Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 472 The Black Family's Goodies

Regulus closed the door, folded Geralt's vest neatly, and placed it at the foot of the bed.

He took out a lounge robe from the closet; it was dark gray, a style typical of the Blake family.

Baruch was already in bed, rubbing against the pillow. When he had enough, he stuck his spider head into the pillow's crevice, leaving only his hairy rear end sticking out.

Regulus opened the bedroom door and said, "Stay here for now, I'll come back and feed you later."

A claw emerged from the pillow crevice and clicked.

He pushed open the door and went out.

Inside the restaurant, Walbuga was already seated at the table with a glass of red wine in front of him, but no cutlery was set out.

The table was laden with food, with roasted lamb chops arranged on a white porcelain plate, the bone end wrapped in silver foil, sizzling with oil.

Mashed potatoes piled high, butter slowly melting on top, steaming vegetables sizzling, Yorkshire pudding fluffy and crispy, a whole roasted salmon baked to a golden brown, its eyes gleaming milky white.

There was also a steaming bowl of cream of mushroom soup, and an extra dish of braised oxtail with a thick sauce and the meat slightly falling off the bone.

Volbuga stood up and went to greet him, opening his arms and gently embracing Regulus, patting him on the back.

The movements were natural, unlike the time at the funeral when it took a long time to hug her, and unlike before when she would just loosen her grip after a brief embrace.

She took a half step back, placed her hand on his shoulder, looked him up and down, and said with a gentle expression, "My Rael, you've lost weight."

Regulus smiled and said, "No, I ate well."

He sat down at the table, picked up his knife and fork, and began to eat.

I followed Dumbledore for three weeks. We weren't hungry, and the food was good too. Every place had its own unique flavor.

But unlike home-cooked meals, Kreacher's cooking technique, the perfect temperature for roasting the lamb chops, and the exact ratio of butter to the mashed potatoes—these things are always the same, and the taste is just like home.

After taking a few bites, Orion pushed open the door and sat down next to Walbuga. Kreacher poured him a glass of red wine as well.

The parents sat opposite him, Orion holding a wine glass, and Walbuga with his hands folded on the edge of the table, watching Regulus eat alone.

After they had almost finished eating, Walbuga asked, "Why are you going home?"

Regulus glanced at his father, but his father ignored him.

He looked away, swallowed the food in his mouth, and deflected the blame: "My father called me back; it's family business."

Walbuga also looked at Orion, his eyes filled with resentment.

But she didn't say anything. She had kept it a secret before; she was used to being excluded from the family's affairs involving the father and son.

Orion reluctantly accepted the offer, simply explaining, "There's been a problem with the vineyards in France, so I've asked Regulus to handle it."

Walbuga paused for a moment, then asked, "What just happened?"

Orion looked at Regulus and gestured to him with his eyes, "You brought this on yourself, so tell me."

Regulus's cheeks bulged as he mumbled, "Just kidding with Father."

He chewed a few times and swallowed, his tone natural and intimate: "We'll let Mother see the details tomorrow morning."

Walbuga's eyes lit up for a moment, a smile appeared on his lips, then he wiped it away, his brows furrowing slightly.

France is so far away, it's not like Knockturn Alley where you can just take a carriage back. The English Channel separates us, the Floo Network doesn't extend into France, and the Portkey has to be registered with the Ministry of Magic in advance.

Of course she knew how powerful her son was; at the Christmas dinner, she watched him knock Bella down in the rubble.

But that's a duel, a face-to-face contest. It's different outside than at home. No one will go easy on you just because you're Black. On the contrary, that surname is a target.

Regulus is only thirteen years old. No matter how powerful his magic is, how mature can his mind be?

Those old fogies have plenty of ways to make people suffer.

She looked at Orion, but swallowed her words back. The arrangements were already made, and there was no point in saying anything more.

Then he turned to Regulus, a look of worry in his eyes, and began to impart his experience.

"When you're out there, don't believe what other people say. They're being polite to you because you're Black. If you had a different last name, they wouldn't even let you in the door."

France may look glamorous, but the French are more cunning than anyone else. When they tell you news, you only need to listen to half of it; the other half is fabricated to trick you into revealing information.

If they praise you, it means they're preparing to have you take the fall for them; if they say they'll help you, they're already digging a pit for you.

She dumped all of this out at once, and then began to teach Regulus what she thought was right, speaking faster and faster: "Judging an ally is seeing what he gives you when you need him the least."

To judge an enemy, see what they fear. If they fear death, threaten them with their life; if they fear losing face, threaten them with their weaknesses; if they fear losing their position, threaten them with a replacement.

Make people fear you, not hate you. Hate will bring retribution, fear will not.

Bind people with benefits, not favors. Favors fade, but benefits don't. If you have what they want, they'll be your ally; if you don't, they'll turn on you faster than a book can read.

After saying this, Volbuga looked at Regulus, and seeing that he was listening attentively, he thought for a moment and added, "If you really encounter a problem that you can't solve, then use the Killing Curse."

She had seen Regulus use the Killing Curse, specifically on Bella, reciting Avada Kedavra, only halfway through, but the green light was real.

Orion stood beside her, holding a wine glass and occasionally taking a sip. He didn't interrupt Walbuga, as the mother and son were bonding over their relationship, and he didn't say a word.

However, Regulus doesn't seem to need these words much.

What Walbuga said is a survival rule for any thirteen-year-old wizard.

The rules of the pureblood circle, the scheming of people's hearts, the binding of interests—that's how the outside world is.

However, Regulus was no ordinary little wizard. With his power at that level, the schemes and tricks at the tea table were indeed a bit insignificant.

He glanced at Regulus with a mocking look in his eyes.

Regulus happened to be looking over as well, and his lips twitched slightly.

He nodded and agreed the whole time.

Some of what her mother said was true. Interests, leverage, timing—she had lived most of her life in this world, from Miss Black to the mistress of the Black family, and had seen more filth than most wizards had ever heard of in their entire lives.

But she didn't know what he had seen. She had never seen a werewolf camp burned by Fiendfire, a fishing village wiped out, or fought a Death Eater head-on.

What she had witnessed was the backstabbing and intrigue at the tea table and the scheming between families—deadly, but dignified.

He could distinguish between sincere advice based on his mother's experience and excessive worry stemming from her lack of experience with true darkness.

There's no need to argue. The more she acts like a normal mother, the more he cooperates. Having a mother in the family who constantly reminds him to be careful when he goes out is better than anything else.

As for the killing curse, just listen to it and forget about it. If you want to kill someone, there are plenty of ways.

He looked at Walbuga and smiled. "I'll remember. Thank you, Mother."

Volbuga seemed encouraged and was about to continue when Orion coughed lightly: "Regulus is leaving early tomorrow morning, so get some rest tonight."

She frowned: "So soon?"

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she stood up, her expression softening, and said to Regulus, "I'll go prepare some things for you. Get some rest."

Then he turned around and left.

Orion and Regulus exchanged a glance but said nothing.

Orion picked up his glass, Regulus forked a piece of roast beef, finished the last few bites, said goodnight to Orion, and went upstairs to his room.

As soon as the door opened, Baruch peeked out from under the pillow. Seeing him come in, he immediately jumped up and ran around the bed several times.

It darted from the head of the bed to the foot of the bed, and then from the foot of the bed to the bedside table, its eight legs moving incredibly fast.

Regulus sat down on the edge of the bed, and Baruch climbed up his arm to his shoulder, his chelicerae clicking against his ear with a crisp, urgent sound.

He glanced at it sideways and smiled slightly: "The dragon meat pouch is at Hogwarts; I didn't bring it back."

Baruch's chelicerae slowly stopped, and all eight amber eyes stared at him. Then he placed his spider head on his neck and made a very soft thud.

It's light and short, with the ending note dropping down, disappearing halfway down.

The little thing felt wronged.

Regulus chuckled, reached out and patted Baruch's back armor, calling out, "Kreacher."

Kreacher appeared abruptly, bowed deeply, his ear tips brushing the floor, and asked in a shrill voice, "What are your orders, young master?"

Regulus said, "Give Baruch a piece of Swedish short-nosed saury, cut into strips."

Baruch immediately sprang off his neck, braced his eight legs on his shoulders, and clattered at Klitch, swinging his front legs into the air once.

Kreacher's large eyes lingered on Baruch for a moment. It still didn't quite like the spider, but its little master's orders were absolute.

It bent over: "Kreacher will go and prepare."

It disappeared with a snap.

Before long, he returned carrying a silver platter, in which dark purple strips of dragon meat were neatly cut and arranged in a row.

Baruch sprang onto the table, its chelicerae outstretched, and pounced to bite. Its chelicerae and mouthparts worked in perfect harmony, and blood seeped from the cut surface of the meat strip, spreading across the silver plate.

Blood stained his legs, leaving a trail of dark red footprints on the edge of the plate.

After finishing the last one, it scratched the bottom of the plate twice to make sure it was gone, then plunged into the fireplace flames with a sizzle, and the dragon meat juices and blood on its bristles rose in a small wisp of white smoke.

It rolled over in the flames, roasted belly up, and spread itself out like a dark red little blanket.

Regulus quickly washed up, lay back in bed, closed his eyes, and went straight to sleep.

......

A family of three at the breakfast table.

Toasted bread, soft-boiled eggs, fried bacon, a pot of Darjeeling cheese, a small dish of smoked salmon, a few pieces of roasted tomato, and a bowl of oatmeal.

Regulus changed into a robe he wore when going out, a dark black, everyday style. Baruch huddled in the inner pocket, lying there peacefully.

After finishing his meal, Orion picked up the newspaper, and Walbuga stood up: "I have a few things for you to take with you."

She took a dark velvet bag from the cabinet next to her, untied the drawstring, and laid out the contents one by one on the table.

The first item was a ring, a platinum band with a gleaming green snakeseye stone set in it.

Walbuga picked up the ring, placed it in his palm, and showed it to Regulus.

"The Withering Ring emits a grayish-white light. Once it hits a person, that person will begin to dehydrate and wither from the point of impact. They won't die immediately, but will watch themselves shrivel up inch by inch."

The skin first turned gray, then the blood dried up, and finally the bones shattered on their own, but the person remained conscious until the very last moment.

She turned the ring over, revealing a ring of tiny runes on the inside of the band: "The gemstone will darken after each use and needs to be replenished. The ring can be placed against any living thing—"

Pronounce it as 'Exsugere Vitam'.

She slowed down and read it syllable by syllable: "Ex-su-ge-re Vi-tam, you do it once."

Regulus blinked and looked at his mother.

Walbuga looked at him intently.

Regulus repeated it after him, pronouncing it accurately.

Walbuga nodded in satisfaction and placed the ring back on the tablecloth: "When the gemstone regains its luster, it's full."

She didn't say what she used to fill it up last night.

The ring lay quietly on the tablecloth, green light shining through the gemstone and casting a small, pale green patch on the tablecloth.

She nudged it toward Regulus, her expression extremely gentle.

The second item was a palm-sized, double-layered dragon-skin bag, sealed tightly. She picked it up and placed it next to the ring.

"Wailing Dust, used by the Black family to clean up traitors. The powder will find people on its own when it's scattered out, and if you inhale it, it will burn you through."

The screams of the dead will be absorbed by the powder, then exploded out again. Anyone who hears that scream will also be hit, resulting in a multi-person blast.

She carefully placed the dragon belt down, her expression turning serious, and earnestly instructed, "Curses don't discriminate; you must first apply the head-bubbling curse before using it."

Regulus nodded under his mother's gaze.

The third item is a gold coin, the size of a Galleon, with a snake ring engraved on the front, its head and tail intertwined. The snake's body is covered with fine ancient Latin curse runes, and its eyes are two dark red blood spots.

Walbuca picked up the gold coin, gently stroked it, and said in a slightly reminiscent tone, "It played a part in the Black family curse's rise to fame among pure-blood circles in Europe during the Middle Ages."

She continued, "Blood Oath Coins, once activated, allow you to state a condition. If the other party refuses, the curse will be triggered."

The cursed person's blood begins to boil, their magic becomes completely out of control, and they are dried out from within by their own magic until they become a charred corpse.

She placed the gold coins next to the ring, arranging the three items in a row: "The gold coins won't run out. You can just reactivate them by dripping blood each time you trigger them. Those two red dots are left over from the last activation."

Regulus picked up the gold coin, twirled it between his fingers, and the bloodstains on the snake's eyes appeared dark in the morning light.

"The real power of this thing is not killing people, but making people know the consequences of not agreeing before they even agree to the conditions. The more specific the conditions are, the better; if they are vague, the curse's effectiveness is halved."

Having it in hand makes your terms irresistible during negotiations.

Three items were placed on the tablecloth: the green glow of the ring, the dark color of the dragon-skin bag, and the blood-red of the snake's eyes on the gold coin, all bathed in the morning light and the tablecloth.

Orion watched from the side, his expression somewhat complicated.

The snake-eye stone on the ring was a bright green, and he could tell at a glance that it wasn't obtained from animals.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Regulus examined the items.

The things Mother brought out were indeed ruthless; the Black family's heritage was fully demonstrated in these sinister cursed creations.

A ring that can wither life, dust that kills a whole area with a single hit, gold coins that dry out people with their own magic—each one is designed to kill.

These things, if in the hands of any ordinary wizard, would be enough to get him imprisoned in Azkaban until he dies.

However, for him now, the scenarios in which these things were applicable have passed.

He has passed the stage where he needs alchemical artifacts to survive; his own strength now exceeds the threat these things can pose.

But he didn't refuse; his mother didn't know any of this.

In her eyes, he was her thirteen-year-old son traveling alone for the first time, and these things were the best protection she could think of.

He stood up, shoved everything into his pockets, looked at his mother, and said gratefully, "Thank you, Mother."

A smile appeared in Walbuga's eyes as he saw that Walbuga had accepted them all.

Then he took out a small leather bag from the side, opened the bag, and took things out one by one.

"Several new robes, Italian blend wool, thinner than the winter ones, since it's already warm in the south of France in April."

She folded the robe and placed it next to her handbag, then took out two pairs of new leather shoes: "Leather from the back of a Welsh green dragon, lined with cashmere."

Next was a small cloth bag: "Energy booster, stomach soothing agent, burn ointment, blood tonic, tranquilizer. Keep these on hand when you're out and about, in case you get an upset stomach."

She took out the bottles one by one and placed them on the table for Regulus to see, then took them back and put them back in the bag.

With everything in place, Walbuga nodded in satisfaction: "What were you talking about last night?"

Regulus smiled, took two steps back, and raised his wand.

A ball of silvery-white light surged from the tip of the staff and condensed into shape in mid-air above the restaurant.

The starry kite spread its wings, its silvery-white light receding, hovering above the dining table. Its shape was clear, its feathers distinct, without radiating starlight or rippling light patterns.

Walbuga's eyes widened suddenly as he stared at the circling silver-white bird for a long while before abruptly turning to Orion.

Orion's face was expressionless, but there was a faint curve at the corner of his mouth.

She turned back to stare at the bird, and after a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice trembling slightly: "Guardian of the flesh—my Rael—"

She reached out, her fingertips touching the silver light, which flowed around her fingers: "You're only thirteen—"

Orion watched from the side, his expression unchanged.

He was the first person in this family to see the starry kite.

Regulus saw his mother's expression, the corners of his mouth turned up, and he blinked.

The starry kite suddenly flapped its wings, and starlight burst forth, with countless points of light scattering from between its wings, illuminating the entire restaurant as a flowing galaxy.

It hovered above the dining table, the trail of its tail feathers lingering in the air, and with each flap of its wings, new specks of light were scattered.

Walbuga looked up at the starlight still clearly visible in the morning light and finally recognized that this bird was not an ordinary animal.

She watched the starlight fall, landing on the tablecloth and on her body, her eyes glistening, her body trembling slightly.

Regulus looked at his mother and said goodbye triumphantly, "Goodbye, Mother."

Starry Sky Kite folded its wings and swooped down from mid-air, its silvery-white light enveloping its entire body, merging the man and the bird into one.

The light shone brightest in the restaurant, then contracted and dissipated, the last ray of starlight landing on the tablecloth, flashing briefly before fading away.

Walbuga stood there, his hand still in the same position as when he had tried to touch the light.

Then she slowly sat back down in her chair, her voice still trembling: "My son is gone?"

Orion sighed.

He looked at the tear stains still on his wife's eyes, then at the breakfast plates that hadn't been cleared from the table, and then at the spot where the silver light had disappeared.

Now it was his turn.