Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

The Halloween dinner arrived as scheduled.

The auditorium ceiling was magically transformed into a cloud-covered landscape with lightning and thunder, yet this did nothing to affect the grand feast below.

The long table was piled high with food: sausages that would jump into the plates on their own, bubbling purple drinks, and all sorts of grotesque-looking but delicious desserts.

Regulus sat at the middle of the Slytherin table, eating quietly.

Avery sat next to him, Alex a little further away, while Hermes sat alone opposite him, silently cutting his steak.

The atmosphere was relatively peaceful until a second-year Slytherin came over with a wine glass.

Labastan Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange's younger brother and Bellatrix's brother-in-law.

The Lestrange family had long been a staunch core of Voldemort's forces; this was practically an open secret.

Rabastan himself is proud of this, and his face always carries an expression that is a mixture of fanaticism and arrogance.

He had clearly drunk a lot of pumpkin juice, perhaps mixed with something else, as his face was flushed, and he walked straight to the vicinity of Regulus's table.

"Look at us, our top freshman." Labastan's voice was sharp and grating, and he spoke in a deliberately familiar and condescending tone, "Happy Halloween, Blake."

Bella mentioned you in her letter a few days ago, saying you did a good job and didn't bring shame to the family.

My brother Rodolphs also said that perhaps in the future we'll have the opportunity to...serve for a greater cause together.

Avery immediately frowned and put down his knife and fork.

Alex lowered his head nervously.

Hermes also stopped what he was doing, his gloomy gaze sweeping over Rabastan.

Regulus raised his eyelids, glanced at Rabastan, said nothing, and simply picked up a napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth.

But Avery immediately understood with just one look from him.

"Lestrange, it's time for dinner," Avery said coolly, his voice much calmer than usual.

"Perhaps a different setting would be more appropriate to discuss family correspondence and private matters."

Labastan was taken aback when Avery, his lackey, spoke first. He paused for a moment, then said with some displeasure, "I was talking to Black, Cuthbert."

"Black is having a meal." This time it was Hermes who spoke, his voice low and hoarse, carrying his characteristic chill.

"Moreover, many people here may not understand the great cause you are talking about. If you boast about it too early, you'll just make a fool of yourself."

That's a bit harsh.

Labastan's face darkened. His two roommates were also purebloods, but their family status was not as high as Lestrange's. One looked like he wanted to persuade him, while the other watched the show as if it were none of his business, making the atmosphere somewhat awkward.

"Alright, Rabastan, dinner's here." His roommate, who had been trying to dissuade him, tugged at his sleeve.

Rabastan glanced at Regulus, who continued eating expressionlessly, then at Avery, who was giving him an unfriendly look, and Hermes, who was staring at him with a gloomy expression. He knew that he would not gain any advantage and might even humiliate himself.

He snorted and turned away sullenly.

Regulus didn't look at him again from beginning to end, as if he had just been a buzzing insect flying by.

He cut the food on his plate, his mind racing as he analyzed the situation: the Lestrange brothers, especially Rodolphus, were Voldemort's loyal followers, Bella's future husband, and fanatical executioners.

This Rabastan is deeply influenced by his family, fanatical but mentally deficient, and prone to impulsiveness. He is a typical henchman type who is easily manipulated.

Such a person may be put to good use in certain situations, and can be guided to complete dangerous or attention-grabbing tasks.

Then, naturally, it will find its place.

Regulus has no sympathy for those destined to fall into the abyss and drag others down with them.

The banquet continued, and the auditorium was filled with laughter and joy.

The long table was piled high with food, the aroma of roasted pumpkin pies filled the air, and sugar spiders crawled between the plates.

Dumbledore stood up, wearing a deep purple robe embroidered with silver stars today, his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles gleaming with a gentle light.

"Happy Halloween everyone," he said in a booming voice, clearly blessed by magic, "Tonight, we've invited a special performance team."

He clapped his hands lightly, and a door on one side of the hall opened.

Three wizards dressed in bright costumes walked in, followed by several well-trained small magical creatures.

The leader was a short, stout witch who bowed to Dumbledore and then turned to the students with a smile.

"The Moonlight Circus from Wells," Dumbledore introduced. "They will perform some interesting magic tricks for us."

The circus performance begins.

The first performance was a chameleon dance. Several small chameleons changed colors as directed by a magic wand, from emerald green to golden yellow and then to silver white, arranging themselves in the shape of a Halloween pumpkin on the table.

The students gasped in amazement.

Regulus sat at the Slytherin table, watching the performance quietly.

His gaze swept across the hall, noticing the Blood Man Barrow slowly drifting past the Ravenclaw dining table, his ghostly robes stained with dark stains that could never be washed away.

Regulus recalled the contents of "A Brief History of Soul Magic," which stated that ghosts were remnants of obsessions, remnants of the soul.

The depth of obsession of a ghost like the Blood Man Barrow, which has existed for nearly a thousand years, is unimaginable.

Like Lady Grey of Ravenclaw, he is one of the oldest ghosts at Hogwarts, both powerful wizards in life and carrying countless secrets in death.

As the performance reached its climax, the circus wizard conjured a swarm of glowing magical butterflies. The butterflies formed the words "Happy Halloween" in the air before turning into golden powder and slowly falling down.

Taking advantage of the lively performance, Regulus got up and left his seat.

When Regulus found Barrow the Blood Man in the corner, he was looking toward the Ravenclaw table.

Barrow's gaze swept through the bustling crowd and settled on Ms. Gray's fleeting figure, his expression complex and unreadable.

"Mr. Barrow." Regulus stopped at an appropriate distance.

The ghost slowly turned its head.

"The Black family's children." Barrow's voice was dry and hollow.

Regulus's heart skipped a beat. Barrow actually knew him, or rather, recognized his bloodline?

Regardless, it's good that we've met, since he has many questions he wants to ask the senior ghost.

"I read some records in my family's collection of books and would like to ask you about them." Regulus chose to get straight to the point and continued speaking without waiting for a refusal.

Regarding the nature of ghosts, the book says that ghosts are the obsessions left behind by wizards in the world, and are the condensation of memories and emotions.

But I don't understand why some wizards become ghosts while others don't? It doesn't seem like a matter of choice.

Barrow's lips trembled slightly, as if he were smiling, or perhaps in pain.

"A choice?" His tone was laced with indescribable sarcasm. "You think becoming a ghost is a choice? No, child, this isn't a choice, it's failure."

"Failure?" Regulus pressed on, seeing that Barrow was willing to talk.

"Unable to let go," Barrow's gaze drifted to Ms. Gray again: "Unable to finish, unable to accept, or... unable to face certain truths."

So we stayed here, trapped between life and death.

Regulus recalled the discussion of the integrity of the soul in "A Brief History of Soul Magic".

A complete and healthy soul should be able to smoothly enter the next stage, whatever that next stage may be, no living person knows.

And the lingering ghosts, in a sense, are indeed a failed form of the soul.

"Then what is the essential difference between a ghost and the soul of a living person?" Regulus pressed. "Besides not having a physical body?"

Blood Man Barrow turned his head and looked intently at Regulus, a slight ripple appearing in his empty eyes.

"You're very direct, unlike the other young wizards... They're either afraid of me or they ignore me." Barrow's tone was slow, like the rustling of dry leaves.

"The soul of a living person is whole and fluid; it changes. But the soul of a ghost is frozen, like an insect in amber, retaining the form of the moment of death, never to be changed again."

Regulus grasped the key point: "So the power of the ghost originates from the solidified state of the soul itself? And this solidification is endowed with some kind of quality?"

Barrow remained silent for a long time.

"Yes, solidification means stability, it means it is not easily destroyed."

The souls of the living can be wounded, broken, and torn apart.

The ghost's soul had already shattered once, shattered just right, neither completely dissipated nor losing the possibility of change.

Therefore, it's difficult for them to be hurt again.

These words shook Regulus.

The soul is torn apart; this is the process of creating a Horcrux.

Voldemort tore his soul into pieces and sealed them in different containers. Does that mean that, in some way, Horcrux makers and ghosts are similar?

Are they all unnatural states of the soul?

Regulus cautiously revealed part of the truth: "I've read some books about the soul, about how to tear it apart and seal it away."

Then he asked, "I want to know, if a person's soul is already damaged, how can he protect the rest from further damage?"