Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 575 Loyal France

In mid-to-late August in London, the gray sky outside the window was a completely different world from the excessively clear blue of the Norwegian fjords.

Outside the window of number 12 Grimmauld Place, the walls of the row of brick houses across the street were stained gray in varying shades by the rain, and a few pigeons perched on the chimneys, hunching their necks and cooing.

Regulus sat at his desk in his room, on which lay a French alchemy journal, half-open. Beside him was a porcelain cup, half-filled with cold black tea.

Baruch was perched on the corner of the table, his two front paws clutching a piece of Swedish short-nosed saury neck meat, gnawing away.

Small in size, about the size of a palm, its dark red bristles gleamed with a fine metallic sheen in the dim morning light.

It was very focused as it gnawed, all eight of its eyes fixed on the food, its chelicerae clamping tightly as it pushed the food into its mouth, making a crunching sound as it chewed.

After gnawing for a while, it raised its spider head, looked at Regulus, then at the half-eaten piece of dragon meat in front of it, and then took a few steps down the table to his side, gently pinching his cuff with its pincers.

Regulus glanced down at it but ignored it.

Baruch squeezed again, then took a few steps back. All eight eyes stared at him, the top two main eyes showing a very clear expression of grievance.

Regulus reached out his hand, and Baruch immediately buried his head in his palm, rubbed it a couple of times, and then jumped back to the corner of the table to continue gnawing on the dragon meat.

Baruch has been acting very aggrieved ever since he returned.

During his absence, the task of shrinking his size was entrusted to Orion. Orion's approach was probably not very gentle, and it took him quite a while to calm Baruch down.

Once you've coaxed someone once, you'll do it again, and once you do it again, you'll do it countless times. Now I have to coax someone every day—when they're eating, when they're sleeping.

If he glanced at it for even a moment less, it would roll over and kick its eight legs wildly in the air.

He stayed at home for a few days, and Orion didn't ask him anything. He was back, and that was that.

He didn't mention anything about the giants or Dumbledore.

Lucius, on the other hand, kept sending his posts home.

More than half a month after he beat up Old Luo, when he was still lying in bed and wouldn't get out of bed, posts started appearing every few days.

The wording was both friendly and formal, and the content was largely the same: a gathering of young people, quite large in scale, and they hoped Regulus could come.

The invitations were dated more and more recent, and the paper was thicker and thicker, but Orion rejected them all, citing Regulus's need for rest.

The latest one arrived yesterday, and it's being held down by Baruch's food bowl. Regulus didn't open it; he knew what Lucius meant.

Since the war of genocide, he hasn't shown his face in the British pure-blood circle. Before the start of the semester, he went to Malfoy Manor to make an appearance and receive the gifts he was supposed to.

No rush, there are still a few days left. The Norway issue is over, but there's another matter to attend to.

The signals from Betelgeuse's guardian mark have been getting stronger these past few days; Nymphadora, the divine child in Andromeda's belly, is about to be born.

The guardian mark is linked to the fetus's life signals. The closer the child is to birth, the stronger the frequency and intensity of the signal. In the past two days, the rhythm of the signal has obviously accelerated. Based on his inexperienced calculations, it should be around the next few days.

I promised my cousin I would visit her when she gave birth.

In late August in Paris, the afternoon sun was lovely.

On a small street near Mufuta Street, the air seemed to shift slightly as Regulus appeared under the shade of a sycamore tree by the roadside.

They didn't enter the country through official channels; they came directly.

He wore a dark gray suit, with one button undone at the collar of his shirt, and his wrists were visible through the cuffs.

He's almost 1.75 meters tall, and the tailored suit accentuates his youthful uprightness. His shoulders aren't wide, but you can tell they're widening.

Her grey eyes appeared lighter in the sunlight, her black curly hair fell behind her ears, and her face was delicate.

He looked fifteen or sixteen at the age of thirteen, with a slightly mature demeanor, reserved and restrained, his lips slightly pursed, and his gaze calm.

Baruch perched on his right shoulder, his eight small amber eyes darting around, his front legs gripping the seam of his suit jacket, his spider head turning left and right, showing interest in all living things around him.

Regulus cast an Ignore Charm on Baruch, making it invisible to Muggles. He himself didn't hide it; he was there to see his cousin, so there was no need to hide it.

Not far ahead, Rue Moufta is lined with narrow streets from the old town of Paris. Clothes are hanging on balconies, bakery signs protrude from the walls, bicycle tracks are visible on the cobblestones, and a child has drawn a few crooked lines with chalk.

A deliveryman rode past him on his bicycle, his basket filled with baguettes, and his bicycle bell jingled once.

An older woman was collecting bed sheets on the second-floor balcony of the building across the street. She glanced down, her gaze lingering on Regulus for a moment, then lingering again.

The streets were bustling with Muggles—people buying groceries, taking walks, pushing strollers, and smoking pipes in front of shops.

Several young women in floral dresses walked towards us from the opposite side, chatting as they went. Their voices were clear and their laughter carried from the street.

The one at the front saw Regulus, his gaze lingered on his face, and then he walked past.

The person next to her glanced at it too, slowed down, and was then pulled forward by her companion, looking back every few steps, until their view was completely blocked by the flower stand at the entrance of the bakery before they finally turned back.

Regulus ignored them and continued walking.

There are quite a few eyes on this street. When he walks among Muggles, people always take a second look at his face. Young girls look at him, older ladies look at him, and occasionally even old men walking their dogs will stop to take a look.

The Black family's aesthetic sense has never disappointed anyone.

Regulus walked about thirty or forty meters along the street.

Baruch shifted his position on his shoulder, eight thin legs clung to his collar, and a spider head peeked out, its eight eyes following a fly that had flown out of the barbecue restaurant.

Having grown accustomed to eating dragon meat, they consider mere flies unworthy of their attention.

Two people appeared in the crowd ahead, and the moment they appeared, the surrounding air seemed to change.

Regulus had been attracting a lot of attention from passing Muggles, but when the two men stood in front of him, all the gazes disappeared.

Passersby no longer even glanced at them, walking around them and automatically shifting their gaze as they swept across the area.

The young girls and elegant ladies on the street also overlooked this man who could make them slow down.

Lonlo Gaston had short, gray hair that clung to his scalp, a square face, and nasolabial folds that stretched from the sides of his nose to the corners of his mouth. He wore a dark blue wizard's robe over a Muggle's dark gray trench coat.

Deputy Director of International Security Affairs, Enforcement Division, French Ministry of Magic.

Isabelle de Lavigne walked beside him, wearing a light blue formal robe with the collar turned up to reveal a white silk lining. Her chestnut hair was styled in a low French bun at the back of her head, and her lips were painted with mauve lipstick.

Director of the Pureblood Affairs Office, International Magical Cooperation Division, French Ministry of Magic.

They were all acquaintances, and he had had some friendly exchanges with these two people.

Regulus showed no surprise and walked towards them.

The two people stopped about five or six meters in front of him, facing him on the street.

Three wizards faced each other on a narrow street in the old town of Paris, while the Muggle crowds passed by them unnoticed.

Gaston spoke first, his face long and looking displeased, his words coming out in the standard official tone of the Ministry of Magic.

To submit one's resignation.

"Mr. Black, the French Ministry of Magic is concerned about your arrival. Given that you have legitimate family businesses in France and your relatives currently reside in Paris, the French side fully respects your right to visit your relatives."

His expression and his words were completely out of sync; his face showed genuine displeasure, but his words were genuinely polite.

Then, changing the subject but keeping the tone the same, he continued, "At the same time, considering Mr. Black's special status and influence in the international magical community, as well as the recent security incidents involving the Black family's businesses in France, the French Ministry of Magic's Enforcement Division has an obligation to ensure Mr. Black's personal safety during his stay in France, while also ensuring that public order in France is not affected in any way."

Regulus listened quietly, maintaining the composure befitting a young master of the Black family.

This long passage translates to: We know you're here. You're visiting relatives, and we won't stop you. But last time you caused such a commotion on our turf, we have to keep an eye on you. Don't cause any more trouble, and don't let anyone else mess with you.

The incident at the Provence estate was originally a business dispute compounded by local organized crime, but he handled it legally and compliantly, giving both sides a way out.

The matter wasn't of a level that warranted such a fuss from the French, but he later attacked the Rolle family in England.

Observers from various countries' Ministries of Magic were present, and France certainly sent someone as well, perhaps even Gaston himself.

So his current status has changed from being a party involved in an industrial dispute in southern France to becoming an object of attention in the European magical world, to the point that these two people appeared together on the streets of Paris to ambush him.

Regulus nodded slightly; he had no intention of causing trouble in the first place.

Gaston finished speaking, and Isabel took over.

Her tone was much smoother and softer than Gaston's: "The French side has learned that Mrs. Tonks, a relative of Mr. Black, will soon give birth to a baby. As a gesture of goodwill towards the Black family's long-standing partnership in France, the French side has specially arranged for a senior therapist from the Saint-Geneviève Wizard Hospital to provide professional medical assistance for Mrs. Tonks' delivery."

After she finished speaking, she stepped aside to make way for the third person behind her.

Regulus looked over her shoulder.

The woman, in her fifties, had golden hair streaked with silver, which was neatly tied into a low bun at the back of her head.

He wore a light gray healer's robe with a silver brooch on his chest, shaped like a shield, with two crossed wands and an olive branch engraved in the center.

He was carrying a dark brown leather suitcase, the clasp of which was engraved with the insignia of the Healers' Guild.

Her face was round, her skin was in good condition, and her wrinkles were concentrated at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She was looking in Regulus's direction, with a warm smile on her lips.

Isabelle introduced her full name and title: "Madame Colette Beaumont, Chief Healer of the Obstetrics Department at the Saint-Geneviève Wizarding Hospital, with 32 years of experience and having handled over 2,000 births for wizarding families, and a senior member of the French Guild of Healers."

Chief of Obstetrics, 32 years, 2,000 cases—all these together mean the highest level of expertise France can send.

Regulus understood.

The therapist that the French side arranged for Andromeda was not just anyone.

Andromeda has his own money; he gave two keys to Gringotts vaults and hired some decent healers, but they can't compare to the top-tier resources officially promoted by the government.

You may be rich, but there are some services and resources that you can't buy no matter how much money you have. They weren't originally intended for the wealthy; you have to use connections and face to get them.

The French side gave them this face.

Regulus looked at Madame Beaumont, gave a slight bow, and said in French, in a gentle tone: "Madame..."

Beaumont, thank you for coming. My cousin and her unborn child will be very grateful for your care.

Mrs. Beaumont nodded, her smile warm, and replied in French, "Mr. Black is too kind. It would be my honor if Mrs. Tonks and her children were taken care of in the best possible way."

Gaston and Isabel watched from the side.

He is truly elegant, truly reserved, and impeccably polite. It has been less than half a year since we last met, and this young man seems to have grown taller. But he didn't have this attitude last time we met.

Several images flashed through Gaston's mind.

In the wasteland at night, there was the yellowish-brown pillar of light that fell from the sky and shattered the Roel Manor, the massive explosion that created a mushroom cloud dozens of meters high that illuminated the entire wasteland, and finally, the forty-meter-long Fiery Blade that slashed at the entity of dark magic.

Gaston's eyes twitched as he looked at the well-dressed young man in front of him.

Isabelle's lips curled up slightly.

The Black family bloodline is undoubtedly excellent, and the Black family heir in front of us has already proven that.

Andromeda Tonks, expelled from the Black family, married a Muggle-born wizard and lived a secluded life running a café in the Muggle neighborhood of Paris.

But the fact that she has the blood of the Black family will not change because of her removal from the family name or her marriage.

Her unborn child, whether a boy or a girl, will carry the blood of the Black family.

If France provides enough goodwill and support during this child's upbringing, in a decade or so, France will have one more wizard with Blake blood, and perhaps in another decade or so, France will have one more family with Blake blood.

Regulus continued walking towards Mufta Street.

Three Frenchmen followed behind him, whether to protect him, monitor him, or help him, they were just there to keep him company.

The Muggle crowd continued to pass by them, and in the distance, a child was chasing a cat that had run out of the street.

Nobody saw them.