Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

In the summer of 1967, Regulus turned six.

At six years old, living in the Blake family meant having his own study space, and so the top floor attic of 12 Grimmauld Place welcomed a new owner.

Regulus wanted to understand a few things: if wizards could heal their injuries so easily, why were their bodies still so fragile?

If magic can repair the body, can it also strengthen the body?

Why has no one systematically studied this point for thousands of years?

Regulus sat cross-legged on the cushion, closed his eyes, and focused on his own being.

He could feel the magic circulating within his body along a predetermined path.

The book says that magic originates from the soul and is released through the body.

It's that simple. As for how the body itself affects this process, no one has really investigated it.

Just as everyone knows that water flows from a pipe, no one has ever thought that if the pipe were made of a thicker, smoother material, the water flow would be greater and more stable.

This was originally a blind spot for the original author, but when he found himself in it, it became a blind spot for the entire wizarding civilization.

He walked to the skylight, where the autumn sunlight slanted in, cutting bright blocks of light on the floor. He stretched out his hand, letting the sunlight shine into his palm, then closed his eyes and once again sensed the flow of magic.

This time, he tried to guide the magic to flow to his right arm on its own, without any spellcasting process, simply letting the magic go there.

It was difficult at first; the magic seemed to have its own will and resisted being deliberately guided.

But Regulus was patient; patience is the least lacking quality in an adult soul. He imagined magic as water and his own will as the riverbed, digging and guiding it little by little.

Two and a half hours later, he succeeded.

My right arm felt slightly warm, not in terms of temperature, but more like a feeling of being full of energy.

He clenched his fist, and the force seemed... a little bit stronger?

For the next few days, Regulus entered a pure observer mode.

He observes everyone in the family from a sensory perspective.

Volbuga possesses powerful but unstable magic; her magic fluctuates violently when her emotions are stirred.

But Regulus noticed a detail: when she maintained the complex protective spell for a long time, she would unconsciously rub her temples and her face would turn pale.

From this, he concluded that the burden of magical energy consumption was ultimately borne by the physical body.

But she never thought of training her body to increase her endurance.

Orion's magic is deep and powerful, and he has extremely strong control over it.

But Regulus noticed that his father's fingers would tremble slightly when he put down his wand after casting a spell.

That's a fatigue reaction caused by prolonged and intensive use of magic. Magic can eliminate it, but it will reappear.

Sirius Black is the best comparative example.

One afternoon, Sirius tried out a newly learned spell in the garden to make pebbles float and arrange themselves into a constellation pattern. He succeeded, but only barely.

Afterwards, Sirius collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily, his forehead covered in sweat.

"I'm exhausted..." he complained to himself.

Regulus walked over and handed him a glass of water: "Did you use up a lot of magic?"

Sirius took a big gulp, but just nodded silently and hummed in agreement.

Regulus knew this was a consequence of what he'd said at dinner last time; Sirius didn't want to talk to him.

Regulus said nothing more and turned to leave.

Late one night a week later, Regulus knocked on Orion's study door.

"Come in."

Orion was reviewing documents, the candlestick on the corner of the table illuminating his tired face.

The Ministry of Magic has been under a lot of pressure lately, and Regulus deduced from snippets of information that it was related to the activities of that important figure.

The precursors to the Death Eaters have already begun their activities, carrying out several attacks. The Ministry of Magic is keeping this a secret, but the ancient families are already aware of it.

"Father."

"Speak, what is it?" Orion put down his quill and rubbed his temples.

"I've been thinking about a question," Regulus said, sitting down in the chair opposite him. "Where exactly is a wizard's magic stored?"

Orion paused for a moment: "This is a basic question. Magic originates from the soul and is released through the physical body."

"But the body isn't just a medium, is it?" Regulus pressed. "If the body is damaged, will the magic output be affected? If the body is strengthened, will the magic output increase?"

"Theoretically, yes," Orion said. "A healthy body is beneficial for casting magic, but once a basic level of health is reached, further strengthening the body will have a negligible effect on magical power."

Has anyone verified this?

Orion paused for a few seconds: "As far as I know, without systematic research, the traditional view is that magical talent is innate, and that effort can only improve control skills, not increase the total amount."

"But what if the total amount is limited by the body's carrying capacity?" Regulus leaned forward: "Like a water glass, it can only hold one cup of water, but if we make the glass bigger—"

“The soul is that cup,” Orion interrupted him. “Not the body.”

Are you sure?

Orion stared at his son for a long time before saying, "I'm not sure, but it's a generally accepted theory."

"Does something universally accepted necessarily mean it's correct?" Regulus asked softly.

He then continued, "Father, how many 'generally accepted' beliefs in the wizarding world have later been proven wrong? For example, it was once widely believed that Muggles were inferior beings, but now Muggle technology—"

"Enough," Orion warned softly. "Regulus, I know you're smart, always thinking, and your ideas are unconventional, but there are some questions you shouldn't be thinking about right now."

"Then when should we start thinking?" Regulus retorted without backing down: "When Voldemort comes knocking?"

Orion suddenly stood up.

"Who told you that name?" His voice turned serious.

“Nobody told me,” Regulus said calmly. “I heard it from my cousin Bella, Mrs. Malfoy, and you and Mother in hushed tones.”

They called him "That Man," "The Dark Lord," but I found his name: Tom Marvolo Riddle, who called himself Voldemort.

Orion slowly sat back down, his voice sounding somewhat weary: "You shouldn't know this."

“But I already know,” Regulus said. “And I know more. He’s recruiting, he’s gathering strength. The pure-blood families are choosing sides, and the Black family will have to make a choice sooner or later.”

After a long silence, Orion asked, "Are you afraid?"

Regulus replied decisively, "No, but I need power."

Orion closed his eyes and didn't open them for a long time.

"Regarding your question about the relationship between the body and magic," he said, "I can tell you that someone in the Black family history has studied this. My great-grandfather, Arcturus Black, believed that wizards relied too much on magic and neglected their physical bodies."

Regulus held his breath, never expecting that someone in the wizarding world would recognize this problem, especially his ancestor.

"He conducted some experiments." Orion's voice was deep, as if recalling some unpleasant memories.

"The idea is to use magic to strengthen the body, and then use the strengthened body to hold more magic power; the theory is that it's a cycle of enhancement."

Regulus asked somewhat impatiently, "And the result?"

"He lived to be 137, one of the longest-lived members of the Black family, and he was very powerful," Orion said. "But he went mad in his later years, and his notebooks were filled with chaotic symbols and warnings. The last entry was, 'The container is too sturdy, and the contents cannot get out. I have trapped myself.'"

Regulus was completely bewildered. Could it be like that?

He asked directly, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know." Orion shook his head. "The notebook is sealed deep in the forbidden book section. I tried to read it, but I got a splitting headache after reading only three pages. It's not something for ordinary people."

Regulus's heart pounded; this has been studied and has yielded results, albeit at a cost.

"I want to see it." He knew Orion would definitely not agree, but he still made the request.

"No." Orion refused decisively, then paused and added, "At least not now. Arcturus's final condition... is very bad."

Promise me, Regulus, you won't go looking for those notes on your own.

Regulus remained silent; he did not want to agree.

"Promise me." Orion emphasized, repeating the sentence with a hint of pleading.

"...I agree."

Orion sighed, knowing this "agreement" probably wouldn't last long, and waved him away: "Go."

Back in the attic, Regulus sat in the darkness, processing the information he had just received.

Arcturus Black, 137 years old, insane, container too sturdy.

Is it because the physical body, when strengthened to its extreme, conversely imprisons the soul?

But what if the soul and body were completely merged, becoming one?