Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Saturday, June 21, 1974, 11:00 a.m. at Grimaldo Place.

Regulus stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom and fastened the last silver button on his dark black formal robe.

The fabric is handmade wool from an old Italian weaving workshop. It has a matte finish and only reveals subtle silver-gray patterns when you walk. The intricate star pattern extends from the shoulders down to the waist and then spreads out along the hem.

The names that the Black family has chosen from among the stars over the centuries are all woven into this robe; more than thirty names can be found on the front of this robe alone, with Regulus XIV on the left chest, where his heart is located.

The shoulders are sharp, the waistline is slightly tapered, and the hem falls two inches above the ankle, so it doesn't drag on the ground or reveal the boots when walking. The neckline stands up half an inch, making the facial features even more distinct.

The boy in the mirror had grown quite a bit taller, with delicate features, slightly high cheekbones, and very light gray eyes that were almost silver-gray in the morning light.

At thirteen and a half years old, wearing this dark formal suit would look too mature on others, but it suits him perfectly. He has an upright posture, a composed demeanor, and every move he makes exudes the air of an old-timer.

He wore the Black family ring on the ring finger of his right hand. It was silver with black patterns, and the ring face featured the Black family's twin stars and Sirius.

Baruch huddled in the inner pocket of his robe, his amber eyes peeking out from the edge of the pocket, looking left and right, following Regulus's movements as he adjusted his collar in the mirror.

The sound of heels tapping against wooden planks echoed down the corridor. Baruch's eyes darted into his inner pocket, his eight legs curling into an even smaller ball, even the bristles on his carapace flattening.

Walbuga was walking down the stairs, wearing a deep burgundy silk robe, the color of which was calm and rich, and when the light shone on it, it shimmered with a dark red glow, and the hem of the robe trailed on the steps with a soft rustling sound.

The Black family crest, embroidered in silver thread, extends from the right shoulder to the cuff. The hair bun is secured with a silver hairpin, the end of which hangs a thumb-sized emerald, complementing the matching earrings on the earlobes.

Around his neck was the Black family's heirloom necklace, a platinum chain adorned with a thumb-sized black opal, said to have been brought back from Northern Europe by the head of the family three generations ago, hundreds of years ago.

The opal has a natural dark silver line on its surface, which looks like a fading star when viewed against the light.

Black silk gloves were wrapped up to her elbows, her fingers rested on the stair railing, her knuckles were long and slender, and her nails were painted with a very light pearlescent color.

From head to toe, there was nothing wrong with her. In her forties, she was well-maintained and her makeup was so exquisite that it was impossible to tell she was wearing any. She stood there with a cold and elegant demeanor.

She arrived at the bedroom door, leaned lightly against the door frame, and looked Regulus up and down, her lips curving upwards.

With his build, posture, and the composure in his eyes, his son looks every bit the proper heir to Black.

He's only thirteen and he already looks quite impressive. In a few more years, he might surpass all the old guys in the purebred blood circle.

She smiled, walked over, and reached out to straighten his collar.

Actually, Regulus had already dressed up quite properly, but as a mother, she felt that her son had to be touched by her before leaving the house to make it count.

Regulus obediently lowered his head slightly to let her finish.

Walbuga patted him gently on the shoulder, satisfied, then took his arm, and the mother and son went downstairs together.

Orion was walking out of the study, wearing a black formal suit robe, silver cufflinks, and a family ring on his right ring finger that matched Regulus's.

He was in his forties, tall and thin, with a handsome and serious face, and his gray eyes were a shade darker than Regulus's.

The father and son stood together, with black hair and gray eyes, similar features, almost like different age versions of the same face. The height difference was narrowing, and they looked exactly alike.

But their personalities are becoming less and less similar.

Orion is calm and reserved, bearing the marks of time, without any sharp edge. Regulus is also calm, but more relaxed, as if he has seen and thought about everything, and then feels that it's just so-so.

Regulus looked at his father, sized him up, and nodded in satisfaction.

They seem quite energetic.

Orion saw the look in his son's eyes, and his lips twitched.

What's wrong?

Too lazy to bother with her, he turned and walked towards the foyer.

Kreacher, hunched over by the door, offered Orion a pair of black gloves in his withered hands, his long ears twitching slightly.

Walbuga took Orion's arm, while Regulus stood to his father's right.

With a snap, three figures disappeared into the lobby.

The landing point was on the lawn outside Malfoy Manor, about fifty meters in front of the main gate.

In late June in England, the midday sun was dazzling, the sky was a clear blue, and a few wisps of white clouds drifted slowly from the west, casting small, moving shadows.

Malfoy Estate stretched out in the sunlight, much larger than Regulus remembered it to be.

The Space Expansion Spell expanded the garden area by at least three times, extending the original lawn in all directions to create a spacious green plaza.

The grass is a dwarf variety from Wiltshire, soft to the touch but not sinking, and its color has a uniform cool green sheen in the June sun.

From the iron gate of the manor to the main entrance of the building, the shrubs have been permanently transformed into silver arcades, one after another.

The vaulted ceiling is adorned with white and pale purple flowers, with lavender and white roses interwoven in alternating patterns. Flower spikes hang down from the vaulted ceiling, and the entire arcade sways gently when the wind blows.

The fragrance of flowers wafted out from the arcade, rich but not cloying; as you walked under the arcade, you could feel the petals brushing against your shoulders.

Every three meters along both sides of the passage floats a fist-sized crystal ball, each containing platinum-gold magical flames.

The light was soft and even, neither glaring nor dim, illuminating the entire passageway with a warm and translucent glow, even reflecting the silver powder embedded in the cracks of the stone slabs with a subtle shimmer.

A dozen or so white peacocks strolled around the lawn, small bells hanging around their necks. As they moved, the bells jingled and intertwined, forming a complete melody that was both soothing and bright.

Occasionally, a peacock would stop and spread its tail feathers, the white tail feathers unfurling in the sunlight, reflecting the light of a crystal ball, each edge plated with a faint layer of gold.

The manor's main building in the distance was enchanted with a brightening spell, its stone walls reflecting sunlight evenly back, giving the entire building a soft white glow.

A giant wreath, woven from lavender and silver eucalyptus, hangs above the main building's porch. At the center of the wreath is the silver Malfoy family crest, with the letter "m" shimmering in the light.

A number of people had already gathered on the lawn, and small groups of them walked along the silver archway, mostly in dark robes, with occasional traces of a witch's light-colored skirt trailing on the lawn.

You can hear French and Italian mixed in with English, interspersed with a few German phrases and a string of Eastern European accents that are not very clear.

Some people were exchanging pleasantries at the entrance of the arcade, some had already entered the foyer and were walking into the hall, and some were standing by the lawn, holding wine glasses and talking quietly to the people next to them.

The muffled sounds of Apparition came from different directions. On the nearby lawn, under the distant trees, and in the landing area outside the manor wall, groups of newly arrived guests appeared, straightening their robes and being guided into the venue by house-elves.

The Malfoys' house-elves, dressed in matching linen robes, stood in rows on either side of the arcade entrance, bowing and leading the way, then bowing and leading the way again, in a continuous cycle.

There were two wizards in dark uniforms at the entrance, seemingly greeting guests, but actually conducting security checks.

As guests pass by, the silver detectors in their hands will buzz and vibrate, scanning for any malicious magical items they are carrying.

The operation was done discreetly, with the movements disguised as helping a guest store their cape. With a slight bow and a gesture, the detector was hidden inside the cuff, completely invisible from the outside.

Regulus's magical perception spread out the moment he landed, sweeping in hundreds of magical sources within a radius of fifty meters.

Most of it is the scattered magic of ordinary wizards, without much sense of control, mixed together like background noise.

Several of them were noticeably stronger, with compact magical structures; they were older ones, distributed near the main building's porch and deep within the garden.

He didn't deliberately try to identify who was who; he just let his senses stay on and passively received information.

The scene was indeed grand. The Malfoy family had truly taken their status as the face of the British pureblood circle to the extreme, exuding luxury in every aspect without appearing ostentatious.

The guests were not limited to those from Britain; people came from all over Europe, and some of them spoke languages ​​that even Regulus couldn't recognize.

He neither confirmed nor denied it.

Rather than a wedding for two people, it was more like the last grand gathering of the entire British pure-blood community on the eve of war, the last vestige of dignity for the old order.

It will be difficult to have such a scene again in the future.

Abraxas Malfoy stood at the top of the steps leading to the main building's entrance, his hands naturally clasped in front of him.

Her long, silver-gray hair was neatly tied back, and she looked very energetic. She had many wrinkles on her face, with deep lines at the corners of her eyes and on her forehead, but her eyes were not cloudy at all, and her gray-blue pupils shone brightly in the sunlight.

He stood upright, looking down at the entire entrance passage from a high vantage point, a smile befitting his status as the owner of the venue.

Today is his son's big day. He is very happy, but his happiness is tinged with reserve, and his reserve is tinged with enthusiasm.

The silver-green formal robe was embroidered with intricate patterns, within which were hidden the initials of the Malfoy family patriarchs, arranged from the collar down, with Abraxas's own name at the bottom.

It's the same style as the one Regulus is wearing.

He glanced at it and a slight twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth.

His Xuanyuan XIV was right in the center of his left chest; in comparison, he still looked more imposing.

Lucius stood beside Abraxas, his platinum blonde hair cascading over his shoulders, shimmering with a pale silver luster in the sunlight.

His dark gray robe was almost black, with a platinum brooch at the collar, and his eyes and brows exuded confidence and charisma.

With his chin slightly raised, his gaze swept over the guests coming and going, and he couldn't suppress the corners of his mouth as he tried to maintain Malfoy's composure in front of everyone, but it was really difficult to do so. His whole body was shining brightly.

Walbuga linked arms with Orion, and Regulus followed beside his father as the family of three walked down the silver corridor.

Abraxas's gaze fell from the top of the steps, first landing on Orion, pausing for a moment, then on Volbuga, skipping over him, and finally landing on Regulus, pausing a little longer.

O'Brien walked up the steps and took Abraxas's hand.

"Orian, thank you for coming." Abraxas's voice was warm, and he had a genuine smile on his face as he patted Orion's hand.

"Abraxas, today is a day to celebrate." Orion's tone was gentle, and he had a smile on his face.

Walbuga bowed slightly, his posture elegant: "Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy, Narcissa is the most outstanding daughter of the Black family."

Abraxas turned to him, placed his right hand on his chest, and nodded slightly: "Wolbuga, you're too kind. It's our honor that Narcissa is marrying into the Malfoy family."

His gaze had already fallen on Regulus, his grey-blue eyes looking very friendly: "Regulus, the last time we met was at Christmas. It's only been half a year, and you've grown quite a bit taller."

Then he turned to Orion: "Orion, your son is almost as big as you."

Orion smiled without saying a word, glanced at Lucius, and then looked away.

Regulus bowed slightly: "Mr. Malfoy."

"I heard you're doing very well at school," Abraxas said casually, with a hint of teasing. "Slughorn mentions you in every letter he writes, praising you so much I'm almost jealous. Lucius wasn't this diligent when he was in school."

Regulus glanced at Lucius, who shrugged.

Thank you for your concern.

Abraxas smiled and nodded, saying nothing more.

Lucius came up from behind his father, first shaking hands with Orion with a respectful gesture: "Uncle Orion, thank you for coming."

She then turned to Walbuga, bowed slightly, and said in a softer voice, "Aunt Walbuga, Narcissa has been talking about you since yesterday."

When it was Regulus's turn, Lucius abandoned all restraint, his smile spreading from the corners of his mouth to the depths of his eyes. As he reached out, he placed his other hand directly on Regulus's shoulder.

"You've finally arrived."

Regulus smiled and shook his hand: "Congratulations, Lucius."

Lucius leaned closer, a hint of helplessness in his smile, and whispered, "Narcissa has been nervous since yesterday. You should go and calm her down; I can't handle it."

After saying that, he tilted his chin towards the entrance hall: "It's on the second floor."

"You can't handle your wife, but you expect me to?" Regulus raised an eyebrow.

Lucius patted him on the shoulder, quite nonchalantly: "She's more effective with you than with anyone else."