reviewing documents from Wizengamor. He looked up and saw his youngest son, somewhat surprised. "Regulus? What is it?"

"Father," Regulus placed the picture books on the corner of the table, "now that I've finished reading these, I want to read real books."

Orion put down his quill and asked, "A real book?"

"A book with words, knowledge, and magic."

Walbuga happened to walk in to serve tea and stopped when he heard this: "He's only four years old! Orion, don't spoil him. He should first learn the 'Pure-Blood Family Etiquette Code' and know how to uphold the family's honor."

"Glory requires strength," Regulus said softly, yet with unwavering resolve. "If I am not strong enough, how can I uphold the Black family's position?"

Wolbuga was stunned. It was strange and unsettling to hear such words coming from a four-year-old child.

Orion nodded, agreeing with Regulus: "Starting tomorrow, you can spend an hour in the library each day, with Kreacher accompanying you."

"Yes, Father." With that, Regulus left the study.

He didn't show much excitement or joy, which was to be expected, as there was no reason why his parents would refuse his request to study.

Walbuga wanted to say something, but Orion raised his hand to stop him: "Wolbuga, our son needs a special education. Times are changing, that big man is gathering power, and the Black family needs more than just an heir who knows etiquette."

"You know that person too..." Walbuga said, his expression becoming somewhat excited as he thought of the man's influence.

"The entire wizarding world knows," Orion's voice was deep. "He's recruiting followers, seducing believers with power, and coercing enemies with fear. The Lestrange family has already sided with him, the Malfoy family is watching, and the Black family will have to make a choice sooner or later."

At 10:00 a.m. the next day, Kreacher led Regulus to the double wooden door at the end of the third floor.

The door was made of dark oak, inlaid with silver constellation patterns, and had no doorknob, only two symmetrical keyholes shaped like two open crow beaks.

"Both keys need to be turned at the same time, young master." Kreacher took two antique keys out of his apron pocket, one silver-white with a sun engraved on the handle; the other jet black with a moon engraved on the handle.

Insert the key and rotate it simultaneously.

Click.

The door slid open inwards without making a sound.

Regulus's first impression upon entering the library was one of oppression; the density of magic here was astonishingly high.

Visible silver dust floated in the air, and the bookshelves stretched from the ground to the ceiling ten meters high. A ladder was needed to reach the books on the upper shelves; even magic couldn't do it.

Each shelf is carved with different magical creatures: goblins and fairies on the bottom shelf, centaurs and mermaids on the middle shelf, and griffins and fire dragons on the top shelf.

In the center of the room was a huge planetarium, a complex brass machine that simulated the operation of the solar system, but with a few more celestial bodies that only wizards knew about.

"The open area is on the left, young master," Kreacher whispered, as if afraid of waking something. "The right side is the family inheritance area, which requires the master's permission. Directly in front is the forbidden book area; do not go near it."

Regulus first walked toward the open area.

He glanced at the pure-blood family genealogy and discovered that these families—Malfoy, Lestrange, Nott, Caro—were all future mainstays of the Death Eaters.

If these families collectively side with Voldemort, half of the power and resources in the British wizarding world will fall into his hands, and these families will inevitably side with Voldemort.

We must have the power before that.

An hour later, Regulus walked toward the family heritage area.

The bookshelves here are made of deep red mahogany, and each book has its own individual magical protective shield. Kreacher nervously followed beside him: "Young master, permission is required here..."

"I was just looking at the title."

Then, he looked straight ahead at the restricted book section.

There were no bookshelves, but a solid black iron wall embedded in a stone archway. In the center of the wall was a gate with iron bars as thick as a baby's arm, through which one could see the deep darkness behind it.

The lock on the door is a bronze skull with a movable jaw, and the keyhole is in the skull's left eye socket.

Through the gaps in the fence, Regulus squinted into the darkness, where bookshelves were faintly visible, the gilded titles on the spines gleaming dimly in the shadows.

The Darkest Art: The Origins and Evolution of the Unforgivable Curse

Blood Curse Research: Bloodline Magic and Eternal Binding

Necromantic Communication: Forbidden Ritual for Communicating with the Afterlife

Each book title was like a heavy hammer blow to Regulus's heart.

Voldemort must have read these, and probably more. Horcruxes, dark magic, soul experiments... how much did he know?

I need to understand, at least to know what methods he is using.

But he can't go in now; the timing isn't right, and he doesn't have the necessary authority.

He turned to Kreacher and said, "It's time. Let's go."

Before leaving, Regulus took one last look at the forbidden book section.

......

Back in his room, Regulus went to the window and looked out at the street.

In London at night, Muggle cars come and go, their red and yellow headlights densely packed together, creating severe light pollution that obscures the true starry sky.

But Regulus knew that the stars were there.

Voldemort and the war he waged, the power struggles in the wizarding world, the glory and madness of pure-blood families—all of these are as insignificant as dust on a cosmic scale.

But Regulus is now trapped in this dust.

He looked out the window, imagining the man who might still be studying dark magic in the Albanian forest or some ancient ruin—Tom Riddle, the future Voldemort.

Time is running out.