Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

After dinner, Regulus returned to his room and stood by the window looking out at the London streets covered with a thin layer of snow, where car tires left deep and shallow tracks in the muddy pavement.

In the distance, the lights of the Muggles blurred into indistinct clusters behind the snow curtain, forming a faint dividing line with the unseen magical barriers surrounding Grimmauld Place.

He recalled the expression on Walbuga's face when she spoke at the dinner table earlier; maternal love was not absent, but it always came after glory.

My mother's eyes always shone with a special light, something burning and stubborn.

She praised his performance at the Malfoy family dinner, saying that he had brought honor to the Black family and that all the families now knew that the Black family had a promising heir.

Regulus traced a smiley face with his fingers on the cold glass.

He actually understood Walbuga, or rather, he understood people like her.

What she wanted was never for her son to live a happy and comfortable life; what she wanted was for her son to become the most prestigious badge of honor in her social circle.

Family honor was her living faith, and her children were the offerings she made to this faith. The more dazzling the offerings, the higher her status in the face of faith.

But such mothers are actually not difficult to deal with; just listen to whatever she says and say whatever she wants to hear.

The key is not how much truth he tells, but whether his words can make her more convinced that she has raised a son who can bring the Black family back to its peak or even surpass it.

He only needs to give her enough material to show off, and she will be content to immerse herself in her own tale of glory and stop bothering him about what he really needs to do.

Regulus turned away from the window and sat down at the desk.

The practice of natural magic is now on track.

The magic of those magical plants does indeed have a certain innate tendency, as natural as water flowing downhill and fire rising upwards.

Wizards transform these tendencies into edible potions through boiling, mixing, fermentation, and rituals, but he skips these steps and directs the magic itself.

The direction was correct, but the efficiency was laughably low. The entire magic of a single White Dew plant was only enough to heal a small wound, and it would take a full three months to cultivate a White Dew plant.

However, the memories of his ancestor Eldrin told him that things would be different later on.

When you can unleash the vitality of an entire forest, the flow of a river, or even the natural power contained within storms and lightning, that is the direction that is truly worth investing in.

He's still at the starting line, with only a few seeds in his hand, but at least he knows which direction to plant them.

Regulus leaned back in his chair, his thoughts wandering.

His current magic system is like something pieced together from various parts, with Star Orbit Meditation as the foundation and other things piled on top of it.

He knows a little about everything, but not enough about anything; he has no real ability to become an absolute force that can change the course of the battle.

When a wizard's strength is insufficient, mastering a few powerful spells can indeed boost his combat power in a short period of time.

The Disarming Charm can still take down a bunch of people, while the Ironclad Charm can block most attacks.

But if you really want to go higher, spells alone are not enough. It's like building a tower out of sand. No matter how high you build it, it's still just a pile of sand, and a single wave can wash it down.

He thought of Dumbledore and Grindelwald, who were not powerful because of any one magic, but because they had their own understanding of magic, a complete system, and the ability to integrate different magics.

I don't know if Voldemort counts, although Dumbledore explicitly stated that he had gone further down the path of dark magic than anyone else, and that his understanding of death was deeper than anyone else's.

But Voldemort did indeed start with the Killing Curse and rarely used other magic.

It's unreasonable to say that Harry Potter's Disarming Charm can solve everything.

Regulus snapped out of his thoughts and continued to ponder.

He is currently in a period of rapid growth, and his talent determines that his potential is not low. Apart from magic that requires specific talents, he has almost no obvious weaknesses.

Therefore, before finding its core path, comprehensive development is the optimal solution.

Spatial magic is a good direction, and Apparition is the first step into this field.

In the original story, Apparition is a sixth-year course, and one needs to pass an exam administered by the Ministry of Magic to use it legally.

This is actually quite interesting. Spatial magic should be a high-level power, but it has become a skill that students can master.

The reason for this is probably that the principle of Apparition is relatively straightforward: wave your wand, lock onto the target, be determined, and have a clear intention, and you can tear through space and complete the displacement.

For him, all these conditions have been met, so learning will not be difficult.

More importantly, Apparition allows him to gain initial insight into the nature of space, laying the foundation for exploring more complex spatial magic later on.

He needed this skill not only for mobility, but also for understanding the rules of space, just as natural magic helped him understand the properties of natural forces.

He stood up, straightened the cuffs of his robe, and pushed open the door to leave the room.

Orion was in his study reviewing the backlog of documents from Wizengamot, the quill making a soft rustling sound as it glided across the parchment.

Hearing the knock on the door, he didn't even look up and said "Come in," while continuing to mark a clause with his pen.

Regulus pushed open the door to the study and stood in front of the desk.

Orion put down his quill pen after writing the last few words, leaned back in his high-backed chair, looked at his son, and waited for him to speak.

"I want to learn Apparition," Regulus stated his purpose directly, "I need you to be here to watch."

I'm worried about splitting up, but not that much. The main problem is that there's an anti-Apparition Charm at home that Orion needs to remove.

Orion looked at him for two seconds, nodded, closed the open file, stood up from his chair and said, "To the practice room."

The black iron door of the family training room slowly opened, and Orion walked to the rune array in the corner, waved his wand, and a flash of silver light appeared.

"The Anti-Apparition Charm has been dispelled. The range is limited to this room. Don't try to jump outside."

The training room had been restored to its original state. Regulus walked to the center of the room and stood still, his wand sliding into his palm.

He suddenly wondered what this old house would look like more than twenty years from now.

The Weasley twins would use this training room as their laboratory, creating all sorts of bizarre inventions and leaving the walls and floor even more wrecked than after their last duel with Orion.

At that time, only the Fiery Loyalty Charm was probably still effective in the house, or it might have been set up later. The other protective spells, including the current Anti-Apparition Charm, had probably long since become ineffective.

It's like a dead house, just an empty shell, all the vibrant magic inside has vanished along with its owner.

Sirius, what a spendthrift!

Regulus gathered his thoughts and focused his attention on the present moment.

Orion stood by the door, calmly reminding everyone of the important points: "Three things must be remembered: a clear goal, unwavering will, and a clear intention."

The loss of any one part could cause it to fall apart; at best, a few strands of hair would remain, at worst, arms and legs would separate.

Regulus nodded, his gaze falling on the stone platform at the opposite corner of the room; that was his target.

He took a deep breath and held his wand horizontally.

"Apparition!"

The feeling of being squeezed came instantly from all directions.

The rubber tube reappeared, and the walls of the tube pressed inwards from all sides.

The air in my lungs was violently squeezed out, my ribs made a slight creaking sound under the pressure, my vision went black for a moment, and a sharp buzzing sound rang in my ears.

The pressure vanished in an instant.

He stood beside the stone platform, wand still in his hand. Orion was looking at him, his face expressionless, but a hint of approval flashed in his eyes.

Success on the first try is only natural.

Regulus stood there, carefully savoring every feeling from that moment.

This is different from Orion manifesting with his entourage, where he was a passenger caught in the middle, passively enduring the pressure and release, with no control over the entire process.

This is different from the way Kreacher took him through space. The house-elves' magic seemed to have no process; in the blink of an eye, the person was already in another place.

This time, he took the lead himself.

He clearly felt that some force had forcibly pried open a crack in the space, and he squeezed into that crack and then squeezed out from the other end.

Using brute force to tear open space and squeeze from one end to the other is effective, but it is crude, direct, and utterly inelegant.

Orion walked over from the doorway: "How are you feeling?"

"It's like being stuffed into a tube." Regulus stretched his stiff body. "And you have to squeeze it out yourself."

"That's the feeling." Orion smiled slightly. "You'll get used to it after practicing a few more times, and once you do, it won't feel so uncomfortable."

Regulus didn't reply. He raised his left hand, his fingertips slowly tracing lines in the air, as if drawing some unseen path.

In that brief moment, he saw something.