Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

In the spring of 1966, Regulus turned five.

At five years old, living with the Blake family marked the beginning of formal education.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 3 p.m., Walbuga holds a family honor class in his small study.

A huge Black family tree tapestry hangs on the wall of the room, stretching from the ceiling to the floor, with gold and silver threads embroidering a thousand-year-old network of marriages on a dark background.

Monday, Genealogy.

"Look here," Walbuga pointed to the top of the tapestry with a thin ebony pointer, "Linfred Black, a 12th-century healer, our family's acknowledged progenitor..."

Regulus sat on a hardwood chair, his hands on his knees, his eyes following the movement of the pointer.

"Regulus, repeat what I just said," Volbuga's voice pulled him back to reality.

"From 1578 to 1623, the Black family intermarried with the Rozier family four times and with the Foley family three times, interspersed with marriages with Crouch and Travers, forming a stable structure," Regulus answered fluently.

Walbuga nodded in satisfaction, then turned to Sirius: "And you?"

Sirius squirmed in his chair: "Who can remember all of these! They're all dead people's names!"

"They are your ancestors!"

"Dead is dead," Sirius muttered.

Walbuga's face darkened, and he was about to explode in anger when Regulus interrupted him in time: "Mother, I have a question."

"explain."

"Why did we only intermarry with the twenty-eight pure-blood families after the fourteenth century?" Regulus pointed to an earlier section of the tapestry: "This shows that from the twelfth to the fourteenth centuries, the Black family also intermarried with the Pewter, Macmillan, and even the Burns families, but that relationship ended thereafter."

Walbuga's expression stiffened for a moment: "Because those families have fallen into depravity."

"How did you fall into depravity?"

"They've started accepting Muggle-borns, even marrying Muggles," Walbuga's voice turned stern. "The bloodline has been tainted. It's our responsibility to keep the Black family pure."

"But the Pewter family is still on the list of the Twenty-Eight Clans," Regulus pointed out.

"That's a compromise! The Ministry of Magic's list of fools!" Volbuga's cane slammed on the tapestry, and several portraits shrank back in fright. "True pure-blood families are becoming increasingly rare, and we are the last beacon of a tainted world."

It's extremely narrow-minded, but understandable. In a world where magic is a hereditary ability, bloodline does have significance, but attributing everything to bloodline is an oversimplification.

Regulus glanced at Sirius, knowing he was destined not to accept this theory, which was for the best.

A thought suddenly popped into his head: perhaps it would be better for Sirius to leave the Black family.

This idea surprised Regulus himself, but upon closer examination, the logic made perfect sense.

The Black family will side with Voldemort in the future, except for Sirius Black and Andromeda.

If Sirius is destined to rebel, then he should leave sooner and join the opposing side as soon as possible; perhaps then he will be better able to survive in future wars.

And he himself, Regulus Black, was destined to be shrouded in darkness.

He needed the Black family's resources, his pure-blood status, and access to the Death Eater core to gain knowledge.

He and Sirius were on two paths that would inevitably clash sooner or later.

Wednesday, the theory of racial superiority.

“Muggles are incomplete creatures,” Walbuga paced in her study, a habit she had when she was in a fit of emotion. “They have no magic, like birds without wings or fish without gills; they are failures in evolution.”

Sirius raised his hand, as Regulus had taught him: to raise his hand when his mother asked questions during a lesson to avoid directly contradicting her.

"explain."

"But Muggles can build airplanes," Sirius said. "Airplanes can fly, even without wings."

Walbuga sneered: "A clumsy imitation, made of metal and fuel, noisy and polluting the air. A wizard's flying broom is elegant, quiet, and environmentally friendly."

"But airplanes can fly higher, faster, and carry more people," Regulus added calmly.

The room fell silent. Walbuga stared at his second son: "Are you defending Muggles?"

“I’m stating the facts,” Regulus said. “Mother, if we are truly superior to Muggles, we should surpass them in every way.”

If we can only console ourselves with the idea that magic is more elegant, while they surpass us in speed, load capacity, and height, then who is truly superior?

Sirius gasped, waiting for his mother to explode.

But Walbuga didn't explode; she just stood there, her lips moved, but she didn't say anything.

Regulus continued, "Perhaps the issue isn't about who's superior, but about what we choose to develop. Muggles develop technology, we develop magic."

But if we remain stagnant and cling to our traditions while Muggle technology continues to advance, one day the gap will become too large to ignore.

"The Ministry of Magic has a secrecy law..." Walbuga's tone softened.

"The secrecy Act is based on the premise that Muggles won't find out," Regulus said. "But what if one day Muggle technology can detect magic?"

What if they invented a device that could see through the Illusionary Body Charm? What if we were still debating blood purity while they could already break the Muggle Expulsion Charm?

After a long silence, Walbuga finally said, "That's enough for today."

She left in a hurry.

Sirius leaned closer and whispered, "You scared her."

"Perhaps," Regulus jumped off the hardwood chair, "but someone has to tell the truth."

"Why are you speaking up for Muggles?" Sirius asked curiously.

“I’m not taking sides with Muggles,” Regulus looked at him. “I just hate lies. If we’re truly powerful, we don’t need to belittle others to prove it.”

Sirius nodded, seemingly understanding.

......

At dinner, Walbuga recounted the latest news he had heard: "The Nott family's daughter actually wants to marry a Mudblood! Mr. Nott is so angry that he's locked her in the tower, and they say he's going to send her to a French convent for life."

Sirius was cutting a steak when he heard this and stopped cutting with his knife and fork.

"Why?" he asked. "She likes that person, doesn't she?"

"Like?" Volbuga seemed to have heard the most absurd word: "Can liking something feed you? Can liking something maintain the purity of your bloodline? She's bewitched!"

"But what if two people like each other—"

"Shut up!" Walbuga's voice shrilled. "Sirius, how many times have I warned you? Don't pollute your brain with those Muggle filth ideas! The Black family needs to be responsible! They need to take charge!"

"Is responsibility to lock up your own daughter?" Sirius Black stood up agitatedly, his chair scraping back with a harsh sound. "Is responsibility to separate two people who love each other?"

"She doesn't love him! She was just—"

"How do you know?" Sirius roared back, "You're not her! You don't even know that person!"

Orion put down his knife and fork: "Sirius, sit down."

"No!" Sirius's eyes reddened. "This isn't fair! Why can't we choose the people we like? Why do we have to marry one of the Twenty-Eight Tribes? I don't even know any of those people on the list! Maybe I don't even like them!"

Walbuga stood up, his wand already sliding into his hand: "Say that again?!"

Regulus watched this scene, utterly speechless. Sirius's rebellious nature was on full display at this moment. Even though he didn't understand what love was, he still opposed doing this.

The mother, on the other hand, only oppressed and forced Sirius to accept her pure-blood ideology.

"Mother," Regulus's voice was calm, "Sirius means that feelings are one of the important factors in choosing a partner."

However, from the perspective of family continuity, a stable bloodline is indeed a priority. Perhaps the two can be balanced, for example, by choosing someone one likes within the twenty-eight ethnic groups.

Walbuga paused for a moment, his anger subsiding slightly: "Of course... within the right range, it's even better to have feelings for each other."

Sirius stared at his younger brother, his eyes wounded: "You're taking their side too? You also think bloodline is more important than personal preference?"

“I’m talking about reality,” Regulus met his gaze. “The reality is, the Black family won’t accept Muggle-borns. Those who rebel will be expelled. You have to choose to accept the rules or leave.”

Sirius understood. He looked at his brother, then at his parents, and suddenly smiled.

He turned and left the restaurant without slamming the door or making a scene; he simply walked away quietly.

Orion didn't speak, but just looked at Regulus with a complicated expression.

Dinner continued in silence.