Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 567 Giving the Child a Whole Bird

"Starry Night Kite," Newt's gaze fixed directly on Dumbledore's face, "Are you sure?"

Dumbledore nodded: "I'm sure, I saw it with my own eyes."

Newt's lips twitched slightly, and his brows furrowed from the sides towards the center.

He traveled all over the world, across six continents and dozens of countries, from the Arctic Circle to south of the equator, deep in the mountains, on islands, in deserts, and under glaciers.

He had seen more species than most wizards could imagine, but the Starry Sky Kite, even rarer than the Phoenix, existed only in the oldest documents. He had never seen it, not even a single feather that he could confirm.

A child's guardian spirit is the starry kite, and the guardian spirit is a reflection of the soul, which is closer to its true nature than any other record of it.

Newt sat there for a while, his gaze shifting from Dumbledore's face to the artificial sky above the treetops, his mind rummaging through the knowledge he had accumulated over the decades.

Every record of the Starry Sky Kite in the literature, the descriptions in the legends, and his own research on legendary creatures.

Then he turned back to look at Dumbledore, his eyes reflecting a very clean light.

Dumbledore looked into his eyes and smiled.

Newt looked away and asked softly, "You want to find a real one?"

Dumbledore replied gently, "I'd like to know how to bring a real one to his side."

Newt was silent for a moment, then moved his fingers from his knees to the moss beside him, plucked a small amount, and rubbed it between his fingers.

When he spoke, his gaze wasn't entirely on Dumbledore; he would occasionally glance over, and sometimes look elsewhere, at a bird perched in the treetops, or at waterfowl floating on the distant lake.

"You know I've spent my whole life studying animals. The higher the level of a creature, the more different our relationship with it becomes."

"For low-level creatures like the horned beast, bird-snake, poison-horned beast, or even the fire dragon, you know where it is. Just go there, and you'll find it."

He glanced at Dumbledore: "Above that, you can find the Venomous Leopard, the Invisible Beast, and the Thunderbird, but it will be a bit more difficult. If it doesn't want you to find it, it will hide."

Dumbledore's gaze was fixed on the lake in the distance, and he listened quietly.

Newt continued, "When I was young, I spent many years looking for unicorns, crouching in the forest for days and nights without making a sound, waiting for them to come out from behind the bushes."

Later I discovered that the more you try to find it, the less likely it is to appear. But when you stop, when you sit there, eat, drink, and sleep, it actually emerges from behind you.

"What I'm trying to say is," he paused, "it may come, or it may not, it depends on it."

“The phoenix,” Newt’s gaze returned to Dumbledore’s face. “The phoenix is ​​a given. There’s nothing you can do about it. Whether it comes or not depends on itself, or rather, on some kind of ‘something I can’t explain.’” He rubbed the moss crumbs between his fingers, glanced at Dumbledore, and looked away. “You know more about you and Fawkes than I do.”

"I can't really explain it," Dumbledore said honestly. "I wasn't waiting for it when it came. I didn't even know I needed it, and then it came."

Newt nodded. "Yes, that's it. You can't explain it, and I can't explain it either, but I've followed these creatures my whole life, and I have a feeling." Dumbledore asked, "What feeling?"

"The more you want something, the less you should look for it," Newt said, his gaze somewhat vacant. "Once you reach the level of the Phoenix and the Starry Sky Kite, there's nothing you can do. You can't find it, you can't attract it, and all the deliberate things you do are useless."

The only useful thing is to be yourself, to the best of your ability. You have to live a certain way, a way that makes it feel you deserve to be in its presence. Then one day it will know you, and it will come.

Dumbledore's blue eyes flickered slightly behind his half-moon lenses.

“A guardian spirit is a reflection of the soul,” Newt turned back. “This child’s soul possesses the same qualities as Stark: freedom, breakthrough, and the ability to penetrate all obstacles. The qualities are already there.”

His gaze drifted away again: "But having special qualities isn't enough. Having special qualities doesn't guarantee that you'll be able to wait for that bird."

"What else do we need?"

Newt frowned slightly, and his voice slowed down: "Experience, the experience of living out one's traits."

Freedom is written in your soul, but have you ever truly been free? Breakthrough is written in your soul, but have you ever truly broken through anything?

Your soul is inscribed with the ability to overcome obstacles. Have you ever truly faced a wall that you couldn't pass through, and then managed to get through it?

Traits are internal, they define who you are; experiences are external, they define what you have done.

He spoke with increasing confidence: "When these two things align, when what's in one's soul becomes something truly experienced and overcome, a change occurs in that person."

Dumbledore turned his head, his blue eyes looking at Newt: "What change?"

Newt thought for a moment: "I can't say for sure, but I've seen it before, I've seen it on you."

He raised his eyes and looked at Dumbledore with that very clean gaze again, and Dumbledore smiled slightly.

Newt continued, "This person's magic has become more complete, more aligned, as if something that had been missing has returned to its rightful place. Those legendary creatures will sense it, and then the response will come."

He rubbed his fingers together on his knee, his voice suddenly becoming somewhat shy: "I'm not sure, too small a sample size, Phoenix and you..."

"That's one example. I've also had close encounters with some creatures myself, like griffins, sphinxes, and unicorns."

Then he added, "I'm talking about the direction, not a conclusion."

Dumbledore looked at him with gentle eyes and said in a relaxed tone, "Newt, let me tell you about this boy."

Newt tilted his head slightly.

"He comes from a pure-blood family, a very old and powerful one. Recently, Dumbledore shook his head: 'Do you know what Britain is like now? The dark forces are expanding, Tom is trying to win over pure-blood families, and almost all the old families are taking sides, including this child's family.'"

Newt's gaze narrowed slightly. A child of a pure-blood family, Dumbledore said, ancient and powerful, there are only a handful in all of Britain.

And Tom, Tom Riddle, Voldemort.

"Tom is watching him, and so am I. The boy is caught up in it all," Dumbledore continued. "Choices, sides, conflicts—these things will be laid out before him one by one: the expectations of his family, the demands of his faction, the pressures of war."

Newt listened quietly.

Dumbledore's tone was full of confidence: "But I'm not worried about that. He can get through things on the ground by himself."

He turned to look at Newt, his blue eyes brightening: "This kid, his mind, his will, his abilities, neither faction, war, nor choices can hold him back. He can even lead those around him across them."

Newt looked at Dumbledore's expression as he said these words. They had known each other for decades, and he rarely saw him use such a tone to evaluate someone.

"But further on," Dumbledore's voice slowed, his gaze falling on the artificial sky above the treetops, "towards the distant future, I've walked my whole life, and Grindelwald has reached the limit of his path, I know."

Tom is also walking in that direction, and I roughly know where he'll end up; I've been to a certain spot myself before.

When Newt heard the name Grindelwald, he looked up at Dumbledore with a somewhat innocent expression.

Dumbledore smiled and said, "There's a wall over there. Magic can only go so far. Go ahead, it's out of reach."

Newt didn't speak. He knew what Dumbledore was talking about, perhaps not entirely, but he could sense it.

The wall wasn't in his magic, but he had his own understanding of boundaries and ends.

"I believe this child will reach that wall," Dumbledore said warmly. "He has the quality and talent to go the furthest in his generation, and may even surpass those who came before him, including myself."

The horned camel cub at his feet was already asleep on his boot, its breathing rising and falling slightly.

“The things on the ground can’t hold him back, but that wall will,” he said, looking at Newt. “At that point, if he had a Stark toy with him, things might be different.”

Newt understood.

On a spiritual level, when this child reaches the limit of magic and faces an impenetrable wall, there is an existence by his side whose essence is to penetrate and break through, pushing him forward.

That won't give him more or greater power, but it will give him a direction to get through.

Newt asked softly, "A child?"

Dumbledore's silver beard twitched. "A child."

Newt blinked. "How old is the child?"

A sly glint flashed in Dumbledore's blue eyes: "I can't tell you that. You'll know who he is once I tell you his age."

O

Newt looked at him, but didn't press for details. After a moment, he said, "Shall we bring him to meet us?"

"I'll talk to him," Dumbledore chuckled. "I don't think he'll refuse."

Newt's eyes lit up, then he lowered his head shyly, a hint of Hufflepuff's characteristic shrewdness flashing in his eyes as he looked away.

Dumbledore didn't tell him his age because if he did, he would know who he was.

The pure-blooded families in Britain are very old and powerful, and their age should be very young, so young that just mentioning their specific age is enough to narrow down the range of them.

That's easy to guess, very easy to guess.

The two sat under the tree for a while, and the surroundings were quiet for a moment. The simulated daylight moved slowly overhead, casting new shadows on the distant sand dunes.

At the edge of the meadow, a Moonfox cub was digging a hole, while on the other side, a Niffler was busy stuffing something into the hole.

"About the Stark Kite," Newt's voice rang out again, "I have some legends and records I've collected from various cultures, which I can show you."

Dumbledore nodded.

"I'll do some things in this direction," Newt said, his eyes clear and his tone serious. "I can't promise anything. With animals of this level, all the deliberate things you do might be useless."

But if there's anything I can do, at least in terms of understanding and preparation, I will.

Dumbledore's blue eyes looked at him gently behind his half-moon lenses: "Thank you, Newt."

Newt waved his hand. "How many times have you helped me?"

Dumbledore rested his hands on his knees, gazing at the warm little world inside the box, where various creatures lived quietly in their respective areas.

"The world you created is wonderful."

Newt smiled sheepishly.