Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

On July 1, 1974, in the afternoon, during the second week of summer vacation, Diagon Alley was packed with people.

Floo Powder's green flames billowed from the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace, bringing wave after wave of wizarding families into the entrance to Diagon Alley.

The young wizards, who had just started their holiday, were led by their parents and looked around on the cobblestone streets.

There was a queue outside Flourish and Blotts bookstore as employees carried stacks of new semester textbooks and bestselling fantasy novels out of boxes, the boxes piled higher than a person.

The Quidditch boutique window was crowded with young wizards, and the newly arrived Comet 270 was placed in the most conspicuous position, the mahogany grain on the broom handle glistening in the sunlight.

A twelve or thirteen-year-old boy pressed his nose against the glass, muttering, "Sweeping across the seven stars is nothing," while a companion next to him nodded in agreement, shouting, "Comet 260 is nothing either."

Long queues formed at Madam Malkin's Robe Shop, marking the peak season for new students to have their clothes taken before starting school.

Two nervous Muggle couple stood in front of Ollivanders Wand Shop. The man was wearing a suit, and the woman was carrying a handbag. They were craning their necks to look into the shop, clearly seeing this street for the first time.

Occasionally, owls would flap their wings and fly across the street from the direction of the Owl Post Office, casting a small, fast-moving shadow.

Gringotts’ white marble building stands at the end of Diagon Alley. Sunlight shines on the leaning white building, and the marble on the exterior wall is dazzlingly white under the July sun.

Regulus sat at an outdoor table in Florin's Ice Cream Shop, a cup of chocolate walnut ice cream in front of him, half-eaten.

This shop is located in the middle of Diagon Alley. A few round tables are set up under a sunshade. Next to it is the Magical Joke Shop, which has a window display of a dwarf cat that can do somersaults on its own and a prank box that keeps spraying colored smoke at passersby.

The ice cream shop's sign features a giant chocolate cone with a small umbrella stuck in the cream scoop, and the umbrella rotates on its own.

He wore a dark black formal gown, similar in style to the one worn at the wedding, with subtle silver-gray patterns flowing through the folds of the fabric, and the Black family crest embroidered on the inside of his chest.

Wearing this in Diagon Alley in July, surrounded by wizards in casual clothes and robes, the quality of his formal attire stands out.

Sitting across from me was Barnabas Kraft, the senior editor of the Daily Prophet, whom I had met just a few days earlier at Malfoy's wedding.

Today I wore a bright blue vest, a bright green and gold polka dot outfit, and an orange-red tie. I replaced the tie clip with a miniature quill pen model that automatically writes, with the pen tip constantly drawing small circles on the tie.

Her outfit was even more eye-catching than the most flamboyant GG brand in the Diagon Alley window, and sitting at the same small round table as Regulus in his dark suit, the visual contrast was enough to make passersby take a second look.

Next to Kaf sat a young witch in her early twenties with light blonde hair, permed into slightly unruly curls, a thin face, thin lips, a pointed chin, and cat-eye-framed glasses.

The eyes behind the lenses were very agile, constantly turning, looking at Regulus, then at Kaf, then at the crowds on the street, and then back at Regulus.

A shorthand quill pen and a notebook are placed beside me, the nib already dipped in ink, hovering over the paper, ready to fall at any moment.

Her robe was dark red and fairly decent in style, but the fabric was ordinary and the cuffs were frayed.

Rita Skeeter, an intern at the Daily Prophet, was brought along by Kraft to run errands.

Regulus glanced at her.

Twenty years later, the most troublesome reporter in the entire British wizarding world stirred up public opinion in half of the wizarding world with a shorthand quill and a mouth that had no bottom line.

The Rita of today doesn't have the outfit she later wore; her glasses are a more conventional style, and her nails aren't painted the scarlet red they later became.

There was already a raw, untamed thirst in his eyes, a yearning for information, for stories, for big events, which was nakedly displayed in his eyes.

He's still an intern, and the greed in his eyes is already taking shape, but he hasn't yet developed a seasoned ruthlessness; he's still too green.

However, this guy is indeed talented; in a few years, he'll become that beetle.

Regulus looked away, scooped up a spoonful of ice cream and put it in his mouth, then chewed on some walnut pieces.

Kaf was getting restless on the other side.

A few days ago, he received a letter, a private invitation from the heir of the Black family. The letter was brief, with only one line on the paper.

On the afternoon of July 1st, there was a newsworthy event at Florin Ice Cream Shop.

He was still upset that the article about the last Christmas dinner had been suppressed by his superiors. Little Blake personally invited him out, and the information behind this made his nose itch with news for three days and he couldn't sleep well.

So he came, bringing Rita, the intern, with him.

He's been sitting here for almost half an hour now, and the Blake kid has been eating ice cream the whole time.

Why hasn't the ice cream melted into water after half an hour in such hot weather?

Damn magic.

"Tell me," Kraft leaned forward, his voice quick and urgent, "What news is it? You didn't write anything in this letter, just a time and place. What's the difference between this and sending me a riddle card?"

"Mr. Kraft, your new vest is nice." Regulus took another bite of ice cream, chewing it slowly in his mouth, not in a hurry at all.

Kaf looked down at his bright blue vest, then at Regulus's obviously oversized formal gown, and suspected that the guy might be showing off.

He took a deep breath and forced a smile: "Thank you, where's the news?"

"Is the fabric Italian?"

"No—no! Don't change the subject," Kraft slammed his hand on the table. "I've been thinking about this ever since I received your letter. The heir to the Black family suddenly wrote to me without saying a word. Do you know how I've been these past few days?"

Regulus raised an eyebrow with interest: "How did you manage?"

"I can't sleep!" Kraft's voice suddenly rose. A little girl licking ice cream at the next table turned her head and gave him a look as if he were a weirdo, then turned away again.

Rita stood to the side with a stenographer, her gaze shifting between Kaf and Regulus before finally settling on Regulus's face.

From the moment she sat down until now, she had been observing that this heir of the Black family was different from all the young wizards of the same age she had ever met, and also different from the interviewees she and Kraft had run around interviewing.

Those who were interviewed were either in a hurry to empty their bags or too nervous to speak, but the one in front of them, who had clearly initiated the interview, was the one jumping around in a panic.

Kaf leaned back, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and his flashy vest dazzled the eyes under the awning.

He stared at Regulus for a moment, then suddenly changed his tone, a smirk playing on his lips: "Mr. Black, do you know how many manuscripts I've had suppressed?"

Regulus raised his eyes.

"Regarding the Christmas dinner incident last time, I wrote the article, added photos, and submitted it, but it was suppressed by the higher-ups. The reason given was that it was not conducive to the unity of the wizarding world," Kraft said, his tone filled with long-suppressed dissatisfaction. "I've been doing journalism for over a decade, and I know which stories to report and which not to report, but some things shouldn't be suppressed."

"So I came. You wrote the letter, and I kept the appointment," he looked at Regulus, his anxiety somewhat subsided. "Now can you tell me?"

Regulus finished the last bite of his ice cream, wiped his mouth with a tissue, and glanced at Kraft.

Call him here because the Daily Prophet is the most widely read print media in the British magical community.

And around Diagon Alley, because in the first few days of summer vacation, Diagon Alley has the highest density of wizards in all of Britain.

If you're going to do something, do it big and bold. What Betelgeuse wants is not just for the result to come, but for everyone to see how the result came about.

The contract was merely a formality in destroying the Rohr family; the real power behind it was his and the Black family's strength.

But how many people see this, how many people remember it, and how many people bring it up repeatedly afterward—these are the things that nourish the soul.

Experience, choices, external influences—the cycle Nicolas Flamel described: the clearer you see, the more firmly you anchor; the more firmly you anchor, the more you gain; the more you gain, the clearer you see.

The experience of wiping out one of the Twenty-Eight Holy Clans and making the entire British wizarding world remember what the Black family did on the same day is enough to sustain his soul for a long time.

So he needed Kraft, so he chose Diagon Alley.

Regulus glanced at the crowd on the street. Diagon Alley was packed with people in early July. The cobblestone streets were crowded with people shoulder to shoulder, robes of various colors swayed in the sunlight, and noisy conversations and laughter came from all directions.

almost.

He stood up, straightened his cuffs, and adjusted his collar.

"Let's go, Mr. Kraft," the gray-eyed man said casually, glancing at Kraft with a slight smile. "The news is outside."

Kaflint froze for a moment, then jumped up from his chair: "What? Where?"

Regulus had already started walking towards Gringotts.

Kaf quickly followed, his floral vest flashing in the crowd. Rita grabbed her notebook and quill and jogged after him.

The three people walked across the main street of Diagon Alley.

Diagon Alley isn't long; it takes about fifteen minutes to walk from the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron to the white steps of Gringotts, or half an hour to walk at a slower pace.

Regulus walked at a moderate pace, passing the secondhand robe shop that the Weasleys frequented, past the hissing cauldron shop, and around a young wizard in the middle of the street holding a large stack of flyers, promoting a review potion that guaranteed passing the Owl.

At the street corner, several boxes of secondhand goods were displayed in front of a small shop, and the sign for Vance Secondhand Magic Items was somewhat faded.

Samuel Vance stood at the store entrance, wearing a faded yellow t-shirt, holding a rusty magic compass in his hand, which he was wiping with his sleeve.

Standing next to him was Lina Costa, who had come to him during the summer vacation to practice magic together. Her black hair was tied in a ponytail, and she was holding a small bottle of iced pumpkin juice that she had just bought from a street vendor, with the straw not yet inserted.

Samuel saw Regulus first, stopped what he was doing, and looked at the figure in a dark black robe on the main street.

"That's—" He reached out and poked Lina, tilting his chin towards the main street.

Lina followed his gaze and saw it too. Her eyes lit up, and she opened her mouth to shout.

Then she saw Regulus with a middle-aged man dressed in flamboyant clothes, and a young witch holding a notebook on the other side.

Regulus's walking posture was not much different from that at school. His steps were unhurried, his upper body swayed slightly, and his center of gravity was always firmly on a line, as if his head and heels were connected by an invisible axis.

But the aura he exuded was different from that at school. It was hard to put into words, but it made people feel that he was doing something that shouldn't be disturbed.

Lina and Samuel exchanged a glance, neither of them speaking nor moving forward. They simply stood by the shop window, watching the three people walk towards Gringotts.

The flow of people on the main street began to show some subtle changes.

Kraft is the senior editor of the Daily Prophet. He is not unknown in the wizarding world, and at least in news and social circles, his colorful clothes are a walking advertisement.

Several passing wizards recognized him, and then their gazes shifted from him to the boy beside him.

A deep black formal gown with subtle silver-gray patterns, and faint traces of the family crest on the inside of the chest.

Any discerning pure-blood wizard could tell from the style and fabric of this robe that the person wearing it wasn't out shopping; even members of the Malfoy family wouldn't wear this to go shopping.

The Black family heir, dressed in a suit and accompanied by the editor of the Daily Prophet, walked down the main street of Diagon Alley. The sight of these three together suggested something was amiss.

The first to follow were two or three middle-aged wizards. They didn't get close, but kept a distance of about ten meters, slowly following in the same direction.

Several passersby who didn't understand what was going on followed the group that was walking in the same direction.

Then came more people: some peeked out of Flourish and Blotts, some turned around in front of the window of Madam Malkin's Robes, and some stopped in front of the Leaky Cauldron.

Diagon Alley is not wide, so a small group of people walking in the same direction can create a large flow of people.

The crowd began to subtly converge towards Gringotts.

A ten-and-a-half-year-old blond boy stood in front of the dressing mirror in Madame Malkin's Robes shop, wearing a newly made light blue robe, posing in front of the mirror.

He tilted his chin up slightly, his mouth expertly forming a fixed grin that revealed a set of perfectly white teeth, and muttered to himself in the mirror, "Perfect."

Then, through the shop window, he saw the crowd on the street outside suddenly begin to surge in one direction. His eyes lit up, and he lifted the hem of his robe and rushed out.

A woman's voice called out from behind, "Gidero! Where are you going! Slow down!"

Lockhart had already squeezed into the crowd, standing on tiptoe, and could only see the back of the adult wizards in front of him, but he saw the back of the person in the dark black robe at the very front, and the light in his eyes grew brighter and brighter.

Who is this person? Why is everyone following him?