Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 578 Valuable Black

Regulus wasn't just chatting with Alphad; his senses were constantly focused on the bedroom.

The fluctuations of the Guardian Mark have changed in frequency, gradually accelerating from a steady state and getting closer to a critical point.

The baby's magical signals grew brighter, and the transformation of Disguised Magus was even more pronounced than before.

That active magic is becoming clearer and more focused, transforming from chaotic activity into a more structured and predictable form.

That was no longer spontaneous activity; it was more like a nascent will trying to gather its power.

Andromeda's magic, though weary, was steady. Madame Beaumont's healing spells fell on her one after another, precise, swift, and gentle.

Alphad looked at Regulus, his mind briefly wandering.

He saw that the outline of Regulus's profile was clearer than before in the sunlight streaming through the window.

Black curly hair, gray eyes, and the signature sophistication of the Black family.

His thoughts drifted back to the letters he'd received over the years; Sirius had mentioned his younger brother in those letters, mentioning him at length.

repeatedly.

The earliest letters were written starting in first grade. It wasn't convenient in Grimmauld Place because Walburger kept a close eye on them, but at Hogwarts, the owls could fly wherever they wanted.

Sirius's handwriting was just like his personality—carefree and sometimes splattered ink all over the paper.

By the time Sirius reached second grade, his name began to appear frequently in the letters. In the earliest letters, Sirius's tone still carried a hint of awkwardness.

"He went to Slytherin, I don't know what he was thinking."

Later, after some time, he wrote, "He hangs out with those people, and there's nothing I can do about it," and "He's too quiet and doesn't say anything. Sometimes I feel like he's not the person I know at all."

Back then, Sirius's descriptions of Regulus in his letters were always barbed; you could practically smell the tension in his words even through the parchment.

By the second semester of second grade, the tone of the letter began to change.

"He said some things that I didn't quite understand," "It was like when I chose Gryffindor, he had to go to Slytherin, and when I left Grimmauld Place, he had to stay."

"I've thought about it for a long time and still can't figure it out, but I always feel he's right," "He's definitely more complicated than I thought."

many".

By the third grade, the tone had completely changed.

"He's so much better than me, I don't want to admit it, but I really can't compare," "He wants me to become stronger," "His path is so difficult, I want to help him, but I don't know how."

"I'm the older brother, but it seems like he's always been the one playing the role that an older brother should be."

In the latest letter, Sirius wrote: "He said it would be fine if I didn't go back. I don't know if he really thought so, but he looked quite serious when he said that."

Alfred was sitting in a corner of the bar reading that passage, and he read the letter twice.

The Regulus he pieced together in the letter was a quiet, powerful, and silent Blake walking a difficult path.

Sirius Black relinquished his position as heir to the family business, and Regulus took over those responsibilities.

Sirius's rebellion was about running outwards, while Regulus's was about going inwards. Regulus transformed Sirius's rebellious resistance into a willingness to think and even reflect on himself.

The two brothers were going in opposite directions, but Sirius seemed to realize this much later.

A true heir to the Black family.

Now that the real person is sitting in front of me, he doesn't quite match the person in the letter, at least not at this moment.

He can fix Muggle radios, listen to Apollo moon landing stories, know about Pink Floyd, and even describe the structural design of The Dark Side of the Moon.

Before meeting Regulus, even if he had drunk a barrel of euphoria, a barrel of aphrodisiac, and a barrel of buffet, he couldn't have imagined that a pure-blood heir of the Black family would know Muggle music and be able to repair tubes.

When they're silent, they're not really silent at all; they even occasionally crack a joke—cool, unintentional, but undeniably funny.

Music becomes virtual? How? Through illusion spells? Sensory projection spells?

And you can listen to millions of songs from around the world with a single click? And just pick any one?

Bullshit!

As for strength, he did know Regulus was strong, but he couldn't tell just by sitting there, since they had only been talking for a short while.

Sirius was his brother, and they had been together for over a decade. The letters contained a more complete picture of Regulus, but there was much more that wasn't mentioned in the letters.

Sirius Black described Regulus as too profound and heavy, as if he had nothing to do with anything other than power and profundity.

Alfard felt he needed to write back to his nephew, telling him that he had written about his brother in a very boring way.

Regulus's voice rang out: "What else do you do besides bars?"

Alphad snapped out of his daze and grinned: "Let's play."

Regulus raised an eyebrow: "Just playing?"

"Just having fun! Bars, bands, shows, occasionally watching Muggle movies, and recently learning to ride a motorcycle."

A glint flashed in his grey eyes: "You know motorcycles? Two wheels, and with a twist of the throttle, they can go over 160 kilometers per hour. It's more exciting than a broom, really. There are so many cars on the road; one hit could really kill you!"

Regulus stared at him for a moment, his expression somewhat puzzled. What was the reason for this ghostly encounter?

He nodded anyway: "I know."

"Have you ridden this before?"

No, I've seen it.

Alfard shook his head regretfully: "I'll teach you to ride when you're older."

Regulus held the cup, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Sirius will also have a flying motorcycle someday; it seems this hobby is genetically inherited.

But there's no need to ask him to teach; even the fastest motorcycle can't outrun him on foot.

He changed the subject: "I've also looked through those National Geographic magazines you left in the storage room, and those hardcover notebooks. Your handwriting is a bit like Sirius's; they're both very messy."

Alphad was taken aback.

He knew exactly what was written in those notebooks. More than a decade ago, when he was a young man in his twenties, he used notebooks to record everything he saw in the Muggle world: radio frequencies, newspaper news, and some random thoughts.

His lips curled up slightly, his smile softened a little and shortened, before he returned to his casual demeanor and crossed his leg in a different direction.

"You little brat, you've dug up all my treasures, do you know that, Walbuga?"

"She didn't know the room had been opened."

"Beautiful." Alfard gave a thumbs up.

Regulus looked at his uncle, who was smiling so casually, and a thought flashed through his mind.

He was Sirius's favorite elder.

It was only a matter of time before Sirius Black was burned off the tapestry by Walbuca, and according to the established trajectory, it would happen during the summer after fifth grade, in the summer of 1976.

But now the situation has changed. He and Orion have arranged for Sirius to side with Dumbledore and the light.

It's only a matter of time before Walbuga is removed from the team, and perhaps sooner.

After Sirius Black was expelled from the school, it was his uncle, who was standing in front of him in a studded leather jacket, who sponsored him.

The Potters were rich; he remembered that they had more than doubled their fortune by making magical hair care products.

The Potters treated Sirius Black even better than their own son, taking care of all his needs, from food and clothing to shelter and transportation.

Sirius Black was perfectly comfortable eating and staying at other people's houses, but when it came to buying nice things, like a Nimbus 1001 or some high-end stuff, he was too embarrassed to take money out of the Potters' pockets.

Whether the Potters were willing to give it or not was one thing; whether Sirius Black was willing to accept it was another matter entirely.

Alphad was different; he felt perfectly justified in spending the money his uncle gave him.

Regulus remembered the Gringotts vault keys he had prepared in a drawer in his bedroom in Grimmauld Place, originally intended for Sirius.

Even after this guy is removed from the list, he'll still need money to spend outside.

The Potters' money belongs to the Potters, and Black's money belongs to Black. Leave Sirius a few keys so he can carry Black's gold in his pocket and never truly fall on hard times.

But now that we've seen Alpha, Sirius has Alpha, so they won't give out those keys anymore.

Sirius didn't have these things in his destiny.

There may be more in the future, but that will have to wait until the entire Black family is dead, and until number 12 Grimmauld Place, along with everything inside, falls into the hands of the last Black.

Until then, let him slowly spend his uncle's allowance, and let Sirius fall into poverty.

In Regulus's view, Sirius was indeed down on his luck; even if the Potters moved their vault right in front of him, he would still be down on his luck.

The wealth of the Black family is a topic that is not suitable for public discussion in the British wizarding world. As far as the Black family is concerned, there are few wizards in the entire world who are not in dire straits.

Isabel stood at the edge of the living room, maintaining a polite distance, a proper smile on her lips, her gaze lingering on Alphad several times.

From Regulus's conversation with this man, she had already pieced together the whole story.

Blake, yet another one, has been removed from the list.

Alfred Black, a name found in the French Ministry of Magic's archives, lived in England.

Studded leather jackets and chipped T-shirts are considered incomprehensible in the eyes of French sorcerers. For someone from a pure-blooded family to dress like that, they wouldn't even be considered an oddball in Parisian social circles; they would be categorized as someone who is simply unapproachable.

But he has something valuable about him: the pure Black bloodline, which being expelled from the family doesn't change.

Andromeda's child is about to be born, and now another Alphad has arrived.

He's in his forties, unmarried, and has no children. Dressed like this, he hangs out with Muggles and seems to have no interest in settling down and starting a family.

This type of man is unruly, free-spirited, and doesn't care about rules. He seems indifferent to everything and lives a very self-centered life.

If you want him to have a descendant in France, it wouldn't be too difficult.

It can be arranged.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

Alphad sensed the gaze, turned his head, and gave Isabel a natural smile.

Isabel returned a gentle smile.

Those grey eyes are truly beautiful.

"When you get back to England, come over to Camden for a drink sometime," he turned back, speaking casually. "Bring me your theories about cassettes and virtual music; my drummer will laugh himself to death."

Regulus's lips curled up slightly, and he was about to say something when the signal in his perception suddenly changed.

The fluctuations of the Guardian Mark suddenly accelerated, Andromeda's magical signal fluctuated violently, the baby's magical power went from active and surging to boiling, and the transformation frequency of Disguise Magus reached a whole new level.

Lady Beaumont cast healing spells on Andromeda repeatedly, at a rate several times faster than before.

A short, forceful exhale came from the direction of the bedroom from Andromeda.

Everyone in the living room looked in that direction. Alphad straightened up from his chair, while Ted anxiously leaned against the doorway.

The witches looked at each other, and the French witch by the window grabbed the hand of the English witch next to her.

Regulus's gray eyes were fixed on the closed door.

The protective mark continued to pulsate, growing stronger and stronger.

>