Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 463 Dumbledore: Why is Geralt's face so dark?

Fabian made the first move, unleashing a disarming spell from the tip of his staff. The red light flew straight towards him at a considerable speed, demonstrating his skill.

Regulus stepped aside, the red light grazing his left shoulder.

Fabian's second obstacle spell followed, at a low angle with a slight curve.

Regulus lunged forward, his boots pushing off the ground, his entire body forming a silvery-white line. The Obstacle Charm grazed past his shoulder, and he was already five meters away from Fabian.

Gideon cut in from the side, unleashing a Shattering Curse at Geralt's feet. The white beam struck the grass, sending clumps of dirt flying.

Regulus stopped abruptly, twisting his body in the opposite direction to dodge the Shattering Curse while simultaneously delivering a whip kick.

He really kicked, but not with much force; if he had kicked harder, he could have sent Gideon flying.

Gideon raised his hand to block, stumbled two steps to regain his footing, his eyes lit up, and he immediately adjusted his stance and shot a petrification spell back.

At the same time, Fabian came from behind to cover, unleashing a disarming curse and a tripping curse simultaneously, attacking from both high and low.

Regulus didn't even turn his head. The Ironclad Charm on his back lit up automatically, and the two spells collided and exploded, but he didn't move an inch.

Gideon unleashed a Disarming Charm at Fabian's feet, causing Fabian to jump to dodge. As he landed, Gideon was forced into the same direction as Fabian by another Disarming Charm.

The two nearly collided and had to pull each other back to steady themselves.

Fabian placed his hand on Gideon's shoulder for support, while Gideon erected an armored spell in front of him to block any follow-up attacks.

The two brothers switched positions, with Gideon in front and Fabian behind, forming a diagonal line.

As soon as Gideon's Ironclad Curse was withdrawn, Fabian's Shattering Curse pierced through from above, its angle precise, aimed straight at Geralt's chest.

Gideon's Obstacle Charm followed immediately, sealing off Geralt's space to dodge to the right.

The two spells were cast one after the other with a very small gap, almost sealing off all angles of evasion.

Regulus's Ironclad Charm lit up on his chest, the Shattering Charm exploded upon impact, and the Barrier Charm followed closely behind. The impact of the two spells tore a small patch of grass off the ground.

He stood still, his feet not moving, and raised his hand to cast a disarming spell at Gideon.

Gideon dodged to the side, and Fabian cast a stun spell from behind, attempting to disrupt Geralt's attack rhythm.

But Regulus was no longer where he was. He moved a step to the left with incredible speed, his long silver hair leaving a trail of afterimages in the morning light as he bypassed Gideon's armored flank.

Gideon reacted quickly, immediately adjusting his stance and stepping back, casting a tripping spell with his wand to block Geralt's feet.

Fabian attacked simultaneously, unleashing a disarming spell from the side. The two, one in front, one behind, one to the left, and one to the right, coordinated their spells with a tight rhythm.

Regulus didn't dodge the tripping spell; he crashed into it directly, and the spell was deflected.

He pressed forward, crashing into Gideon's close range, his left hand forming a fist, enveloped in a faint red light, and he punched Gideon's right shoulder.

Gideon dodged to the side, his fist grazing past his robe, the force of the punch flipping up his collar.

Fabian unleashed a Shattering Curse at Geralt's feet from behind, attempting to force him to retreat and create distance for Gideon.

Regulus didn't even turn his head, sliding to the side and unleashing a shattering spell that created a small crater in the grass.

At the same time, he threw a barrier spell behind him. Just as Fabian was about to give chase, the barrier spell blocked his way and forced him to stop.

Regulus never seriously raised his wand throughout the entire process; when he needed to block, the Ironclad Charm would automatically light up, and when he needed to disrupt the rhythm, he would casually cast a basic spell.

Most of the time was spent moving around, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes left, sometimes right, her long silver hair leaving trails of afterimages in the morning light.

The two brothers chased after him, their teamwork becoming increasingly fluid. Gideon blocked Fabian's movement and struck his vitals, while Fabian feinted an attack and Gideon finished him off. Several times, they even blocked spells for their opponents.

Gideon's Ironclad Charm blocked two Disarming Charms, and when Febian rushed forward, he used a Petrify Charm to help his brother, forcing him back half a step.

The rhythm was clear and the division of labor was well-defined, but the more they played, the more they realized the gap between them.

No matter how Geralt tries to block his movement, he can always find an opening; no matter how dense the spells are, the Ironclad Charm always lights up in the right place.

They struggled to keep up, while Geralt's hair remained perfectly in place.

Fabian grinned, panting, and flicked his wand to cast a disarming spell, shouting, "Stop for a second so I can aim!"

Gideon smiled slightly, playing seriously but not earnestly, with sweat beading on his forehead and bright eyes.

It went on for a long time.

Regulus stopped on a low slope and looked down at the two men.

Fabian bent over, supporting himself on his knees, panting. Gideon, on the other hand, stood upright, but his chest heaved violently. Both brothers still held their wands; they hadn't been knocked away.

Fabian caught his breath, plopped down on the grass, and looked up at the sky: "I told you I wasn't in good shape."

Gideon put away his wand and said earnestly, "Thank you for your guidance."

Regulus stepped down the low slope, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, and put his wand back into his inner pocket.

The three people sat on the grass, a cool morning breeze blowing, carrying moisture from the direction of Black Lake.

Fabian lay flat, hands behind his head, watching the clouds drift slowly by, a relaxed smile on his lips: "After we finish fighting all this messy battle..."

He squinted, sunlight illuminating his face, and his tone suddenly relaxed, tinged with longing: "I want to marry a beautiful witch, even more beautiful than Rosmerta—"

"Forget it, it's probably hard to find someone prettier than Rosmerta. Someone similar will do. We can live in the countryside and keep a few owls."

Gideon sat beside him, tugging at the grass at his feet: "That's nice. Find a quiet place to settle down and have a few kids."

.

Fabian turned to look at him, his eyes lighting up: "How many?"

“Five,” Gideon said seriously, “enough to form a Quidditch team.”

"Five aren't enough, we don't even have any substitutes," Fabian shook his head, then turned to Geralt, eager to ask, "What about you? What are you planning to do after the match?"

Regulus narrowed his eyes; something was wrong.

After the war, marry a beautiful witch, find a quiet place to live and have children. Five children aren't enough, and there won't be any replacements. In any story, saying this is a standard harbinger of death.

He looked at Fabian's oblivious face and the glimmer of longing in his eyes, and at the faint smile still lingering on Gideon's lips—

Dolokhov, with his purple flame spell, was surrounded by five Death Eaters until he ran out of ammunition and supplies.

That was years later, but now these two men are sitting on the grass, dreaming about life after the war. Could it be that the seeds of disaster have already been sown today?

"The battle is still ongoing," he said casually, steer the conversation away from the topic, "Why think that far ahead?"

"Isn't it okay to think about it?" Fabian grinned, completely oblivious to anything amiss, and became even more excited: "Let me tell you, the little one in our family, my sister Molly, and her eldest son Bill, who is three years old, walks with a swagger, and even if he bumps into a table, he doesn't cry, he just gets up and keeps running. Charlie just learned to call him uncle, and he says it very clearly."

A soft expression crossed his face, and even his voice softened: "After the war, I'll go back and teach them how to fly brooms. Bill needs to learn the basics, and Charlie can keep an eye on him for now."

Gideon nodded, his expression more composed than his brother's, but his eyes held the same look: "Bill is smart. Last time I went back, I brought him a toy broom. He rode on it and charged forward, knocking over two flowerpots."

Molly scolded him, but he forgot about it immediately and wouldn't let go of the broom.

As Regulus listened, the alarm bells in his heart rang louder and louder.

These two people were setting up flags, high and close together, one after another, with no intention of stopping.

"The child is still young, it's too early to think about these things," he said casually, but his words were already consciously taking a backseat: "We'll talk about it when they're older."

"What do you mean 'early'?" Fabian completely ignored the challenge and became even more excited: "After the war, Charlie should be learning to fly too. We'll teach them together then. Our yard is big enough for them to mess around with."

He turned to look at Gideon: "Right?"

Gideon nodded, about to speak, when Regulus interrupted him.

"You two are quite resourceful," he said, a slight smirk playing on his lips, his tone carrying a subtle hint of guidance. "Let's talk about the war after it's over. First, let's think about what to eat next."

Fabian paused for a moment, then laughed: "You're thinking about lunch right after breakfast? You can eat more than me."

Gideon chimed in, "He eats faster than you."

"That's him... Okay, he is indeed faster than me."

Fabian admitted he couldn't win, but he had no intention of letting Geralt off the hook; in fact, he sensed something was amiss.

She shifted her body to the side, her eyes sparkling, and her words carried a hint of cautious probing: "Seriously, Geralt, don't you have any thoughts about the future? Don't you want to settle down with a good woman?"

Gideon also looked over.

Regulus fell silent, keenly sensing that the conversation was veering in an unfavorable direction.

Fabian and Gideon exchanged a glance.

Fabian raised an eyebrow slightly, Gideon's lips twitched, and then the two simultaneously looked away, their faces showing an expression of "I see."

Such a tough guy, so good at fighting, so cool, yet he's completely uninterested in women.

He could remain silent despite Mrs. Rosmerta's obvious hints. We had been talking about our future for so long, but he didn't respond to a single word and kept changing the subject.

Fabian's expression went through three stages: confusion, understanding, and respect, which took about ten seconds in total.

Then he nodded solemnly, patted Geralt on the shoulder, and said sincerely, "Geralt, everyone has their own way of life, and we completely understand."

Gideon nodded in agreement, his expression serious.

Regulus's face immediately darkened: "You've got the wrong idea."

Fabian quickly waved his hand, his expression exceptionally tolerant: "No need to explain! Really! We're completely..." Regulus emphasized, even adding a threat: "I said, you're thinking dirty thoughts."

Gideon coughed and tugged at Fabian's sleeve.

Fabian shut up, his eyes filled with incomprehension but also with respectful tolerance.

Regulus's lips twitched as he watched the two men suddenly become overly polite.

Destroy it.

He stood up, intending to leave this troublesome place. Staying any longer would only cause the misunderstanding to escalate, and he couldn't very well beat them up again.

What did that turn into? A fit of rage and shame?

Fabian jumped up from the grass and followed, his steps light and quick, while Gideon walked at the very back, the subtle smile still lingering on his lips.

The two brothers followed behind him, neither of them mentioning women again, but their deliberate silence was louder than any words.

Regulus quickened his pace.

On the other side of the hillside, under an old beech tree.

Dumbledore was already standing there, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his travel robe, leaning against the trunk of the tree.

Sunlight filtered through the tender leaves of early spring, casting dappled patterns of light on Pei's long, silvery hair and beard.

He was there from beginning to end, the morning breeze blowing across the hillside, carrying fragments of the young wizards' shouts and laughter.

Regulus gathered his strength to spar with two young men almost twice his age, using high-speed maneuvers, basic spells, and punches and kicks to disrupt their rhythm and pull them together.

The Pewter brothers also performed well; they weren't discouraged by being overwhelmed, nor were they frustrated by losing, and they had excellent teamwork, laughing from beginning to end.

Good children.

After finishing their fight, the three sat on the grass chatting. Sunlight bathed them; one had white hair, and the other had reddish-brown hair. The morning breeze made their robes flutter.

It was hard to hear what they were talking about, but you could see Fabian gesturing wildly and Gideon nodding occasionally.

Then Fabian seemed to pat Regulus on the shoulder with a very serious expression, and Regulus's face seemed to darken.

Dumbledore's eyebrows twitched sharply.

Ok?

What shameful thing happened between the young people?

Blue eyes curved even deeper. He straightened up from the tree trunk, brushed the bark off his robe, and walked toward the three people on the hillside.

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