Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 601 You absolutely mustn't do that

Regulus looked down at the jar on the table. In the market, the jar alone would fetch a high price.

In the past two years, Slughorn has been attending classes, teaching potions, and never missing a single Slug Club party. He's been going wherever he wants during holidays, and he was even being shown around the Malfoy family wedding.

Maintaining a network of contacts that covers most of the European magical world is a full-time job in itself.

But two years have passed, and the idea he casually mentioned to Slughorn back in his first year didn't seem to have any hope of coming to fruition.

Unexpectedly, the old man spent two years memorizing the recipe and went through so much trouble to finally make it, flipping through books, asking around, finding materials, and experimenting with the proportions.

Anyone would be moved by this.

Regulus picked up the jar, turned it over in his hand, and ran his fingers along the edge of the sealing wax.

This kind of potion is so different from the British approach, and no one in continental Europe has ever been heard of making it; it's like starting from scratch.

Moreover, it's something that enhances physical strength and power. The fact that the professor could produce it means that the side effects have been completely resolved, and it's a mature product that can be used directly.

"Professor," Regulus looked up, his tone sincere, "something like this must be a great achievement for you, right?"

"It's not much of an achievement, just a bit of work," Slughorn waved his hand, his eyes crinkling with a smile, his round face full of pride. "But it is indeed one of a kind."

He picked up his teacup, took a sip, and looked at Regulus: "This medicine is rare and difficult to obtain, but it's not over yet."

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

Slughorn leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of the table, his stomach against it: "It's a mature product now. Applying it can strengthen the body, it has no side effects, it can be preserved, and it can be used directly. At this level, it has reached its peak."

But this foundation can be further developed; it can serve as a base ingredient for another top-tier magical potion, a direction completely different from physical enhancement.

Regulus's heart skipped a beat. The base, adding things on top, the old man's words had a hidden meaning.

He sat upright, his posture relaxed, and continued to flatter, "Professor, just this finished product..."

Slughorn waved his hand to interrupt him, his expression darkening and his tone changing.

"This medicine has a unique feature: after it penetrates the skin, it forms a very thin structure on the body's surface that can hold some substances."

Regulus asked, "What are you carrying?"

Slughorn looked at him for a while but didn't answer. He then said to himself, "I have a few things to tell you. Listen carefully."

"You said, Professor."

"The first step, the materials," Slughorn's smile vanished completely, his brows furrowed slightly, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened: "Seven main ingredients and three auxiliary ingredients."

In the fissures of the Arctic permafrost, there grows a type of moss called White Night Frost Moss. It can only be harvested for two weeks a year. Once the sun's angle changes, the moss loses its activity and must be sealed immediately after harvesting. If the temperature rises even by one degree Celsius during transport, the material is ruined.

Regulus listened quietly.

"The second type is the bark of the silver-veined tree from the Moon Mountain of the Ouagadou tribe in West Africa. That tree only grows on the shady side of the Moon Mountain. The bark is only peeled once a year under a specific lunar phase. The tree is still alive after the bark is peeled, but the bark cannot be peeled again for three years. It is not available on the market. You have to trade it with the tribe, and they decide what you trade it for."

Slughorn held up another finger: "The third type is mineral powder from the Tonga Trench crater in the South Pacific. It is collected within 72 hours after a volcanic eruption during the Southern Hemisphere winter, when the water temperature is below minus two degrees Celsius. If the timing is slightly off or the water temperature is slightly different, the powder will lose its activity."

He paused to catch his breath, picked up his teacup to moisten his throat, and continued, "The fourth type is the bone powder of deep-sea horse carcasses from the north coast of Scotland. These must be old, naturally deceased waterhorses that have been buried in the seabed mud for at least fifty years."

The fifth type is the pith from the tail feathers of ptarmigans from the high-altitude Andes Mountains. This pith is taken from the center of the feather; only one pith is extracted from each feather.

A small section can be taken.

The sixth type is volcanic ash crystals from the Icelandic tundra. These must be collected in the third month after a volcanic eruption; if collected too early, the crystals will not crystallize, and if collected too late, the crystals will begin to weather.

The seventh type, the most obscure of the main ingredients, is the sulfide deposits from hydrothermal vents on the North Sea seabed. These must be collected during the intervals between eruptions, as the water temperature is too high during eruptions and too low during the intervals. The timing of those few minutes in between is crucial.

Regulus raised one eyebrow upon hearing this.

The Arctic Circle, West Africa, the South Pacific, Scotland, the North Sea, the Andes, and Iceland—seven main ingredients, circling the globe, all under the right season, the right time, and the right conditions.

"Three auxiliary ingredients," the professor continued, "coral bone powder from the depths of the Indian Ocean, which must be obtained outside of the coral's spawning season; obsidian fragments from the bottom of glacial lakes at high altitudes in the Alps, which must be collected when the lake is completely frozen; and a third ingredient is my own blending agent, the formula of which is with me and not to be shared."

“These things,” Slughorn’s tone suddenly became serious, “you must never collect them.”

Regulus looked at him in surprise.

The professor withdrew his hand, placed it on his stomach, and leaned back: "Don't go. Once you start collecting, you'll want to collect them all, and once you collect them all, you'll want to endure it."

He paused, looking at Regulus's face.

"You must not collect them all. Once you do, and boil them together with this ointment, its function will change. It will no longer be something that strengthens physical strength; it will become something else."

Regulus gave a very slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, already roughly understanding what the professor was talking about.

"The second step," Slughorn didn't give him a chance to reply, "is the cooking time."

"The magical activity of some materials is related to the position of stars. If the celestial configuration is wrong, everything brewed will be ruined. There are very few suitable windows. The most recent one is during the days when Sirius and Procyon are in conjunction."

Regulus's lips moved, but he didn't ask any further questions.

His astronomical knowledge was sufficient; this constellation occurred three days before or after the winter solstice, just before Christmas.

This timing coincided with the message Lucius had given him: Voldemort wanted to see him on Christmas.

coincidence?

Slughorn noticed Regulus's change in expression but ignored it, continuing, "Even if you manage to gather all the ingredients and are really planning to brew it, even if you accidentally put them all together, don't brew it at this time of year under these celestial signs."

His voice rose slightly: "Otherwise, the medicine won't be the same medicine anymore; it will really be different from the original."

What could Regulus say?

He nodded.

"The third step," the old man tapped his hand lightly on the table, indicating that the important part was coming: "If you really manage to gather the materials and brew the medicine within those three days of the winter solstice, you must not rely on your strong spirit and powerful soul to extract your own soul characteristics and melt them into that pot of medicine."

He stared at Regulus, slowing his speech: "You absolutely mustn't do that."

Regulus blinked; he had a strong sense of déjà vu.

"If you do that, this medicine will put a shell on your soul. It's not a bad thing; it can block some external magic, but it will also separate your soul from the outside world."

Regulus's gaze fell on the jar on the table.

Now that things have been said to this extent, what else is there to misunderstand? Black Magic Mark.

What Voldemort branded on the Death Eater's left forearm was certainly not just a simple tattoo.

That thing is connected to the soul; Voldemort could use it to summon his minions, sense who was where, who was alive, and who was dead.

The professor's indirect approach, rather than stating things explicitly, is what he meant by beating around the bush.

Even though this office was one of the most private places in Hogwarts, even though the old man had just pushed a jar of ointment that took two years to make in front of him, and even though he had told him a lot of things he absolutely could not do.

Regulus was silent for a moment, then raised his head and nodded slightly.

Seeing that Regulus understood, Slughorn visibly relaxed, took a candied pineapple from the plate, popped it into his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, picked up his teacup, took a sip, and moistened his throat.

"Step four: drawing."

He put down his teacup, wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, and his tone returned to its previous rambling style: "Even if you really gather all the materials, really brew it under that star sign, and really accidentally extract your soul characteristics and put them in, you absolutely must not paint it on your body in that way."

The old man drew a closed circle in the air with his hand: "It's a painting method that spreads out layer by layer, covering the whole body, with patterns connecting to patterns, leaving no gaps between the patterns. Don't do it that way."

His expression brightened, and his tone carried a humorous emphasis: "Otherwise, it will form a complete shell on you, a sealed shell, covering your entire soul, so that nothing outside can touch your soul at all."

Regulus nodded obediently, his posture upright and his expression serious: "I understand, Professor, I will definitely not do that."

Slughorn looked at him, a smile finally appearing in his eyes: "Fifth step, solidification."

"After application, the medicine must remain on the skin for a specific period of time. During this time, it must not be disturbed by any external force, cannot be exposed to water, cannot be used to cast spells, and must not have any emotional fluctuations."

Throughout the entire day, from beginning to end, the surrounding environment must be absolutely quiet, and you yourself must be absolutely still.

You absolutely must not do anything unnecessary during this period. If you disrupt the solidification process even once, the previous four steps will all be wasted. I mean, you absolutely must not do that.

He paused to catch his breath and said in one breath, "If you really go this far, if you really create a complete, closed shell on your body, if you really put this shell on the outside of your soul..."

During this period, you must absolutely not touch water, absolutely do not cast spells, and absolutely do not let your emotions fluctuate.

Otherwise, this shell would truly form, truly align completely with your soul, and you wouldn't be able to tell it from the outside.

His eyes kept glancing at Regulus's face, glancing at him after each sentence and at the very end.

Regulus looked at Slughorn and smiled. "Thank you, Professor. I understand."

Slughorn's shoulders relaxed completely, and he leaned back in his chair, a smile returning to his round face. He patted his stomach, his tone much more relaxed.

"Good that you understand, good that you understand."

His tone became more relaxed: "Don't take it too seriously. Even if you manage to gather all these things, really get through the process, really get rid of the shell, and really align it with the soul, so that you can't tell it from the outside, there's nothing to worry about."

He looked at Regulus, a smirk playing on his lips: "At your current level, peeling off this shell would be easy for you."

Regulus looked at the old man's round face and his eyes, which were narrowed into slits, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards.

He picked up the jar from the table, put it in the inner pocket of his robe, and patted it: "Professor, I'll take this."

"Take it if you want," Slughorn waved his hand casually, "just don't let me find out what you do with it."

He reached into the dish, took another candied pineapple, popped it into his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, wiped his fingers with a handkerchief, and looked out the window toward the Black Lake.