Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 543 Surrender Ceremony

In Wisengam, a meeting is being held in the domed hall. There aren't many people here today; about two-thirds of the seats are occupied, and the rest are empty.

The speaker on the proposed revision of the crucible quality standards is reading from a prepared statement on stage.

"...The bottom thickness must not be less than three-quarters of an inch. The coefficient of thermal expansion in high-temperature environments needs to be recalculated. We recommend revising the current standard from 5.7..."

He held a piece of parchment filled with data in his hand, waving it vigorously, his voice rising and falling, occasionally tapping the podium, accompanied by a serious look, full of a carefully prepared rhythm.

Few people were listening attentively. Some were flipping through documents in front of them, while others were whispering to the people next to them. An old wizard with gray hair rested his chin on his chest, letting it droop little by little.

Another issue, the regulations governing Apparition landing points in Muggle residential areas, came later.

A map was spread out in front of several people, with the area of ​​the Muggle community marked in red, and a long list of data attached next to it, about the self-reports of Muggles that the Ministry of Magic had received in recent years.

The two topics are completely unrelated and are both obscure trivia within the wizarding world, but this has been the daily routine of the Wizengamot organization for hundreds of years.

The speaker continued, "Therefore, we recommend that the new standards be implemented starting from the next fiscal year, giving manufacturers a sufficient transition period."

The elderly scribe sat at a small table to the side, head down, writing something down. The chief wizard's seat was still empty; Dumbledore was not there.

There is a special item on today's agenda, listed after the Crucible Quality Amendment and before the Muggle Residential Area Apparition Landing Point Management Ordinance.

After the speaker finished speaking, the clerk cleared his throat, looked up, and scanned the hall.

"Next on the agenda, the Declaratio Sanguinis closing ceremony, representatives of the contracting parties are already waiting in the side hall."

The hall quieted down. The people who had been flipping through documents stopped, the people who had been whispering fell silent, and the old wizard in the back row, who had almost fallen asleep on the table, not only woke up but also sat up straight.

All eyes were drawn to the side door of the hall.

Orion remained seated, his posture unchanged, expressionless, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

The side door was pushed open from the inside, and a person walked in.

He was in his fifties or older, with sparse, gray hair combed back close to his scalp, and wearing a dark gray robe that had been washed many times, the cuffs worn and frayed.

His face was ashen, his eyes were sunken, his cheekbones were high and thin, and the corners of his mouth drooped down.

The one who was chosen from among the living members of the Rohr family to do this task.

His steps were unsteady, as if his legs had no strength, and he walked with a dragging gait.

Dozens of members of parliament watched him walk down the aisle to the center of the hall, and stop in front of the crossed wands and the letter W carved into the floor.

He turned around, bent his knees, and knelt down.

The domed hall fell silent, and everyone looked at him.

He lowered his head, pulled his wand from his sleeve, trembling all over, and placed it horizontally on the floor with the tip pointing to the left and the handle to the right.

He spoke, in Latin, his voice trembling, broken, a vow of surrender.

"Victus sum. Ego, nomine familiae Rowle...agnoscere victoriam

Black...cedere omnia...

"

'

...dimittereomneminimicitiam...

'

"6

..Sanguinem nostrum deponimus...

I concede defeat, in the name of the Rohr family, and in the name of the Black family. All that once belonged to us belongs to the victors.

No more hatred, no more revenge, we lay down our blood.

As the last syllable fell, the floor of the hall changed, and golden light spread outwards from below his knees, spreading along the cracks in the stone slabs.

Golden patterns gathered before him, wrapping around the wand lying on the ground, slowly flowing from the tip to the handle.

The wand rose from the floor, shattered into pieces in mid-air, and fell back down piece by piece.

On the contract document in front of the clerk, the last page of text spontaneously combusted, golden flames rose from the paper, and the entire page of text slowly disappeared in the flames.

The flames died down, leaving only a few faint embers in the air, which dissipated quickly.

On the dome, two family crests appeared simultaneously, just like the ones that had appeared in the sky above Diagon Alley.

A golden, magical ray of light connects the two emblems, and then the light begins to dim from the middle.

A snap, a vibration from the magical realm, and the contract connection was broken.

The broken rays of light receded back toward their respective clan emblems, and the outlines of the black iron dagger and the gray wolf instantly dimmed, turning from clear to blurry, then to transparent, and finally disappeared from the dome.

The Black family crest was still there, the silver shield emblem shining on the dome, the golden afterglow illuminating the faces of everyone in the hall before fading away.

The dome has been restored to its original state.

The contract has officially ended.

The Roll family member was still kneeling on the ground, wand fragments scattered around him, his gray hair hanging down in front of his eyes, obscuring his expression, and his shoulders trembling violently.

After a while, he put his hands on the ground, raised his knees slightly, changed from a kneeling position to a squatting position, and then slowly stood up.

He bent down, picked up the wand fragments, held them in his hands, moved slowly, and exuded sadness.

He didn't look at anyone and walked towards the side door, his legs seemed to have less strength, and he dragged his feet with every step.

When I reached the side door, I braced my shoulder against the door frame to steady myself, and continued walking until I was outside.

The door closed behind him, leaving only a few dozen councilors in the hall looking at each other, before all eyes turned to Orion.

Orion's gray eyes stared straight ahead, his expression unchanged, his lips flat, his brow bone flat, and he didn't respond to any gaze.

The ceremony ended, the Rolle family was gone, a name was removed from the map of the British wizarding world, and the Black family gained a large piece of the spoils they had taken from their rivals.

The teacup on the table had fallen over, but the water was still flowing, and everyone was watching to see which way it would flow.

The hall was quiet for a moment, then began to warm up again. Someone cleared their throat and started exchanging views quietly with the person next to them.

The clerk put the contract, now without text, back into the cabinet, then glanced around the hall, his gaze settling in one direction.

One person in the circular seating area stood up.

The minister's faction member, a middle-aged man with a round face and ruddy complexion, exuded an air of privilege.

He was holding a thick stack of parchment, with the title on the top page in large print.

He didn't speak immediately, waiting for the light in the hall to shift from Orion to him before clearing his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, before moving on to the next topic, there is a document that I would like to introduce to you in advance."

Several pure-blood faction members of parliament exchanged glances, their brows furrowed slightly, but no one interrupted.

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has recently received some feedback regarding pure-blood families' insufficient understanding of the existing magical legal framework when handling internal affairs."

Out of consideration for maintaining order in wizarding society, and also out of the principle of fairness in treating all families equally, the Executive Division drafted a recommendation document.

He held up the top parchment and showed it to everyone: "Draft of the Pureblood Family Magical Behavior Code of Conduct Filing Agreement".

The content mainly covers several aspects:

First, the use of magic beyond its intended power must be reported to the Ministry of Magic.

Second, disputes involving violence between families should be resolved primarily through legal mediation procedures.

Third, high-risk magical items and inherited magic possessed by the family must be registered.

He started reading from the first page, his official tone accurate and elegant, every word in a tone of advice and standard.

Occasionally, I would glance up at the reactions in the hall, scan them, and then lower my head to continue reading.

It sounds reasonable: maintaining order, ensuring safety, and regulating management.

Some members of parliament listened with blank expressions, some whispered among themselves, and some looked disdainful. Several ministers from different factions nodded seriously in agreement.

The document arrived too quickly; the contract ceremony had barely ended when someone started talking about it.

Everyone knows that this document was prepared in far more than a few minutes. From the wording to the terms to the layout, it is clearly a finished product that has been repeatedly polished.

The Ministry of Magic was prepared for this moment. They were unsure when the contract would end, but they were certain it would.

No one stood up to object, no one interrupted the reading, and no one questioned them on the spot. They simply sat in their seats, whose surnames hadn't changed in centuries, listening to a document taken from the Ministry of Magic's office being read aloud in public.

After the reading was finished, the meeting adjourned, and the documents were placed on the clerk's desk to be officially distributed later.

The proposed amendments to the crucible quality regulations and the Muggle Phantom Landing Point Management Regulations have been shelved again, sandwiched between the two agenda items in that document.

Everyone knew that more such documents, containing suggestions and voluntary participation, would be sent to the various families.

Over the next few days, people from the Ministry of Magic began knocking on the doors of the smaller families, carrying printed documents and wearing the ministry's official robes.

The surnames on the list weren't unfamiliar, but they were definitely not among the twenty-seven clans. Dozens of pure-blood families that had been around in the magic world for a long time but had little influence were stuck between the top and the bottom, neither high nor low.

Some signed, cooperated, and did whatever the Ministry of Magic said.

Anyway, our family doesn't have that level of power, so it doesn't matter whether we register or not. We'll just sign it and at least we'll have a good reputation for being law-abiding.

Some people drag their feet, saying things like, "I need to discuss it with my family," "I'm too busy these days, let's talk about it in a couple of days," or "The document is too long, I haven't finished reading it yet." They use all sorts of excuses to delay, neither signing nor refusing, waiting to see how things develop.

Some refused outright and closed the door.

Everyone in the 27 clans is watching; Malfoy, Parkinson, Nott, Rozier, Selwin, and even Crouch hasn't been signed.

Standing at the highest point, they watched as the Ministry of Magic's people knocked on doors one by one. They knew what this was about, and who these documents were ultimately meant to bind.

They won't sign, but they won't publicly oppose it either. They'll just watch and see how far the Ministry of Magic can push things, which side the smaller families will ultimately side with, and whether the tide will blow away or turn back.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place remains vacant, week after week.

The house is quiet, everything is as usual.