Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Outside the western slope, on the battlefield, the rubble on the ground, baked by the high temperature, was slowly cooling down. The night wind blew by, carrying layers of fine, hot ash.

The shrubs were charred, and the branches remained brittle and crumbled into powder with the slightest breeze.

The ground was plowed with several deep trenches by the Cutting and Exploding Charms, and the Polymorph spell turned up the soil from the ground, mixing it with the rubble.

Several granite pieces had cracks on their surfaces, and hot air was still emanating from the cracks.

The wounded groaned on the ground, the sounds coming from different directions. One of them had a broken leg and was bandaging his wound with a tattered sleeve.

Some people were covered in blood, slumped on the ground, their eyes unfocused, muttering something repeatedly.

The Aurors Apparated and landed, then immediately got to work.

One team spread out to the perimeter of the battlefield to seal off the scene, while another team was responsible for classifying the wounded. Those who could still move were tied up, and those who could not move were first stopped from bleeding and then tied up as well. The dead were placed together.

Laurent Gaston, the senior Auror leading the team, wasn't working with his subordinates; he was currently watching the boy.

Regulus Atallos Black had reviewed the files before landing.

The International Department of Magical Cooperation maintains continuous records of important pure-blood families in neighboring countries; the Black family's files filled three cabinets.

His father, Orion Black, is the head of the Black family and a member of the Wizengamots. His stance has been clearly aligned with Voldemort's.

Mother: Walbug Black, head of the Black family; brother: Sirius Black, Gryffindor, traitor to the family.

Regulus himself was born in 1961, was thirteen years old, and was a second-year student in Slytherin at Hogwarts.

He defeated Bellatrix Lestrange single-handedly at last year's Christmas dinner and burned down Lestrange Estate.

The information comes from rumors within pure-blood families in Britain and France. There is no official confirmation, but the fact that his combat ability far exceeds that of his peers is marked as confirmed in the case file.

The French were far more interested in the internal dynamics of pure-blood families in England than the British Ministry of Magic was.

While Britain was still holding meetings to discuss whether Voldemort was a threat, France had almost finished compiling files on the core members of the Death Eaters.

Gaston himself held the position of Deputy Director for International Security Affairs in the Enforcement Division, so he knew his British colleagues all too well.

Voldemort, a dark wizard who is gathering armed forces in Britain, openly recruits followers and has a clear and organized promotion of the idea of ​​pure-blood supremacy.

The British Ministry of Magic's enforcement department responded by holding a meeting, pretending not to hear the name, and even avoiding writing the full name in official documents, instead using "unmentionable person" as a substitute.

ridiculous.

France had proposed sending a Joint Auror Task Force to the UK during the last Wissengamo joint vote, but the proposal was rejected by the UK on the grounds of sovereignty.

Sovereign jurisdiction: If your backyard catches fire and your neighbor wants to help put it out, you say it's your internal affair.

Pretending to be deaf and dumb will only lead to one's own destruction.

But that's a matter for the British.

As for the man before him, Gaston had already grasped the situation on the battlefield the moment he landed using Apparition.

A young boy took down dozens of adult wizards.

The records are on paper.

Gaston worked in the Auror system for nearly thirty years and handled hundreds of files listing combat abilities far exceeding those of his peers.

Most of it is exaggeration, a small part is that the peers are too bad, but the one in front of us is clearly neither of those.

Gaston stood still, waiting for the boy to come over.

A thirteen-year-old child in a crime scene littered with Aurors and wounded should have taken the initiative to approach the person in charge; that would have been a basic act of cooperation.

He waited a moment, then a while, and continued to wait.

Regulus remained motionless.

Then he tilted his head, shifting his gaze from Gaston to the Aurors who had already begun working.

Several people were stopping the bleeding of the wounded, several were scanning the ground for residual magic with detection spells, and two were squatting next to Delacroix's corpse, poking it back and forth with a copper probe.

Baruch on the shoulder shifted its position, curling up its eight legs, resting its spider head on its forelegs, and staring at the unfriendly-looking human opposite it with its amber eyes.

Gaston waited in place for almost half a minute, and when he confirmed that the boy had no intention of coming over, his face twitched slightly.

Then he walked over by himself, while the two Aurors behind him stopped a few steps away, each turning to the side to guard the perimeter.

Gaston stopped a meter away from Regulus, a distance closer than the standard conversation distance, creating a subtle sense of pressure.

He was more than half a head taller than Regulus, looking down at him with a serious tone and gaze, speaking in English with a heavy French accent.

"Mr. Black, I am Laurent Gaston, Deputy Director of International Security Affairs at the Enforcement Division of the French Ministry of Magic, and the person in charge on site tonight. I need you to tell me what happened here."

Regulus turned his head and looked up at him.

He was in his fifties, with short, gray hair plastered to his scalp. He had a square face, wide cheekbones, deep-set eyes, droopy eyelids, a straight nose, a rather large nose tip, and nasolabial folds that stretched from the sides of his nose to the corners of his mouth, making him look older than his actual age.

He nodded slightly: "Mr. Gaston, my family estate was invaded tonight, and I defended it."

The intruders are likely part of Delacroix's smuggling ring, numbering approximately forty. You can verify the exact composition yourself.

Gaston glanced at him, then at the surrounding battlefield.

Forty-odd people were beaten like this, and you're telling me you acted in self-defense?

As for the name Delacroix, he certainly knew it. He was the biggest smuggler of magical creatures in the south of France, with files stacked up to half a person's height in the department, but they had never caught him with any real evidence. He was done for tonight.

Gaston asked, "When did you discover the intrusion?"

Regulus's lips twitched slightly: "Just now."

Gaston was silent for a moment, his gaze shifting from the palm-sized dark red spider on his shoulder to the bloodstains on the front of his robe.

He then asked, "Are you hurt?"

Regulus followed his gaze, looked down at it, and with a slight thought, the dried bloodstain vanished instantly.

Then he looked up and shook his head: "No."

Gaston nodded, looked away, and immediately uttered a string of familiar phrases: "Mr. Black, this is currently the on-site investigation procedure of the Ministry of Magic's Enforcement Division."

As the only combat participant at the scene, you need to cooperate with our standard procedures, including recounting what happened, identifying the scene, and providing relevant physical evidence.

"I will cooperate," Regulus nodded, then launched into a string of useless platitudes: "The Black family's estate has been legally operating in France for hundreds of years, and security is handled by Mr. Felix Laval. Tonight's intrusion has been repelled, and I have already informed you."

Gaston's jaw muscles twitched.

He opened his mouth to continue speaking when he heard footsteps approaching rapidly from his right.

A young Auror ran over and stopped next to Gaston. He glanced at Regulus out of the corner of his eye, then looked at him again. At first glance, he was surprised; at second glance, he was absurd.

He leaned close to Gaston's ear and whispered, "Mr. Gaston, we detected residual magic from the Killing Curse on three of the injured. One body was clearly killed by the Killing Curse; the man was around thirty years old."

Gaston's expression changed instantly.

Just now, he was being habitually serious, a professional face cultivated over thirty years as an Auror, without much genuine emotion.

The seriousness now is genuine; the brows are furrowed and the lips are closed.

He waved for the young Auror to leave, then turned back to look at Regulus, his eyes hardening and his tone becoming harsh.

"Traces of the Killing Curse were found at the scene; someone died from the Killing Curse."

Gaston tucked his chin in and leaned forward slightly, a posture that made his brow bone appear higher and cast a shadow on his loose eyelids, hiding his eyes.

His gaze pierced through the shadows, and his entire demeanor shifted from a formulaic, businesslike approach to one of sinister, oppressive, and utterly uncompromising.

"I need your wand to undergo a Flashback Charm test; it's standard procedure."

Regulus's magical perception remained.

Throughout the entire western slope, the magical characteristics of the twenty-odd Aurors were clearly perceived.

Most of them are combat personnel, with a sharp, honed texture and a sense of control honed through systematic training, and a stable core.

But three people are different. Their magic is also stable, but it is smoother and less sharp.

Behind Gaston, there was one person whispering to a young Auror, and another standing at the edge of the wounded section, holding a notebook and writing something down.

An administrative staff member arrived at the crime scene. Gaston was the deputy director of the law enforcement division, and several administrative personnel were also there to coordinate with him.

Combat personnel are responsible for the scene, while civilian personnel are responsible for negotiation, characterization, and aftermath.

Therefore, the French side never intended to treat this incident as a simple crime scene from the beginning.

"I can cooperate with the Flashback Charm test," Regulus said earnestly, looking into Gaston's eyes, "if you have a formal letter of assistance from the International Magical Cooperation Division of the British Ministry of Magic."

Gaston lowered his brow bone a little more, making the shadows in his eye sockets even darker, but Regulus wasn't buying it at all.

His tone remained sincere: "I purchased my wand from Ollivander. According to the International Wizarding Federation's Cross-Border Wand Testing Agreement, testing a wand registered in another country requires written authorization from the Ministry of Magic of that country. If you wish to go through the formal channels, you can submit an application, and I will cooperate."

Gaston remained silent for a moment.

He was certainly aware of the International Wizarding Federation's agreement, but would the British Ministry of Magic issue a letter of inquiry for a Black?

Given the Black family's position in Wizengamo, and especially considering that the person before them was the heir of the Twenty-Eight Holy Clans, Minchum probably wouldn't even want to touch this application form, let alone a letter of assistance.

Even if it's issued, the paperwork process, from Paris to London and back to Paris, could take up to half a month.

What's the point of investigating then? Half a month is enough to buy ten new wands.

But he couldn't back down on the spot. There were signs of a killing curse, dead bodies, and he was the leader of the Auror team, with more than twenty subordinates watching him.

Checking the wands is standard procedure; failing to do so is a violation.

Gaston took another step forward, trying to continue applying pressure: "There's a death curse on the scene, dead people, and the caster of the curse. This is no longer just a matter of your manor being invaded. If you refuse to cooperate, I can only conclude that you are concealing key information related to the death curse."

Regulus remained unmoved: "Mr. Gaston, you are making a connection between my self-defense and the death curse, and that very implication constitutes an accusation."

If you have evidence that I am connected to the Death Curse, you can file a formal charge. If not, what you are doing now is pressuring a foreign pure-blood family heir to cooperate with your procedurally flawed investigation.

Gaston's brow furrowed even deeper.

He looked into the boy's eyes, which held neither provocation nor fear, nor any of the typical reactions a thirteen-year-old should have when facing an adult Auror.

His voice softened slightly: "Mr. Black, I understand your position, but someone here died from the Killing Curse—"

Regulus interrupted him, his voice hardening: "I said, we'll go through the official channels."

The air seemed to freeze between the two of them.