Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Andromeda was behind the bar, head down, doing accounts. He had an open kraft paper ledger, flipping through the data with his left hand and ticking off the numbers with a pen in his right.

Her long black hair was pulled back, with a few stray strands falling beside her ears, revealing the side profile of her neck.

Hearing the bell, she put down her pen, looked up, and gave a gentle smile: "bonsoir, bienvenue."

Regulus walked up to the bar.

Baruch turned the spider's head from left to right on his shoulder, and its eight amber eyes began to examine the chandelier on the ceiling, the sugar bowl on the bar, and the croissants in the glass case.

He placed both hands on the edge of the table and said in French, "un express, avec du whisky pur feu."

A shot of espresso, with a touch of fire.

Andromeda saw Regulus.

He was wearing a dark gray suit, a white shirt, and no tie. He had grown taller since the last time we met, and his facial features were more defined, with higher brow bones and a sharper jawline.

At twelve years old, he acted like a precocious little adult, but now he's grown into a teenager.

A small, dark red thing, about the size of a palm, with many eyes, was perched on my shoulder.

Andromeda paused for a moment, then laughed, her eyes curving upwards, her lips parting to the sides, her whole face lighting up.

Her voice was full of laughter: "Little wizards can't drink alcohol."

She came out from behind the bar.

Regulus then noticed her belly; the dark blue maternity dress stretched taut across her abdomen, creating a rounded curve, suggesting she was about five or six months pregnant.

The skirt was made of cotton and linen, with loose cuffs and a hem that reached the calves. She wore a knitted cardigan over it, with the sleeves rolled up to her forearms.

Andromeda walked up to him, looked him up and down, and smiled happily: "You've grown taller again."

Baruch clicked on Regulus's shoulder, and his eight amber eyes shifted from the ceiling to Andromeda's face, his chelicerae opening slightly.

Andromeda's expression paused subtly for a moment.

Regulus patted its carapace: "Don't scare me."

Baruch ignored him and continued to stare at Andromeda.

"Its name is Baruch."

Upon hearing his name, Baruch raised his front leg and waved it. Andromeda laughed and also raised his hand and waved.

A noise came from the direction of the control room, and a man with light brown hair lifted the curtain and came out. His hands were still covered in coffee powder, and he wore a dark blue apron tied around his waist with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He saw a young man in a suit standing in front of the bar. He was stunned for a moment, then he saw Andromeda's smiling face and the appearance of the newcomer.

Black hair, gray eyes, the iconic silhouette of the Black family.

"Regulus!" Ted strode over, rubbed his hands on his apron a couple of times, and then stretched them out.

Regulus shook hands: "Ted."

Ted looked him over and grinned, "You look much more energetic and stronger than the last time we met."

After a few brief pleasantries, Ted, being quite perceptive, glanced at Andromeda, whose eyes were shining with anticipation and who seemed eager to sit down and chat for three hours straight, then looked at Regulus, and reached behind him to unbutton his apron.

"I'm going to the market to buy some things. Come over for dinner tonight."

He folded his apron twice, placed it on the side of the bar, and turned to Andromeda, saying, "You two talk first."

Andromeda smiled and nodded.

Ted pulled a cloth bag out from under the counter, nodded to Regulus, and went out the door.

The brass bell on the door rang again.

Andromeda turned around, took a white porcelain cup from the shelf, and busied herself in front of the coffee machine for a while.

The concentrated extract was poured into a glass, and hot milk was added from a nearby pot. The glass was then placed on a tray.

"café crème, unflamed whisky."

I poured myself a cup of chamomile tea. The pale yellow liquid was steaming in the glass. I'm pregnant, so I've given up caffeine.

Andromeda placed the tray on the small round table by the window, smiling easily: "Drinking coffee at this hour? Aren't you going to sleep tonight?"

"I wasn't planning on going to bed early anyway." Regulus shrugged, walked over, sat down, and tapped the table lightly with his finger, activating a soundproofing spell.

The sky outside the window was almost dark, and all the streetlights were on.

On the second-floor balcony of an old apartment building across the sidewalk, a woman was watering flowers. Water dripped from the bottom of the flowerpots and fell onto the first-floor awning with a pattering sound.

The bakery diagonally across the street was closing up shop, and the staff were stacking empty baking trays at the door.

A young mother pushing a stroller passed by the window, and a chubby little hand reached out from the stroller, grabbing at the air.

Andromeda pushed the coffee towards him, then sat down opposite him with her own teacup: "When did you arrive in France?"

"Just this month, my family has some businesses in Provence, so we came here to take care of some things."

Regulus picked up his cup and took a sip. The coffee's crema and milk blended together, making it taste better than the DuPont coffee from the estate.

"All done, let's come see my cousin."

Andromeda tilted his head: "Handling things? You?"

Regulus looked at her, and the corner of his mouth twitched to the side.

Andromeda laughed.

She came from the Black family and knew that pure-blood family heirs would begin to get involved in family affairs at a certain age.

Although it was a bit early for Regulus to do these things at his age, only thirteen, he was no ordinary little wizard, and she had known this for a long time.

She didn't press further, but changed the subject: "You've never been to Paris before, have you?"

Regulus nodded: "This is my first time in the city."

"Where did you land?"

"Over there at the Shrine of the Sages."

"You've walked quite a distance," Andromeda said, taking a sip of her tea. "Do you like it, Paris?"

Regulus thought for a moment: "Clean."

Andromeda was amused by this answer and laughed for a while: "It is indeed cleaner than London."

Regulus shook his head inwardly.

I'm not talking about comparing it to London. You'll see in thirty years.

He smiled slightly, his tone friendly: "How's it going in Paris? How long have you been running the shop?"

Andromeda leaned back, one hand on his stomach: "It opened last year. The location isn't great, at the end of Mufuta Street. People on the main road might not necessarily turn in."

But gradually, repeat customers started to appear: a few residents living upstairs, the bookstore owner, and a few Sorbonne students would come and sit for a while every afternoon.

She tilted her chin towards the bar: "Ted learned how to make French coffee, and it's much better than the British way."

"The British way?" Regulus raised an eyebrow.

"The British just pour coffee grounds into hot water and stir it," Andromeda said, his tone carrying the condescending air of someone who had lived in France for a long time and looked down on British cuisine.

"It's different here. He's been learning about the espresso, milk foam, ratio, and temperature for over half a year, and now his latte art is better than mine."

"Ted is talented; he does everything quickly," she said with a smile. "His French is the same; after only six months here, he can already argue with the stall owners at the market."

Regulus's lips curled into a slight smile: "And you?"

"Me?" Andromeda rubbed her stomach. "I'm in charge of greeting customers at the front and occasionally making desserts. Ted thinks my crepes are too sweet, but the customers like them. They always sell out within half an hour of being made."

She said with a smug look on her face, "Would you like to try some? I'll make you one."

"No need," Regulus shook his head decisively. "Dinner tonight will be fine."

Andromeda smiled, clutching his stomach and leaning forward, his eyes crinkling: "We occasionally use a little magic to help out in the shop. The stirring spoon stirs by itself, and the coffee pot keeps itself warm. Muggles can't tell."

Amusement flashed in Regulus's eyes: "Have there been any mishaps?"

Andromeda thought for a moment, then covered her mouth and said, "Once, Ted forgot to take away that stirring spoon, and a guest walked into the kitchen to use the restroom. He almost saw the spoon spinning in the air."

Regulus asked cooperatively, "And then?"

"Then Ted explained to the guest that it was the principle of magnets, and spent three minutes explaining it," Andromeda said, suppressing a laugh. "The guest left looking confused, and is probably still wondering why the spoon in the kitchen could be attracted by a magnet."

Regulus twitched the corner of his mouth.

The café was quiet. At a corner table sat a middle-aged man wearing glasses, flipping through an old book with folded corners, with a cup of cold black coffee in front of him.

There was no one on the benches around the bar, and the second hand of the wall clock ticked away, pointing to 7:30.

Andromeda chatted about everyday things, saying that her neighbors on the street were all nice; the bakery owner would give her an extra croissant, and the old man at the fruit stand knew she was pregnant and always picked out the best oranges for her.

She looked out the window at the street, her eyes softening: "It's nice, much more comfortable than when I was in England."

Regulus listened, watching the expression on her face.

Her whole face was relaxed, her eyebrows were relaxed, the corners of her mouth naturally curved upwards, and fine lines appeared at the corners of her eyes from smiling.

At her wedding last year, she was still trembling as she walked down the aisle arm in arm with him, her eyes welling up with tears several times. At that time, her happiness was earned with courage, and she cherished it as if it were fragile.

Now she has made this happiness a part of her life.

Of the three Black sisters, Bella grows increasingly quiet and dangerous under Voldemort's shadow, Narcissa maintains the dignity of a noblewoman at Malfoy Manor, and Andromeda serves coffee to customers in a small Parisian café while secretly casting spells.

Regulus raised his chin, looking at her belly: "How many months?"

Andromeda looked down and touched her skirt, drawing a small circle with her finger: "Almost six months."

"Have you chosen a name yet?"

"She's up," Andromeda's expression softened, revealing the smugness characteristic of someone who names things. "It's a girl, named Nymphadora."

Regulus's expression underwent a subtle change.

His lips twitched, but he didn't speak. He narrowed his eyes, feeling an unbearable urge to utter a curse.

Andromeda laughed at his reaction: "What's wrong?"

Nymphadora, a gift from a fairy.

The Black family has a long tradition of naming their children based on constellations and mythology.

Andromeda left the Black family, was expelled, married a Muggle-born wizard, and opened a café in Paris, but when it came to naming her daughter, this aesthetic clearly remained with her.

The name she gave her daughter was still based on classical mythology: Fairy, Gift, long and gorgeous.

He called himself Regulus, the brightest star in Leo.

Sirius is called Sirius.

Bella's name is Bellatrix.

I paused for a moment, thinking about Bellatrix, a female warrior, and also the name of Betelgeuse.

It's a bit unlucky.

Why is Bella called that?

I need to find an opportunity to change it for her.

He pulled his thoughts back, but Andromeda was still smiling at him.

Regulus looked at him, a slight smirk playing on his lips, his expression indescribable: "Cousin, your daughter probably won't let anyone call her that in the future."

"Why?" Andromeda asked matter-of-factly.

"It's too long and too complicated. My classmates will laugh at me when I go to school."

Andromeda remained unmoved and even proud, saying, "I think it sounds beautiful. It's a gift from a fairy, and it suits her perfectly."

Regulus shook his head and said nothing more.

The name Nymphadora sounds classical, flamboyant, and pretentious in English, making it very out of place in modern daily life.

It's like a Chinese child named "Heaven-sent Fairy Child" who would be laughed at by his classmates on his first day of school.

Tonks hates the name because it sounds awful and pretentious.

Every time she is called by her full name, it feels like reading a poem full of flowery adjectives in public, so she forces everyone to call her by her surname, Tonks, and will get angry with anyone who calls her Nymphadora.

When this child is born and grows up, and knows shame, their reaction should be quite interesting.

"Just you wait and see," Regulus said, looking at Andromeda's belly with certainty, "she'll demand that everyone call her by her last name from now on."

Andromeda didn't believe it: "No way, Nymphadora sounds much better."

Regulus narrowed his eyes, but didn't argue with her.

Poor child, your uncle tried to help you, but your mother insisted.