Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 476 Strolling through the Magical Shopping Streets of France

On the fifth day after arriving at the estate, Baruch had already settled down on the west slope.

The experimental plot of young vines that DuPont allocated to it, which was just a clearing with tilled soil five days ago, is now covered with cobwebs.

Silvery-white threads radiate outwards from the center, connecting the surrounding rows of young vines in concentric circles. The structure is clear and the layers are distinct. When the sunlight shines on it, the entire net sparkles.

It wasn't just randomly strung together; it was planned and laid out, with each main thread of the spider web aligned with the root of a young vine.

Judging from the density and orientation of the netting, it is building an irrigation system, with morning dew flowing along the threads to the nodes and then sliding down the main line.

Every morning, it would follow Regulus out of the main house and then run to the west slope on its own, returning only in the evening, its eight legs covered in mud and occasionally adorned with fragments of tender leaves.

Every time they come back, their butts are twitching, and they're more excited every day than the day before.

DuPont passed by Xipo several times. On the first day, he was worried; on the second day, he was confused; on the third day, he accepted it; and on the fourth day, he stopped going.

Compared to the uncared-for vines next to them, the young leaves of the spider-cared-for vines were indeed wider and darker in color.

Regulus stood at the window on the second floor of the main house, watching Baruch's dark red figure darting back and forth among the trellises in the distance, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

The pace has been very slow these past few days, so slow that it feels a bit strange.

As for maintaining the protective charm, Felix, given his status, had already done what he was supposed to do and followed the proper procedures. Now that the real person had arrived, there was no need to continue pretending.

The repairs were fake, but the routine maintenance was real. He told Felix to continue managing things as before and didn't plan to personally get involved in plastering and painting.

There's nothing to explain to anyone. If I don't want to work, I just quit. I'm slacking off, I'm free, and I'm on vacation in France.

It's a nice place here, lots of sunshine, and we've switched to English breakfast, drinking milk with every meal.

Felix had a few French magical documents on hand, which he flipped through. They were about protective spells and manor management, all basic stuff and not very interesting.

But there was one area he had always wanted to work on: alchemy.

The British magical community is practically a wasteland when it comes to alchemy; the book "Basic Alchemy Theory: From Hermes to Paracelsus" in the Hogwarts Library is just a publicly available document.

The truly systematic teaching of alchemy took place in continental Europe, in France.

Beauxbatons has formal alchemy courses. Since we're already here, it would be a waste not to find some proper textbooks to study.

At the breakfast table, Regulus stuffed the last piece of bacon into his mouth and took a sip of his coffee with milk. "Felix, is there an alchemy bookstore in Marseille?"

Felix, who was holding a coffee and reading a manor weekly, looked up when he heard this: "There's one in the old port area, it's been open for decades, over in the arcade. French wizards go there to buy books and materials. Is the young master looking to buy textbooks?"

"A few introductory and advanced books, the ones Beauxbatons used."

Felix didn't ask why, nodded, finished the last sip of his coffee, and stood up: "I'll lead the way."

Regulus grunted in agreement, went upstairs to change his boots, and left Baruch busy on the west slope, so he didn't need to be taken along and could play by himself.

The phantom teleported to Marseille, landing in a narrow alley in the old port area.

The dock warehouses and old stone walls on both sides have been eroded by sea winds and salt spray for hundreds of years. The walls are mottled, and the cracks in the stones are filled with dried barnacle shells. The air is salty and damp, mixed with a strong smell of diesel.

The world of Muggles ends here.

Felix walked to an iron door on the wall that was so rusted that its original color was no longer recognizable, and tapped the rivet in the upper right corner twice with his wand.

The rivet turned halfway, and the iron gate silently shrank back into the wall, revealing a stone passage. The passage was short, and there was light at the end.

As you pass through the passageway, your view suddenly opens up to an arcade street.

A rectangular plaza with colonnades on three sides, featuring Mediterranean-style stone columns and semi-circular vaults; the columns are thick and the vaults are wide.

A semi-circular arch spans between two pillars, one after another, forming a row that supports a two-story corridor. The stones have been tanned to a honey color by the sun over hundreds of years.

Below the arcade are rows of shops, with storefronts much wider than those in Diagon Alley. Shelves stretch from inside the shops to the pillars, and some shop owners sit on chairs by their doors, basking in the sun, only slowly greeting customers when they arrive.

The fourth side is open, a small section of the inner harbor with a few masts swaying on the water, seagulls perched on the masts cawing, and the Mediterranean Sea in the distance.

In the middle of the square was an open-air market, with blankets spread on the ground, vendors squatting behind the blankets, and their goods displayed directly in the sunlight.

Some had set up sunshades, with striped canvas draped over two wooden poles, billowing and collapsing in the wind; others were too lazy to set them up, leaving people and goods to dry together.

The sunlight shone directly down from above, making the entire square dazzlingly bright. The air was salty, and the sea breeze blew in from the direction of the harbor, carrying the scent of spices.

The ingredients used by sorcerers in southern France for their potions often come from North Africa and the eastern Mediterranean coast: cardamom, saffron, cloves, cinnamon—all crammed into their noses.

There were many people, but it didn't feel crowded. The French strolled at a slower pace than the British, and no one was in a hurry.

Some people were standing in front of the stall chatting with the sellers. As they chatted, they squatted down, and after chatting for a while, they simply sat on the ground.

Someone was leaning against a stone pillar smoking a pipe. The smoke swirled above his head in the shape of small animals. A smoke rabbit was chasing a smoke mouse, and they ended up tangling together.

The main language is French, with occasional glimpses of Italian and Arabic, a legacy of the Mediterranean trade network.

Regulus followed Felix, his gaze sweeping from the ores on the stall to the old bookshelves under the pillars, and then from the old bookshelves to the potion ingredients shop next door.

The overall atmosphere here is relaxed; it's like a spontaneously formed market—orderly but not strict, with rules but not taken too seriously.

Compared to this place, Diagon Alley is a pretty proper commercial street.

Felix led him into a bookstore under the arcade. The wooden signboard was faded by the sun. The storefront didn't look big, but once you pushed the door open, it was very deep inside, and it got darker and darker the further you went in.

The bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, with ladders leaning against them. Some of the steps had cats lying on them—yellow, gray, spotted, and furry. If someone touched them, they would just change their position and continue sleeping.

The books were all in French, and they were of a wide variety, including magical theories, potion recipes, transmutation, and magical zoology.

But there were also quite a few non-magical items; several bookshelves were filled with poetry collections and play scripts, with Molière and Racine placed next to a "Pictorial Guide to the Native Plants of Provence".

On another shelf were several art books with nude figure sketches on the covers, next to a book titled "The Evolution of Gallic Runes in the Fifth Century".

Behind the counter sat a little old man, mostly bald on top, with the rest of his hair neatly combed back. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, and his skin was much whiter than that of people from southern France. Two nasolabial folds at the corners of his mouth stretched down to his chin, making him look rather dry and wiry.

Felix walked over and greeted him in French. The old man looked up from his book, took off his glasses and placed them on the counter, and nodded: "Mr. Laval, it's been a long time."

Felix stepped aside to let Regulus pass and said directly, "Beauxbatons' alchemy textbooks, from third to seventh year, and a few more advanced ones."

Regulus nodded politely, but only received a reserved look from the old man in return.

Felix frowned, his tone less than polite: "Please hurry up."

The old man shrugged, turned and walked deeper into the bookshelf. A few minutes later, he came out carrying a stack of books and placed them on the counter.

The spine of the topmost book has a pale gold chain pattern, with lines that slowly rotate and glow along a fixed trajectory.

"Principes Fondamenta de l'Alchimie," a Beauxbatons introductory textbook for third grade.

The following books, from fourth grade to seventh grade, have cover colors that gradually darken, from blue to indigo to dark purple and then to pure black.

Regulus opened the book and glanced at the table of contents.

The magical affinity of matter, the drawing and activation of basic alchemical circuits, material identification, and the principles and practices of directional transformation.

The introduction mentions Hermes Trismegistus and the Emerald Book, briefly stating that the theoretical foundation of alchemy can be traced back to the principles recorded in the Emerald Book.

I flipped through the later books. The fourth grade covers intermediate circuits and complex transformations, the fifth grade covers the deep magical structure of metals, and the sixth grade begins to involve the theory of interactive transformation between magic and matter.

He closed the seventh-grade book after flipping through two pages. The density and depth of the content suddenly increased. He could understand some of the terms, but he couldn't connect the concepts and needed the foundation from the previous books.

He closed the book, looked at the shop owner, and asked in English, "What about the advanced ones?"

The old man glanced at him again, this time with a look that was not only reserved but also carried a Frenchman's opinion of the British.

When did the British start paying attention to alchemy? And in such a small place at that.

He didn't let this thought show on his face; he might look down on people, but that didn't stop him from doing business.

Regulus's lips twitched slightly; he roughly knew what the old man was thinking, but he was too lazy to say anything.

Arrogant Frenchmen, the alchemist is Lemaître, what does that have to do with you mediocre guys?

A short while later, two more books were placed on the counter.

One book discusses advanced configurations of alchemical circuits, and the other is a monograph on the magical structures of metals. Both are French academic publications. I had never heard of the authors, but the spines of the books bear the Beauxbatons school crest.

Neither of them is cheap. In the magical world, all knowledge has a price. The seven books together are enough to feed an average wizarding family for half a year.

Regulus took out more than seventy Galleons from his purse and laid them out on the counter.

Geralt may freeload when he goes out, but the young master of the Black family is never short of gold.

The shopkeeper wrapped the book in kraft paper, tied it with hemp rope, and handed it to Felix, who took it and carried it in his hand.

As I stepped out of the bookstore and back into the sunlight, my eyes were momentarily dazzled.

Passing through the open-air market area, a stall displayed various metal blocks and ores.

Copper plates, tin blocks, silver bars, and several pieces of magical alloy with iridescent surfaces.

There was also a dark gray ore with a rough surface and fine silver veins visible at the cut. The label said it came from Morocco and had excellent magical conductivity, making it suitable as a base for alchemical circuits.

Next to it were several fingernail-sized pieces of copper-colored metal, made in Spain, with a name in French that I didn't recognize.

Next to it was a small jar of grayish-white powder with a simple diagram of an alchemical circuit on the label, indicating that it was made in Greece.

The market for alchemical materials in Britain is virtually nonexistent because there is no demand. Hogwarts does not teach alchemy, and British wizards do not practice alchemy, so the materials naturally do not circulate.

In France, it's a different story. Every year, Beauxbatons graduates a batch of wizards who have studied alchemy. Once the market is established, the supply chain follows.

Regulus stopped at the stall and bought a few pieces of metal to practice with.

A few steps further on, there was a stall selling magical spices: magical versions of lavender, thyme, and rosemary, all Provençal specialties, neatly bundled and laid out on a rug.

It looks similar to the regular version, but when you get closer you can feel a faint flow of magic on the leaves.

A few stalls away was a small workshop that did wand maintenance.

The storefront was even smaller than the bookstore from before. A young French wizard sat behind a worktable, wiping a wand with a velvet cloth soaked in a special potion.

Inside, there was a row of samples of various types of wood: rosewood, olive wood, cypress, Mediterranean species, and holly, yew, willow, and blackthorn commonly used in England—completely different systems.

The wand core materials are also more diverse than in England. Veela hair is a common wand core in France, as are fairy wings, elk feathers, and even elytra powder from magical beetles found deep in the North African desert.

It's a non-mainstream material in the UK, but it's on the market here. Ollivander has reservations about many of the cores, finding them somewhat unstable, while the French seem to use them quite casually.

But that's not necessarily a bad thing. The magical world should be diverse and full of different approaches. It would be strange if someone stuck to one path to the bitter end.

After strolling around for about two hours, Regulus and Felix returned the way they came, passing through the narrow alley of the arcade and back to the stone wall between the dock warehouses.

Apparitions, back to the manor.

For the next two days, Regulus stayed in the living room, closing the door to read.

French reading posed no obstacle for him; French was a compulsory subject in the Black family's education system, essential for the pure-blooded family's social and business activities on the European continent.

Five textbooks and two monographs were laid out on a long walnut table, arranged from left to right according to grade level.

He started by flipping through the introductory textbook for third grade.