Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 483 is finally coming!

The next morning, Regulus was having breakfast.

The bacon is fried until the edges are crispy, the yolk of the fried egg is so runny that it melts when you poke it with a fork, the toast is toasted until golden brown on both sides, and it's served with a cup of coffee mixed with milk.

Nothing new, just the usual stuff.

Baruch was also eating breakfast, lying on the side of the table, his two front legs holding a piece of Swedish short-nosed saury neck meat.

The chelicerae tore through the dark purple flesh fibers, and blood dripped down the mouthparts, accumulating in a small puddle on the floor.

It eats very attentively, and if a piece of meat falls to the ground, it will pick it up with its front legs and put it back in its mouth.

Felix knocked twice, pushed the door open, and walked to the dining table.

His expression was slightly serious, with a faint line between his brows, but his tone was calm: "Young Master, an old friend from Bordeaux contacted me today."

Regulus placed his fork on the edge of the plate, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and nodded to indicate that he was speaking.

Felix worked in security for nearly twenty years, overseeing the security systems of several of the Black family's estates, from Marseille to Lyon to Bordeaux.

The network of contacts I've built over the past twenty years isn't exactly dense, but it has a wide reach.

He doesn't wield any power, doesn't do business, and isn't involved in shady dealings, but the position of security chief for the Black family is a landmark within that shady circle.

Everyone knows who he works for and that he doesn't participate in the Dutch trade.

Smugglers, black market dealers, and underground potion makers all have information flowing between them very quickly. Some information doesn't even need him to actively cultivate it; someone will naturally leak it to him.

Felix spoke a little faster and more concisely: "Victor Delacroix, the biggest magical creature smuggler in the south of France, has been doing this for over twenty years, and the French Ministry of Magic has never been able to do anything about him."

This guy is ruthless, but he's reliable. His core team has been with him for many years; everyone has their own tasks, they're capable, obedient, and have high execution skills.

Regulus listened, raising an eyebrow.

Felix continued, "His combat ability is not top-notch, but it is not weak either. He is good at defensive spells and trap magic, and he likes to set up the battlefield in advance before making a move."

He's been making some unusual moves lately; his core members are converging on Provence, while he's also recruiting people on the periphery, spending lavishly and targeting only the most daring black wizards.

The direction is most likely here; the timing is hard to say, but it shouldn't be too long.

Regulus asked, "How many people?"

"The core team consists of about ten to fifteen people, and there may be more than a dozen external hires, totaling more than thirty people."

Will Delacroix himself come?

Felix thought for a moment: "Not sure. He's used to directing operations from the rear, but if the stakes are high enough, he'll show up in person."

Regulus held his coffee cup and took a sip.

Thirty-odd people—that's no small feat anywhere. The core members are capable fighters, but not top-tier ones. Truly top-tier combat power wouldn't be content to live under the thumb of a smuggler.

Most of the outer perimeter is cannon fodder, coming for Galon, and their loyalty is zero.

Delacroix sounds like a shrewd man, so he'll definitely send cannon fodder first, let the core team assess the situation before making a move, and if they encounter strong resistance, they'll most likely retreat.

Whether the smugglers are attacking the manor for the magical creatures or something else is irrelevant.

There must be some force behind a man who has been smuggling for twenty years daring to trespass on the Black family's territory.

Moreover, he never comes early or late; he always arrives precisely when he's there, the timing is so perfect that you don't even need to guess.

So it doesn't matter what this person's background is; if they're after him, they'll all be treated as Death Eaters.

But that doesn't mean he has to fall into a trap set by the other party.

The other party wanted to force him to make a move, wanted to see how he would fight, and wanted to learn something from the way he made his move. He was indeed prepared to respond, but he would not respond in the way the other party had planned.

The trap is already there. He can go around it, remove the trap first and then walk over, or he can stand next to the trap for a while and look at the scenery. The initiative must be in his hands.

If the other party thinks he will confront them head-on, then he will deliberately avoid confronting them head-on.

After waiting for half a month, this day finally arrived. He was quite considerate; he had just finished working on the resonant disk on his side when the other side started moving, and the timing was perfect.

It is worth looking forward to.

"Keep an eye on things for now. When I go out, you stay inside and keep watch."

Felix frowned but didn't respond immediately.

He played the role of this young master, although it was a fake role, but during the preparation process, the master gave him enough information.

The thirteen-year-old boy in front of him was more dangerous than most of the adult wizards he had ever met in his life.

But out of professional courtesy, he still said, "I'll go out with the young master."

Regulus shook his head: "There are more than twenty people in the manor. DuPont and the employees are just ordinary wizards. They can't handle anything. You stay inside and keep watch."

Felix paused for a moment, then said, "The master has arranged a reserve force in France, at the Marseille base. I have the authority to activate it and can transfer it at any time."

Regulus twitched the corner of his mouth.

His father hadn't told him this, but thinking about it, it made sense. His father knew his abilities: spatial magic and Fiery Blaze. With just those two skills, he had no advantage in numbers.

His father knew why he was here, so the backup force wasn't there to fight for him; it was just right to look after the business.

He suddenly thought of a question: of the power held by the Black family, he had only ever met Gerald Hawke, the former Auror in charge of the family's external affairs and training of new recruits; he had never met any of the others.

Those who could be sent to France by their fathers were at least no less capable than Hawke; we could meet them after this was all over.

"You can arrange it as you see fit," Regulus said casually, a slight smile playing on his lips. He then added, "Once things start moving here, go and inform the French Aurors. Give me some time to prepare."

Felix's expression changed slightly.

He knew that the young master's purpose in coming to France was not pure. The master had not said it explicitly, but had instructed him that the young master might encounter some trouble here and would need his cooperation.

He thought that cooperating meant helping the young master block the people outside, or guarding the rear while the young master faced the enemy head-on.

But hiring the French Auror was not part of his plan.

He looked at the thirteen-year-old boy in front of him, who was laughing, as if he just thought it was fun.

Felix composed himself, nodded, and said nothing more.

He had already made up his mind. He didn't need to wait to take action; he would contact Orion first. He couldn't be unaware of what was happening with the master. Once the young master made his move, he would then notify the French Aurors.

Felix turned and left the living room, returning to his own room. He took out a bronze disc from a drawer, about the size of a Galon, with the Black family's twin Sirius emblem engraved on its surface.

He tapped it twice with his wand, and a ring of silver-blue light lit up the edge of the disc before dimming.

The signal has been sent.

A moment later, six crisp sounds rang out in succession at the entrance of the manor house, less than a second apart.

The group consisted of six people, half men and half women, ranging in age from their early thirties to their fifties, all dressed in unremarkable dark travel robes, without any uniform attire.

Felix exchanged a few words with them on the porch of the main house, and soon after, there were six more crisp sounds, and they dispersed.

Outside the main house, a man stood under an old olive tree by the gravel road, leaning against the trunk, his gaze directed toward the manor gate.

Another figure landed in the shadows of the stone wall in the backyard, its form hidden in the dark, wand already in hand.

A figure appeared at the edge of the West Pobaruch spider web radiation zone, standing among the trellises, examining the spider web irrigation system before him.

There are two outposts, one to the east and one to the west, near the ridgeline, covering the slopes to the north and south. There is also a mobile outpost that moves about the estate discreetly.

Felix went into the main house to find DuPont: "There might be something going on. Activate the security plan and increase vigilance."

DuPont frowned. "What's going on?"

Felix briefly explained, "Someone is eyeing the manor."

DuPont glanced past Felix toward the living room, a slight downward smirk playing on his lips: "Young Master."

Felix stopped him in his tracks with a look.

DuPont shut up.

He had been on the estate longer than Felix, managing the vineyards for generations of the Black family.

Everything was fine until this young master who raised the giant spider arrived, and the security plan suddenly went into action. It's obvious who he's after.

He was silent for a moment, then nodded to Felix and turned to walk towards the workshop.

Employees must be notified to suspend fieldwork, close irrigation canals, put the estate on a defensive posture, and everyone should return to the vicinity of the main house and avoid being alone outside.

The Black family updates this process every year, and DuPont rehearses it every year, but it has never actually been started before. Today, it has been started.

Regulus stood up from the table. Baruch had finished eating the dragon meat and was lying on the floor cleaning the remaining blood from his chelipeds with one of his forelegs.

Seeing Regulus stand up, it also propped itself up, its eight amber eyes looking in his direction.

With a flick of his finger, a ball of orange-red fire, the size of a fist, shot out from his fingertip, trailing a short tail of flame, and hovered in mid-air.

Baruch took long strides and charged forward toward the fireball.

The fireball fell and hit its head, bursting into flames with a whoosh. Orange-red flames enveloped its entire body, burning from its chelicerae to its spinnerets, and from its carapace to its leg joints.

Baruch rolled over comfortably in the fire, kicking his eight legs wildly in the air, belly up, letting the flames roast him, then rolled back over and roasted all the fur on his body.

Its chelicerae opened and closed rapidly, making a clicking sound that was quite pleasant to listen to.

The flames went out in one second.

Baruch shook his bristles, rattled his spider head, and clicked twice at Regulus. He then used his eight legs to prop himself up, spun around in the air, landed, and launched himself forward, leaping out of the window.

Regulus walked to the window, watching its dark red silhouette run away in the morning light, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

Take it with you when you're fighting. Its small size makes it easy to carry on your shoulder. You don't expect it to help you. There are over thirty people on the other side, so it's pointless to send a spider to take the hits.

But it will be indispensable in future battles, so it's good for it to get used to the environment.