Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 545 Dumbledore's Message

On a rare sunny afternoon in early August at 12 Grimmauld Place, the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds.

The curtains were half-drawn, and sunlight cut a rectangular strip of light across the desk, with fine dust particles drifting slowly within the beam of light.

Regulus sat at his desk, flipping through a German publication, the Paracelsus School journal, issue 47, 1974.

Spring issue of the year.

After watching the previous episodes, Orion helped him catch up on a few more.

Turn to page 14, where you'll find a paper on the relationship between the deep magical structure of metals and temperature, authored by an alchemist from Heisenberg.

The article is short, but the conclusion is quite interesting. Silver and copper exhibit a memory effect within a specific temperature range. When heated to a certain degree and then cooled, the internal magic patterns will return to their state before heating.

The author describes it as MagischeRückstellung, meaning that no matter how much you mess with it, it returns to its original state after cooling down, just like it's been refreshed.

Regulus thought of the bistable copper plate he had made before, which switched back and forth between two stable states, triggered by the infusion of magic.

If the metal's inherent magical structure has a memory effect, then the bistable state might be the copper sheet itself wanting to return to a certain state, rather than it being forcibly etched in; it's simply given two states to choose from.

He drew a question mark on the margin of the page with a quill pen.

Beside him was a palm-sized copper plate, on which two sets of interlocking alchemical circuits had already been engraved. He had just infused one of the circuits with magic, and the copper plate was transitioning to a pale gold color. A thin silver ring around the edge was slowly lighting up and then dimming, with a very even rhythm.

Baruch lay on the corner of the table, his front legs gripping the edge of the copper sheet.

It stared at the circle of bright and dark silver patterns for a long time, then reached into the groove of the passageway and poked at it.

The silver light in the groove shot upwards suddenly, then retreated.

Baruch's eight eyes widened in surprise, and when he flicked them again, the silver light shot out once more.

It began to flick the pincers repeatedly, checking each time, the clicking of its chelicerae becoming faster and faster.

When it was turned seven or eight times, the whole copper sheet made a humming sound, the silver light in the grooves went out, the light gold on the surface of the copper sheet faded to grayish-white, and it cooled down.

Baruch's claws hung in mid-air, maintaining a flailing posture, motionless, while his eight eyes slowly turned from the copper plate toward Regulus.

Regulus ignored it.

Regulus glanced at it, and Baruch shrank back, quickly hiding his head behind the edge of the table, leaving only his two front paws gripping the edge, his claws digging into the wood grain.

He flicked Baruch's head, and Baruch loosened his front legs, causing the spider to slide under the table, its silk dangling from the table leg.

Regulus flipped the copper plate over to inspect it. The circuit was broken. A key node had been tilted about two millimeters by Baruch's pincers, and the entire magical cycle of the circuit was broken.

He used his wand to touch the broken joints, repairing them little by little.

Baruch climbed back from the table leg, lay down on the corner furthest from the copper plate, curled up into a ball, and tucked his chelicerae neatly at his sides, looking exceptionally well-behaved.

After lying in bed for almost a month, my energy has finally fully recovered, and the feeling of being able to think but not wanting to has finally dissipated.

My whole state of mind is different from before; my brain is working smoothly, and the urge to do things has returned.

For the first two weeks, I really couldn't move. My mind felt empty, like a piece of my spirit was missing. When I tried to think about things, my attention would wander to the side.

Sleeping works, eating works, but not thinking about anything works the most. All he does every day is eat with his eyes open and sleep with his eyes closed. He can't be bothered to watch Baruch swing his spider silk on his head.

Actually, after about two weeks, it had no effect anymore. The position of Betelgeuse was no longer empty, and everything that should have been there had grown back. You could do whatever you wanted.

But I just don't want to move.

He found himself getting used to lying down; he would never move anything that could be done in bed to the table, and he would never open his eyes to think about things that he could think about with his eyes closed.

Kreacher brought him water and food, and Walbuga went upstairs to see him every day. He accepted these services in bed, completely unashamed.

I prefer lying down to sitting, and sitting to standing. Today is the first time in half a month that I've sat down at my desk to read a book, which is a huge improvement.

He had just pulled the tip of his staff back from the copper plate when a beam of silvery light shone in from outside the window.

Regulus looked up and narrowed his eyes.

Baruch sprang up from the corner of the table, its eight legs spread out, its chelicerae clicking as it lunged at the silver light, but Regulus reached out and pressed down on its head, ruthlessly suppressing it.

The silver light pierced through the glass, through the spatial blockade built up over generations at 12 Grimmauld Place, and through the dense defensive runes between the walls and the floor, without a sound or vibration, and without triggering any warning.

The entire house's defense system seemed to be asleep; the runes in the cracks in the walls were not lit, the portraits of ancestors were still dozing off with their eyes closed, and the green flames in the fireplace didn't even flicker.

The old house, still shrouded in concealment magic, was also penetrated by the silver light.

A tiny silver phoenix landed on the desk, no bigger than the palm of a hand. It flapped its wings twice, and the pattern on each feather was very clear. Its tail feathers trailed a wisp of silver mist, which spread out and then gathered again in the sunlight.

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

He stared at the little phoenix for a while, then reached out and nudged its head with his finger. The silver head tilted slightly, and the crest of feathers rippled outwards before gathering back together.

He dialed it again.

The little phoenix tilted its head in displeasure, its silver beak turning to peck at his finger.

It didn't hurt, just a slight ache. I never expected this little thing to have such a temper.

Regulus's finger paused in mid-air, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

Baruch squeezed out from under his hand, his spider head turning left and right as he examined the small, silvery bird before him.

It stretched out its pincers and reached out, but the little phoenix tilted to the side. Baruch reached out again, but was brushed by the little phoenix's tail feathers and withdrew.

The little phoenix opened its beak, and Dumbledore's voice floated out from it, soft and tinged with laughter.

"Geralt, it's been a long time. There's a tribe of giants deep in the Jotunheim Mountains of Norway, and some people have been trying to make contact with them recently. I think we might need your help with this."

Fabian and Gideon will also be there. If you happen to be free, perhaps you'd like to come?

I think this will be a fun trip for you.

A scene flashed into my mind: a small town deep in a fjord on the west coast of Norway, with wooden houses lined up along the water's edge, and the entrance to a fishing village restaurant.

The little phoenix let out a soft cry, and the silver light shrank in the middle, silently exploding into a small ball of light that dissipated into the air.

Baruch made a click at the spot where the silver light disappeared.

It had a bird friend, the Starry Sky Kite, but it hadn't seen it for a long time. This new one was a bit different; it was much smaller, but it was still shimmering silver. It was a little sad that it left.

Baruch slumped back onto the table, his eight eyes fixed on Regulus.

Regulus closed the book, leaned back, and watched as the sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the Muggle buildings across from Grimmauld Place and bathing the brick walls in a warm orange glow.

The Black family's centuries-old protective measures are unparalleled in the entire magical world.

The painstaking efforts of each generation's patriarch are contained in the cracks of the walls: spatial sealing, defensive runes, early warning spells, and a sensory network, layer upon layer.

He charged in himself using the Starry Sky Kite, and the whole house was in an uproar. All the runes lit up, all the portraits came to life, shadows spread, and the old house was fully armed. Orion always knew immediately.

He counted to three in his mind, then stopped at two. There was no sound downstairs, no sound in the corridor, not even the potted plant on the windowsill that Baruch had been taking care of and was barely alive trembled.

With the old man's skill level, he can enter whichever house he wants, just like it's his own.

After lying in bed for exactly a month, the huge hole in my brain was filled, my body was in full shape, and my mind returned to normal. I could think clearly and no longer drifted off to the side.

Then this afternoon, Dumbledore's Patronus arrived.

The old man didn't see how long he lay there, how big the hole was, or when it would be repaired.

He stayed in Place Grimmauld and didn't go anywhere else throughout July, so the old man couldn't possibly know his daily condition.

But the old man just knew.

Perhaps the old man didn't know exactly when he would recover, but he did know how long it would take for the things he used that night to come back.

He had seen it, or he had experienced it himself, and he knew how long it took to recover after a piece of one's spirit had been hollowed out, and he knew when he could stand up again.

Then the old man did some calculations, and after he finished, he sent the message card on the first comfortable afternoon after the system was restored.

Regulus let out a sigh of relief.

The old man never showed his face, but delivered the message precisely on the appointed day, as if he had eyes looking down from a high place, seeing through everything. His level of understanding was high.

Well, high is high, but that's what happens when he's Dumbledore.

As for contacting the giant tribe, that in itself is nothing special. It's not news that Death Eaters are trying to win over giants, and Dumbledore has been keeping an eye on the giant camps in Norse mythology for more than just a day or two.

But to say that Geralt is indispensable for this task is definitely impossible.

The Order of the Phoenix is ​​short-staffed, and the Titans are indeed difficult to deal with, but no matter what, they wouldn't bother to include someone like him who isn't even an outsider.

The old man brought him and the Pwitt brothers together, and he chose this time again.

After fighting a war that wiped out his race, he lay in Grimmauld Place for a month, seeing no one and staring at the ceiling every day.

Perhaps the old man wanted him to go out and explore, feeling that he had stayed in this old house for too long, and wanted to let him stay somewhere else, with people like Fabian and Gideon, to pull him out of that state.

Maybe neither is true; maybe it's just that there's a job that happens to be perfect for Geralt.

He thought about it and figured that was probably it; the old man was quite caring.

He put the copper plates and journals into the drawer, stood up, and scooped Baruch from the corner of the table and stuffed him into his inner bag.

At the end of the corridor, the door to the study was ajar. He knocked twice and pushed the door open to go in.

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