Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

The white marble steps leading to Gringotts have eighteen steps, stretching from the street to the bronze doors of Gringotts.

Two goblin guards stood on either side of the gate, each less than four feet tall, wearing Gringotts' crimson uniforms. Their wrinkled, dark faces, indistinguishable by age, and their long, pointed noses, like those of house-elves, were visible. Each guard held a silver spear in its hand.

Regulus walked up the white steps.

The Black family occupies several large, numbered vaults in Gringotts' underground vaults, which serve as proof of their centuries-long cooperative relationship with Gringotts.

Fairies don't like wizards, but they do like gold, and the Black family's vault is overflowing with gold.

The guards on either side of the steps recognized him, their pointed ears twitching slightly as they prepared to salute him in welcome, but Regulus stopped halfway down the steps.

He turned around and faced the street.

The two fairy guards exchanged a glance. The one on the left smirked and turned to walk into the door to report, while the one on the right stayed where he was, watching the crowd gathering below the steps.

Several wizards were coming out of Gringotts. When they reached the door, they saw a procession on the steps. A young man in a formal robe was standing at the entrance, facing the street, and the crowd below was growing.

They moved aside, walked around the pillars of the porch, and stopped at the side to watch.

On the main street of Diagon Alley, crowds were still gathering.

The people who had just arrived were whispering among themselves, asking, "What's going on? The Blake family? Who's that guy in black?"

Some pushed forward, some retreated, and a few adult wizards mixed in with the crowd exchanged glances.

Blake's surname was passed around in the crowd, the sound fading as the buzzing grew louder.

Kaf stood on the third step below, looking up at Regulus, his hand already gripping the camera.

With his keen news sense, he could tell something was going to happen just by looking at a person's demeanor.

The Black family heir, dressed in formal attire, stood before the bronze doors of Gringotts, facing the crowd without going inside. This display was clearly not for taking a nice photo.

His camera had already started working, click click click click.

Rita stood beside him, a shorthand quill in her hand, the tip hovering over the paper. She stared at Regulus's face, her pupils slightly dilated.

She didn't know what would happen next, but she knew that today's scene, no matter what happened next, would be enough for her to fill an entire notebook.

Regulus took his wand from his robes and glanced at the crowd below.

A considerable number of people had already gathered; the semi-circular area below the steps was packed with people, and more were walking towards this area from various directions along the main street.

Further afield, the wizards still scattered in various shops also began to look out the windows; some opened the windows, and some walked out of the shops.

almost.

Magic began to surge within him, and the surrounding air sank and became heavy.

Regulus's hair fluttered slightly, the hem of his robe lifted off the surface of the steps, and he swayed slowly in the windless afternoon. The air at the tip of his wand began to distort.

A family revenge pact cannot be initiated by just anyone.

The ancients were wise enough that they didn't believe in the wisdom of their descendants. When the pure-blooded families established this contract hundreds of years ago, it inherently carried a natural threshold. The amount of magical energy required to mobilize the contract was simply too much for ordinary wizards to handle.

If just two surnames that don't like each other could start a war of annihilation, then the British wizarding world would have been wiped out long ago.

A Muggle-born Mr. Smith and a Muggle-born Mr. Jones got into a fight at the Leaky Cauldron over a chair. Mr. Jones was furious, went home, dug out an old magic book, recited a few words in Latin, and declared war. Merlin would probably crawl out of his grave and tear Wizengamo apart.

The contract was never designed with ordinary people in mind. It is the highest level of war rule between pure-blood families. Being able to activate it is proof of power in itself. No qualification review is required. The threshold of magic power is the qualification.

Regulus's magical reserves were more than enough to sustain the ritual, enough for a moment, but he wasn't in a hurry. He let the process of mobilizing his magical power continue for a short while, allowing the pressure to slowly spread outwards.

The wizards present began to react.

Magic perception is an instinct possessed by all wizards, but the sensitivity of each person's perception varies drastically, sometimes even more so than the gap between wizards and Muggles.

Below the steps, several middle-aged wizards suddenly looked up, their hands unconsciously reaching for their wands at their waists.

In places like Diagon Alley, dozens or even hundreds of wizards pass by every day, and magical fluctuations are as common as background noise.

But for this level of magical mobilization to occur in a public place like Diagon Alley, it means someone is doing something big, or someone is courting death.

Even the less perceptive wizards noticed the stuffiness in the air, their breathing became heavier, and their eardrums throbbed slightly, as if something enormous was gathering power in the sky above them.

Then he saw that everyone around him was looking in the same direction, so he looked over and saw the boy standing on the steps, the famous Little Black, wand in hand, magic spreading out.

More people began to flock towards Gringotts.

On the street, some Muggle parents with their children pushed forward with the crowd, their curiosity overcoming their unease, while others pulled their children's hands and backed away, unsure of what was happening, but able to sense that the wizards around them had changed.

Most of the people on Diagon Alley were gathering in the direction of Gringotts.

Regulus raised his wand and pointed it to the sky.

A golden beam of light shot out from the tip of the staff, soaring straight into the sky and piercing through the blue sky of a July afternoon.

A beam of light spread across the sky above Diagon Alley, the golden rays radiating outwards from a single point, creating a massive golden curtain of light in the sky.

The light curtain grew larger and larger, passing over the roof of Gringotts, over the chimney of Flourish and Blotts, and over the sign of Madam Malkin's Robes Shop. The entire sky above Diagon Alley was glowing, and wizards within miles who looked up at the sky could see it.

Regulus's voice rang out, ancient, formal, and ceremonial Latin.

His voice was only ordinary, but the contract magic took over the transmission the moment he opened his mouth, and every wizard present could clearly hear every word he said, whether they were standing at the bottom of the steps or at the end of the street.

The essence of a contract is a declaration, and magic itself ensures that the declaration reaches the ears of everyone present.

Moreover, even if they hear Latin, under the effect of the contract magic, every wizard can understand what he is saying; the meaning is directly implanted into their minds without the need for translation.

"Ego, regulus atalos black——"

On the golden screen of the sky, ancient Latin text began to emerge line by line, the gilded letters imprinted into the air stroke by stroke, the lines burning hot, carrying the afterglow of gold.

"I, Regulus Atallos Black, heir to the Black family, in the name and authority of the Black family, declare to the wizarding world—"

The noise from Diagon Alley fell silent in an instant, and everyone craned their necks, staring blankly at the only boy who had spoken in the room.

Regulus's voice continued.

"Dolphin Rolle, heir to the Rolle family, twice committed acts of deliberate and covert offenses against the Black family bloodline and dignity while studying at Hogwarts."

The Latin letters in the sky were burned out line by line, golden and dazzlingly clear against the blue sky background.

"The Black family, using this offense as a justification, formally launched a declaration against the Rolle family."

The two Latin words, burned onto the light screen in the sky, were a size larger than the previous ones, with golden light overflowing from the strokes of the letters and trembling violently in the air.

Someone in the crowd below the steps gasped.

An elderly witch, dressed in a dark green old robe, was carrying newly purchased potion ingredients, her mouth agape, seemingly unable to close.

A pure-blooded boy tugged at his father's sleeve and whispered, "What is declaratio sanguinis?" His father lowered his head and took his hand.

The Black family crest appeared in the center of the light screen, a silver shield-shaped emblem with two stars side by side and Sirius below, suspended dozens of meters above Regulus's head, slowly rotating.

"From this moment forward, all relations between Black and Roll are severed. The public notice period is three days. After the three days, either party may launch an attack on the other at any time and place. No third party may intervene. Violators will be subject to the contract magic backlash, and the loser will inherit everything from the winner."

With each word spoken, another line of Latin appeared in the sky, the golden letters arranged neatly, growing more and more numerous and denser, the light screen growing larger and larger until the entire sky above Diagon Alley was covered in golden text.

Regulus's gray eyes returned from the sky, sweeping across the crowd below, his voice steady.

"This declaration is made in my own name and is acknowledged and abided by by the Black family."

The last sentence.

"domus rowle non potest recusare."

The Roll family had no right to refuse.

The Roll family crest appeared out of thin air next to the Black family crest, a vertically pointing black iron dagger piercing a coiled snake, with a gaunt gray wolf standing on either side of the dagger.

A golden, magical ray of light stretched between the two crests, vibrating and emitting a deep hum that echoed through every corner of the utterly quiet Diagon Alley.

The ceremony was held, and the contract was completed.

The next moment, the entire light screen began to close, and the Latin letters peeled off from the screen one by one, rotating and closing together. All the characters condensed together, becoming brighter and denser, and finally turned into two golden beams of light.

One flew north to Yorkshire, to the Rolle family; the other flew east to the Ministry of Magic, to Wizengamor.

Two beams of light streaked across the sky at incredible speed, leaving only a thin golden line in the field of vision before disappearing, and the sky returned to its original state.

The blue sky, white clouds, and sunshine of July; Diagon Alley is still Diagon Alley.

There was a lingering smell in the air—dry, scorching, as if something had been burned.

The whole street was extremely quiet. Hundreds of wizards stood below the Gringotts steps and on the street in Diagon Alley. No one spoke, no one moved, and even owls were flying around.

Kaf stood at the bottom of the steps, his camera shutter clicking non-stop from beginning to end.

His body was trembling, from head to toe; his shoulders were shaking, the collar of his floral vest was shaking, and his legs were shaking.

But his hands and head were very steady. His body swayed violently, but his neck and above remained as steady as a proper rooster. He held the camera firmly, with the lens always pointing in Regulus's direction, clicking away.

He is witnessing history; he knows it.

Rita's eyes were still fixed on the sky, and she was writing frantically in her notebook with a quill pen.

Rita Skeeter, an intern reporter, had only written about Diagon Alley store discounts and the Ministry of Magic's new Flying Road network regulations until today. From today onwards, she probably won't be interested in any more small news items.

In the distance, at the street corner, Samuel and Lena stood in front of Vance's secondhand prop store, their faces showing complete bewilderment, which slowly turned into shock.

The Regulus they knew, the one who was bowed down and shook hands with the upperclassmen in the Slytherin common room, the one who beat Hermes to a pulp in the Room of Requirement, the one they had just traveled back to London with on the train last week, had just initiated an ancient contract against the entire wizarding world that they had never even heard of.

At the edge of the crowd, Lockhart stood on tiptoe, his mouth agape.

His eyes widened when he saw the golden beam of light shooting into the sky, and his mouth went from gaping open to completely closing when he saw the Latin text burning out line by line.

The golden light reflected in his eyes, illuminating his entire face.

All eyes are on us.

That person stood on high, everyone was watching him, the sky was writing words for him, and the world was quiet for him.

He likes this, he loves this, he wants this.

Several old monsters, dressed in the uniforms of Gringotts stewards, appeared at the bronze gates of Gringotts.

One of the fairies, whose wrinkled, dark face clearly showed how old they were, tilted his head and glanced at the remaining golden streaks in the sky. He curled his lip and a cold disdain flashed in his eyes.

The wizards are going to kill each other again.

What does it have to do with them?

The old demon turned and walked into the door, followed by the other demons. The guards on both sides of the steps returned to their posts, expressionless, as if nothing had happened.

In the crowd, those who knew what had happened and those who didn't were clearly distinguished.

The adult wizards of the pure-blood families had ashen faces; some had their mouths slightly open, while others had already begun whispering to those around them.

The child from the pure-blood family turned to look at his parents and got the answer from their expressions.

The half-blood and Muggle-born wizard, under the influence of contract magic, understood the entire contents of the announcement and knew what had happened.

One family has declared war on another, and an ancient pact has been activated, but they don't fully understand what this means or what level of upheaval it represents in the pure-blood world.

The Muggle parents standing on the outermost edge didn't understand anything; they only saw golden light and words appearing in the sky. It was spectacular, like wizards were about to fight, and it had a very ceremonial feel to it.

The sky returned to normal, and Diagon Alley was still Diagon Alley.

Regulus put away his wand, turned and walked down the steps, the crowd automatically parting to make way for him.

No one stopped them, and no one spoke. The hem of the dark robe brushed against the white marble steps, and the only sound was the thud of boots on the stone steps.

All eyes were on him.

Kraft's camera was still clicking, the shutter sound particularly clear in the quiet air, and Rita's stenographer was still writing frantically, the tip scraping against the paper with rapid, dense strokes.

Regulus walked through the crowd, his dark silhouette disappearing along the main street of Diagon Alley. His silver-gray markings gleamed in the sunlight, and he turned the corner and vanished.