Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 458 Geralt Tells His Adventures

Regulus didn't take his wand. He pointed his right index finger forward, and a beam of silver light shot out from his fingertip, curving in mid-air before closing and condensing into a transparent sphere.

The ball is about the size of a human head, suspended a foot above the table. Its walls are so thin that you can see through them and watch Aberforth wiping glasses behind the bar.

The two brothers moved closer to the table. Fabian's eyes widened, while Gideon frowned slightly.

Regulus glanced at them.

Neither of the Pewter brothers is annoying. Fabian is quick-witted and enthusiastic, but not offensive, while Gideon is quiet, calm, but not indifferent.

The little Prwitt at school is nowhere near as good as these two.

"Reverse application of the Ironclad Spell," Regulus's voice rang out, as he traced a line on the surface of the sphere with his index finger, silver light rippling along the path of his fingertip: "Condensate into a shell, seal."

The shape is determined by the caster's intention; wrapping the human body is the most common use, but it can also be used as a container.

Ironclad Spell, Staffless Spellcasting, Variations.

Fabian opened his mouth, and Gideon raised his eyebrows.

Regulus flicked the little finger of his other hand, and a tiny hole appeared on the top of the sphere. He flicked it again, and a miniature airflow spell swirled around the hole, beginning to pump air in.

The surrounding air began to move slightly, and the candlelight on the table shifted slightly.

Fabian reached out and felt the airflow sucking into the sphere. The hairs on the back of his hand stood up, and when he pulled his hand back, his eyebrows were almost touching his hairline.

Gideon didn't reach out; he just stared at the air distorted by the airflow at the opening.

"Airflow Spell, fill it with air, increase the air pressure," Regulus explained casually, "fill it up to the normal limit of the Ironclad Spell, then compress it further. The more you compress, the greater the power when it's released."

Aberforth put down his glass, poked half his head out from behind the bar, his blue eyes fixed on the small ball on the table that was gradually emitting a faint glow, and opened his mouth as if about to shout something.

Dumbledore stopped him, placing his hand on Aberforth's arm, his blue eyes peering at the ball through his half-moon spectacles, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Aberforth glared at Dumbledore with an unfriendly expression, pulled his arm back, and remained silent.

This operation was very slow, much slower than before outside the castle.

He kept the airflow rate of the Flow Spell to a minimum, and the bluish-white light inside the sphere lit up almost sliver by sliver, changing from transparent to misty, and from misty to slightly white, swirling within the shell.

Aberforth watched from behind the bar for a while, then sneered, "Is that all you're going to do? Slowly smoke? If you did that on the battlefield, the enemy would kill you eight hundred times over."

Regulus glanced at him, grinned, and replied, "Well, I'm not dead yet."

Then switch back and continue operating.

Aberforth choked for a moment, threw the rag over his shoulder, and muttered, "Ungrateful wretch."

Fabian leaned forward and could feel a slight breeze blowing towards the sphere on his face, making his hair flutter.

Gideon sensed it too, his gaze shifting from the silver sheen on the sphere's surface to the bluish-white mist inside, his brow furrowing even more deeply.

Both of them understood that the Ironclad Charm and the Stream Charm were not difficult in themselves; any adult wizard with a bit of skill could do them.

However, the Ironclad Spell's reverse sphere maintains and controls the orifice's precision, as well as the synchronizing effect of the Flow Spell, both require stable magic output and extremely fine magic manipulation.

This goes beyond the scope of ordinary spellcasting; it involves doing two things simultaneously that require extreme concentration.

"That's enough." Regulus withdrew the airflow spell, and the small hole at the top of the sphere closed.

A sphere the size of a human head hung above his two fingers, its interior gleaming with a bluish-white light.

It was several shades darker than the ball that blew up the castle, but the feeling of being compressed to its limit and expanding was still palpable.

The air near the sphere was slightly distorted, and the candlelight cast a wavy shadow beside the sphere.

Fabian swallowed hard. "Is this the one that exploded before?"

"Of course not," Regulus shook his head. "This is too small, and it's not convenient here."

He turned his head to look at the two brothers, a smirk playing on his lips: "I'll get you an even bigger one someday."

Aberforth slammed his hand on the bar counter from behind: "You dare—"

'

"Not here," Regulus gestured with his chin toward him, his tone innocent. "Outside, in an open field."

Aberforth stared at him for a long time, then pointed two fingers at his eyes, and then turned his hand over and poked those two fingers toward Regulus.

Regulus had already turned his head away.

Gideon glanced at Aberforth, then whispered, "Bigger than the one that bombed the castle?"

Regulus grinned, said nothing, and nodded.

Fabian gasped, and Gideon fell silent for a moment before exchanging a glance.

Regulus began to manipulate the magic, causing the walls of the armored spell sphere to slowly loosen.

Compression cannot directly dissipate this mass. It is not a purely magical product. Removing the spell will not make it disappear on the spot, but will only cause the sphere's walls to crack, causing the high-pressure gas inside to explode. Therefore, it will slowly leak out.

He controlled the sphere of the Ironclad Curse to slowly open a crack from the top, and high-pressure gas leaked out through the crack.

Hiss hiss hiss hiss hiss.

The pale blue light gradually dimmed as the air pressure decreased, the sphere slowly shrank, the hissing sound grew fainter and fainter, and finally it became a wisp of almost inaudible airflow and dissipated.

Aberforth muttered another curse behind the bar: "So all he did was fart."

He turned and yelled at Dumbledore, "The men you bring are all troublemakers! That one with half his face burned came three times, and each time he burned a hole in my table! Look at my table! Albus!"

A gleam of pleasure flashed in Dumbledore's eyes as he earnestly replied, "Your table already had a hole in it, Aberforth."

"That's my hole! I burned it myself!" Aberforth slammed his hand on the bar, making a glass bounce. "I burned it myself, and I did it willingly! What about him burning it? You pay for it!"

Dumbledore replied matter-of-factly, "I have no money."

"You've been a damn principal for nothing!"

"The principal's salary is not high, Aberforth."

"And what about all your titles? Chief Wizard? Chief Wizard of Wisengagamo? President of the International Confederation of Wizards? The most valuable head in the entire British wizarding world, with a bunch of titles, is telling me he has no money?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, then said in his usual light tone, "Most titles don't pay salaries."

Aberforth stared at him for a long time, his expression shifting from disdain to mockery, then tossed his chin toward Geralt: "You're the one who trained him?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile remained gentle: "I can't teach that."

"That's unorthodox," Aberforth muttered, withdrawing his gaze, "even more frightening."

Dumbledore didn't reply, but picked up his glass, took a sip of wine, and his smile deepened.

Once the gas was released, the spherical shell dissipated.

Fabian stared at Geralt's fingers for a long time, then looked at the wand in his own hand, rubbing his fingers on the handle a couple of times.

He raised his eyes, his tone serious, the playful smile from before gone: "Using the Ironclad Spell in reverse, we can practice that. The Stream Spell is no problem either. Manipulating magic, running multiple lines simultaneously, that takes practice."

But besides these, what else?

Gideon added, his voice even more steady: "That's all?"

Regulus leaned back, the front legs of his stool raised again, his posture relaxed: "Air itself has power; compress it to its limit and then release it—you've all seen the effect."

Ultimately, it's just a combination of basic spells, very simple, nothing to hide.

He thought for a moment and added, "It can be used as practice to control precision and perform multi-tasking, which is also beneficial for casting spells."

Then he shook his head, a slight smirk playing on his lips: "But to achieve the power to blow up a castle—"

'

The two brothers exchanged a glance, and Gideon nodded first, followed by Fabian, without asking any further questions.

Geralt has said so much, he's been quite frank, but he's clearly still holding back the most crucial thing.

Fabian placed his wand on the table, leaned back like Geralt, and his eyes lit up again: "Just practicing this is pretty exciting. That little ball from earlier, just looking at it looked amazing."

Gideon nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Fabian spoke again, this time in a different direction, his eyes still bright: "Geralt, where did you go on your adventures before?"

The stool leg clattered to the ground. He leaned forward, sizing Geralt up and down—his long, silver hair and short vest, then his amber, vertical pupils—a curious smirk playing on his lips. "This name doesn't sound like a local's," he said. "Nordic? Mediterranean?"

Regulus raised an eyebrow and casually made up a story: "In Norse mythology, during the Frostwolf migration season, they spent two months loitering on the ice plains."

He certainly hadn't been to Northern Europe, and I doubt either of the brothers had either.

But he had read Newt Scamander's "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," which mentioned the habits of the frostwolf: they live in packs, are nocturnal, and their fur turns silvery-blue in the moonlight, which was enough for him.

Fabian leaned forward, pressing for an answer: "Two months? How did you manage? There's nothing on the ice plains, right?"

"More or less." Regulus's tone was casual as he traced a winding path on the table with his finger.

"They followed a stray mother wolf for three days, covering more than two hundred miles, and finally entered a giant's cave. Inside, they found a litter of newly hatched frost wolf pups."

He vividly described the icicles and frozen bones in the cave: "The mother wolf went back to protect her cubs, and the troll has probably had its den taken over by the frost wolves. It's squatting deep in the cave and has a very bad temper."

Gideon listened quietly, holding a glass of water and occasionally taking a sip. His expression was serious, but his brow was slightly furrowed, and some details seemed to contradict what he had read.

He didn't say anything.

"A troll?" Fabian's mouth gaped open. "How did you get out?"

"I sealed the cave entrance with a barrier spell, then lit a fire to smoke out half of the cave. The troll couldn't stand the smoke and ran out the back door. I wrapped the frostwolf cubs in my robe and brought them out to release them back into the pack."

Fabian listened intently, almost slumping onto the table: "What about the Mediterranean? Have you ever been to Greece?"

Regulus continued weaving.

"Last summer I chased a Gorgon in the Greek islands. It was hiding in an abandoned temple and had dragged all the sheep from a nearby fishing village into the water to eat them. I used goats as bait."

"Goat." Aberforth snorted loudly again from behind the bar, so loud that the whole room could hear it.

Regulus pretended not to hear and continued, "After crouching on the cliff for two nights, the siren finally surfaced on the third night. A shattering spell shattered the stone beam above its head, and a landslide buried it."

Fabian pressed, "What do sirens look like?"

"Their scales are dark green, and their eyes reflect the moonlight," Regulus's description became increasingly detailed, his tone calm: "When they emerge from the water, their eyes light up first, like two green lamps."

Actually, it's a combination of the illustration of the siren from "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" and the eyes of the giant squid from the Black Lake, but the details are so good that it sounds just like the real thing.

Gideon had been listening quietly, and when he heard this, he asked, "You dealt with the Frostwolf and the Siren all by yourself?"

Regulus shrugged: "Sometimes there are local helpers."

Gideon nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

It's confirmed, it's all made up.

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