Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

The Blake family went into the main house.

The marble floor reflects images clearly, with dark gray natural veins embedded in a white background, stretching from the foyer to the end of the corridor.

The pillars are decorated with gilded reliefs depicting the Malfoy family making pacts with dragons and griffins throughout history. The reliefs are enchanted with illusion spells, with the dragon's wings occasionally flapping and the griffin's eagle eyes turning slightly in the light.

In the corner stood a life-sized silver statue, the first head of the Malfoy family holding a wand, the diamond tip of the wand refracting tiny specks of light, which fell onto the screen wall next to it, casting a small patch of starlight.

The stair railings are made of ebony inlaid with gold thread, and the carpet is so thick that it makes no sound when you step on it.

Several clusters of lavender flowers floated at the corner of the stairs, magically fixed in mid-air and slowly rotating, their fragrance wafting down in waves.

The ceiling was decorated with a starry sky effect similar to that of Hogwarts, with bands of orange-red and purple-blue colors flowing slowly overhead, and occasionally a small point of light would streak across, leaving a thin silver tail.

A mysterious, hidden sound effect played softly, accompanied by a string ensemble of cello and viola, with a soothing rhythm.

The expansion of the entire manor's space wasn't limited to the outside; the corridors were at least twice the actual length, and every corner was adorned with flowers and the light from crystal balls, visually reminding visitors that the Malfoy family was incredibly wealthy.

The family of three went their separate ways. Walbuga walked towards the pile of ladies, Orion was stopped by an old wizard in a dark blue robe, and Regulus went upstairs alone.

On the second-floor corridor, the manor scenery depicted in the oil painting slowly changes between spring, summer, autumn, and winter.

Springtime is lavender fields covering the hillsides, summer is fountains gleaming golden in the midday sun, autumn is maple leaves turning from green to red in the mountains, and winter is stone walls covered with a thin layer of snow.

Regulus stopped at the door of Narcissa's room and knocked twice.

"Come in." The voice came from inside, sounding a bit urgent.

Pushing open the door, Narcissa stood in front of a full-length mirror.

A white wedding gown, made of satin with a mother-of-pearl sheen, adorned with delicate lace at the collar and cuffs, the lace woven with shimmering silver threads.

The skirt trailed about two feet on the ground, with a circle of white roses embroidered around the edge. Tiny rhinestones were embedded in the petals, and when the skirt swept across the ground as she walked, the rhinestones would shimmer with iridescent light.

Her long golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, secured with a silver hair crown shaped like intertwined laurel branches, adorned with small diamonds and pearls, and culminating in an elegant arc at the top of her head.

Beneath the slightly open neckline, a teardrop-shaped white pearl dangled, suspended by a delicate silver chain.

She was looking at herself in the mirror, one hand holding the hem of her skirt, the other touching the pearls on her hair ornament, when she heard the door open and turned around.

Upon seeing it was Regulus, his entire face immediately relaxed, a smile blossomed on his lips, and his eyes crinkled.

"Regulus." She walked over quickly, her skirt brushing the ground with a soft rustling sound, and reached out to grasp his hands, her palms slightly sweaty.

Regulus glanced down at her hand, then looked up at her face, his tone gentle and his eyes sincere: "Cousin, you are beautiful."

Narcissa smiled, withdrew her hand slightly, then released it, her gray eyes looking at him: "Are you telling the truth or just being polite?"

Regulus tilted his head slightly, casually slipping one hand into his robe pocket, and said, "When have you ever seen me use polite words?"

Narcissa laughed out loud, her shoulders relaxing.

She pulled Regulus to the windowsill, and the two of them stood against the windowsill. Sunlight streamed in through the window, shining brightly on her wedding dress.

"I've been looking in the mirror since this morning," Narcissa said quickly, touching her tiara with her fingers before putting it down and fiddling with her skirt. "I've put the tiara on and taken it off, asked seven people if it looked good, and they all said it did, but I don't believe a single one of them."

Regulus took a step back, raised his hand to support his chin, and looked at the person seriously, left and right.

Narcissa looked at him nervously.

"Cousin, the crown is beautiful, and the dress is beautiful too. But you are more beautiful than the crown and the dress. Lucius will be so happy he won't be able to stand up straight when he sees you."

Narcissa gave him a disapproving look, pursed her lips, and tried hard to suppress the upward curve of her lips, but she couldn't help but laugh.

Regulus stepped forward and took Narcissa's hand: "Nervous?"

"I'm not nervous, it's just that after today, I'll be surnamed Malfoy," Narcissa took a breath and slowly exhaled, "The surname Black has been with me for nineteen years."

"The Malfoy name will stay with you longer," Regulus turned his head, and Narcissa's reflection in the mirror overlapped with the Narcissa outside the mirror, both equally beautiful: "But you will always be a member of the Black family."

Narcissa stared at his profile: "Are you speaking on behalf of the Black family?"

Regulus turned to look at her and said softly, "On behalf of myself."

Narcissa's eyes reddened slightly, and she reached out and patted the back of his hand: "Don't make me cry. I spent half an hour just drawing eyeliner this morning."

Regulus's lips curved slightly, and after thinking for a moment, he nodded seriously: "My word carries weight in the Black family too."

Narcissa burst out laughing at his smug expression.

Her eyes were still red, but the corners of her mouth were already turned up. She pressed her finger against the corner of her eye, trying to wipe away the moisture from before, but she couldn't. Instead, her smile widened even more.

"You," she shook her head, her voice slightly nasal, completely relaxed.

A moment later, Regulus released Narcissa's hand: "It's time to go down, cousin. They're all waiting down there."

Narcissa took a deep breath, turned to face the mirror, adjusted her hair crown one last time, and tucked a strand of golden hair that was hanging by her forehead behind her ear.

She turned back to look at Regulus and nodded, her eyes filled with a smile and a touch of moisture.

Regulus went out first; the Black family was large and prosperous, and it wasn't his place to see Narcissa off at her wedding.

In the corridor, Segnas III and Druella were walking this way.

Segnas III was tall and thin, wearing a black formal gown, with the Black family’s signature gray eyes, a serious face, and lips that were habitually pursed into a line.

His facial features are strikingly similar to those of Walbuga, with the same high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and a cool, stern profile.

Druella, who was not tall and had a plump figure, was holding his arm. Her brown hair was tied in a low bun at the back of her head. She was wearing a dark rose-colored robe and had soft features. Her eyebrows and eyes resembled Narcissa's by about 50 or 60 percent, but were even more delicate.

Regulus stopped and bowed slightly: "Uncle, Aunt."

Segnas III nodded, his voice low: "Regulus."

Druella's lips twitched slightly, but she didn't even manage a smile. Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment before shifting away, and she walked past him toward Narcissa's room.

It was rather impolite, but Regulus didn't blame her, after all, he had beaten her daughter and burned down her son-in-law's house.

If he were Druella, he wouldn't be able to laugh either; the fact that they didn't greet him was already a sign of politeness.

But in the end, they are all real relatives, family, so there's really no need to be so polite.

Regulus walked down the corridor toward the stairs.

The main hall and garden were already packed with guests, and sounds came from all directions: conversations, laughter, clinking glasses, distant bells, and footsteps.

He took a glass of elven wine from a house-elf carrying a silver tray, stood by a pillar on the side of the hall, and scanned the entire room with his gaze.

Beside the fireplace, the old patriarch of the Greengrass family was talking quietly with Orion. The two held wine glasses, relaxed, but neither drank. Orion spoke, and the old patriarch nodded slightly.

The Parkinsons walked in from the arcade, followed by a girl of about fifteen or sixteen years old. She had long, dark brown hair tied in a braid and her eyes darted around in the crowd. When she saw Regulus's gaze sweep over her, she quickly looked away and stared at the tips of her shoes.

The Foley family's house was located near the garden entrance. Old Foley, dressed in an iron-grey robe, with a round face and a round belly, was chatting with a middle-aged witch next to him, his mouth never closing.

Behind her stood a little girl with light blonde hair tied in two braids; Marcia Foley, Lily's best friend.

Regulus looked over, and Marcia happened to be looking up towards the stairs as well. Their eyes met, and she shrank behind her father, only showing half of her head and a braid.

Old Foley sensed his daughter's movement, turned his head in the direction of her gaze, saw Regulus, and immediately put on a fawning smile. He bowed slightly, but before he could greet her, Regulus's gaze had already shifted away.

Old Nott stood by the pillar, holding a glass of wine, ignoring everyone, his lips always drooping, with his two sons standing beside him.

The older one, Theodore Nott, was about the same height as Regulus. He had a stern face and was imitating his father's indifference, but he wasn't quite right. His eyes kept wandering into the crowd.

The younger one, Darius Nott, is truly expressionless, with an expression exactly like the old Nott, his face always gloomy.

Walbuga was surrounded by the ladies, his deep burgundy gown standing out among the group of ladies in lighter colors.

Several ladies around her took turns talking to her, leaning towards her. She listened with a slight tilt of her head, her posture elegant.

In the garden, Crabbe and Gore sat on a bench in the corner. They were both very large, with broad shoulders and thick backs, and the bench sank under their weight.

The two heads were huddled together, talking about something funny, and Old Gore's shoulders rose and fell with the laughter.

Old Crabbe's small eyes glanced towards the hall, his gaze quickly moving between several guests before he looked away and continued to grin憨憨地.

The Selwyn family was strolling in the middle of the garden. Rosalie Selwyn, who was with her parents and wearing a light green dress, saw Regulus appear at the entrance of the hall. Her expression brightened for a moment, her mouth opened slightly, and she was about to take a step forward when she stopped herself.

At the corner of the corridor, Slughorn was chatting happily with a foreign wizard in a dark green robe. His round face was beaming with joy. He held a cup of mead in one hand and a piece of cake in the other, chewing and talking at the same time. He would take a sip after every few words and smack his lips after finishing.

The old man has come too.

Regulus looked away.

New phantoms kept moving in the direction of the lobby, and guests were still arriving one after another.

About twenty minutes before the ceremony began, the conversations at the entrance of the hall suddenly subsided, and the air seemed to grow heavy.

Several wizards standing near the entrance were the first to notice; they paused, their hands holding wine glasses stilled, and lowered their voices. Then, more people followed their gaze and looked towards the entrance.

Bellatrix Lestrange walked in from the porch.

The black gown, deeper black than anyone else's, had a light-absorbing quality, tightly wrapped around the body, with a high neckline and narrow cuffs, without any superfluous decorations.

Her long, slightly wavy hair reached her waist, glossy black, her face was pale and cold, and her dark pupils were unnaturally bright. She exuded an aura that was completely out of place with the wedding atmosphere.

Dangerous, chilling, and dazzlingly beautiful, it was like a black flame as it stepped into the room filled with the fragrance of flowers and golden light.

Rodolphus Lestrange followed half a step behind her.

He wore the same black tuxedo, was burly, had a gloomy face, downturned lips, and his eyes scanned the crowd rapidly.

He maintained just the right distance from Bella—close enough to be mistaken for a couple traveling together, yet far enough not to seem like he was following her around, but somehow he exuded a sense of caution.

Those present noticed her and stopped what they were doing; even their conversations ceased around her.

Six months have passed since the Christmas dinner, and news of Lestrange Manor being burned to the ground has spread throughout the pureblood community.

But Bella's presence here today proves something else: she is still that person's person, she hasn't been abandoned, and may even be valued more.

Regulus stood by the pillar, holding a wine glass, watching Bella walk in.

After France, this was the first time I saw her up close. Before that, it was at the Christmas dinner. Bella in that version was the previous one; she would scream, go crazy, and even laugh while lying on the ground after losing a fight.

This version is indeed quieter now, and the magic texture has also changed.

Bella used to unleash her magic outwards, restless and on the verge of exploding. Now, the restlessness has been suppressed, but not disappeared. It's just covered by a thin layer, like a shell forming on top of lava, with the magma still churning underneath.

But this shell wasn't her own.

Regulus watched for a moment, amusement flashing in his eyes.

She's quiet, but I can't see any wisdom in her. So, is she quiet or wise?

He walked past the pillar.