Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Chapter 603 Orion: Let's Have Another One

The midday sun shone through the high windows of the Great Hall, scorching the young wizards in Gryffindor.

After finishing their meals, the students poured out, some chatting, some playing around, all heading towards the common lounge.

Regulus didn't follow Avery and the others into the cellar. Instead, he turned at the entrance of the Great Hall and headed towards the library.

It was the start of the semester, and the library wasn't crowded. Regulus sat down in his usual spot by the window and spread out a few potions books.

"A Guide to Rare Potion Materials", "Principles of Unconventional Potion Recipes", "Norse Magical Botany", "African Ritual Potion Traditions".

The materials Slughorn mentioned this morning—seven main ingredients and two auxiliary ingredients—we need to extract their information one by one.

He flipped to the table of contents, found the relevant entry, pulled out a piece of parchment, dipped it in ink, and began to copy it.

I spent half of my lunch break picking some.

Wednesday afternoon was the History of Magic class. Professor Binns was reading aloud about the Troll Wars from the podium. Regulus sat in the last row, his ears were listening, but his mind was already wandering.

As soon as the bell rang, he packed up his things and went back to the library. He searched until just before dinner, but still couldn't find everything.

These materials are too obscure; some entries are scattered across different chapters of several books, while others only appear once in the appendix of an obscure journal. It takes a long time to copy just one entry.

After dinner, he returned. One by one, the lights in the library came on, and the surface of the Black Lake outside the window was shrouded in darkness, with only one or two dim lights on the opposite hillside.

He picked up two more books from the bookshelf: "The Handbook for Gathering Materials for Magic Potions" and "A Compilation of Ancient Magic Potion Literature".

Around eight or nine o'clock, six books were piled on the table, their parchment pages densely covered with entries. Finally, I had found them all.

The origin, collection conditions, activity window, and preservation method of each of the nine materials are all summarized above.

He looked down and checked it once, then put down the quill pen.

The Black family does not brand themselves with the Dark Mark; this was decided long ago.

Voldemort probably won't touch him right now. The Black family holds too high a position in the pure-blood camp. If he were to mark him, it would be like pushing the Black family toward Dumbledore, which would also invite Dumbledore's intervention.

Voldemort wouldn't do that, at least not right now. He doesn't need this drug to protect himself from anything.

He collected these materials because they were rare, and since the opportunity was right in front of him, he decided to make them.

Once you've made it, keep it. No matter who uses it or when, it's an important asset.

He took out his wand and touched the paper with the tip.

A thin ray of golden light emerged from the tip of the staff, and the parchment floated into the air, beginning to fold in half, then in half again, growing smaller and smaller with each fold.

It shrank to the size of a thumb, hovered half an inch above the table, slowly rotated twice, and then disappeared with a snap.

The family bloodline beacon has been sent out.

Regulus put away his wand and glanced out the window.

My face was vaguely reflected in the glass, along with the lights in the library and the dark sky outside the window.

At this hour, Father should be in his study dealing with Wizengamot's documents, the Black family business, or those never-ending letters.

You can't be lying in bed in the dark and suddenly a bright light hits your face and startles you.

My father is getting old; he shouldn't be frightened too much.

He twitched the corner of his mouth.

The letter clearly stated that Slughorn had given him something—a potion related to the soul that could ward off the Dark Mark.

Slughorn may or may not know that Voldemort wanted to see him at Christmas.

There are nine kinds of materials, which can be found all over the world. It will take the Black family's resources and connections to collect them. The plaster will be kept with you for now.

He sat for a moment, then stood up, stacked the six books neatly, carried them back to Mrs. Pince, walked out of the library, and headed towards the cellar.

Go in that direction.

The master bedroom on the second floor of number 12 Grimmauld Place.

The curtains were drawn, and the fire in the fireplace glowed a dark red.

Normally it's green, but today, for some reason, the flames are reddish, and the flames are dancing quite happily in the furnace, illuminating the whole room softly.

A candlestick was lit by the bedside, its flame flickering gently inside the glass dome.

Walbuga leaned against the headboard, wearing a dark green velvet robe with the collar loosely open and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

Her hair was loose over her shoulders, with a few strands hanging down her neck. The fabric of her robe clung to her body, and her waist was faintly visible.

His forearms were draped over a thin blanket, and his skin glowed white in the firelight, without a single fine line visible.

The light slid down the curve of the neck and shoulders, landing on the collarbone and casting a small, light shadow.

Orion lay down next to her, against the other pillow, shirtless, with a thin blanket draped over his waist.

At 45 years old, he maintains a good physique, with faint muscle lines visible on his shoulders and chest.

The couple had just finished showering; their bodies were dry and refreshed, their hair tousled. The house was quiet, with the fire in the fireplace crackling occasionally.

A loud cracking sound.

Walbuga leaned closer to Orion, placing a hand on his forearm and tracing a line with his fingers.

Orion glanced at her sideways, a slight smile playing on his lips.

These days, things are harmonious at home.

After Walbuga changed, he softened considerably, and even the atmosphere in Place Grimoire was different from before.

Sirius Black was no longer famous, the house was missing a big son, Regulus had started school, and the whole house became quiet.

With fewer things to do at home, I had more energy to devote to other things.

When life is harmonious, the family is harmonious, the relationship between husband and wife is harmonious, and their sex life will also be harmonious.

Orion lifted the hand that was resting on her stomach and placed it on Walbuga's shoulder, her fingers sliding down her shoulder.

Walbuga leaned closer to him, his shoulder against his arm, the collar of his robe tilting slightly to one side.

The fire in the fireplace flickered, and the flame on the candlestick also wavered.

Walbuga moved his hand from his forearm to his chest, tapped it lightly with his fingertips, and then slid it down.

The atmosphere was just right.

Just then, a thumb-sized dot of light appeared out of thin air half a foot in front of Orion, hovered there, spun twice, and then unfolded into a letter with a snap.

The two stars and Sirius on the cover lit up briefly, then went dark again.

O'Brien stopped moving, and Walbuga stopped too, his hand hanging in mid-air from O'Brien's chest.

Her gaze shifted from Orion's face, drifted briefly towards the letter, then returned to the candlestick on the bedside table.

Orion recognized it: the Bloodline Beacon, sent by Regulus. He picked up the letter, glanced at it, and froze.

The letter was short, just a few lines. He read it twice, his gaze lingering on one or two lines.

Then he turned around and handed the letter to Walbuga.

Wolbuga naturally took it, lowered his head, and began to read.

After reading it, she looked up, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Given by Slughorn?"

Orion's hand was still on her shoulder as he nodded.

Walbuga pinched the edge of the letter with her fingers, glanced down at it again, and then the letter melted in her hand, turning into a few specks of light that drifted into the air.

She rubbed her fingers together, her face warmed by the firelight, a hint of doubt in her eyes: "Why would he give something like this to Rael?"

Orion tapped her shoulder lightly with his fingers, his tone casual: "Slughorn values ​​things differently from others."

He turned his head, gray eyes meeting gray eyes: "Clearly, he values ​​Regulus's future more than that one."

Walbuga nodded in agreement; the old man's eye for detail was getting better and better, but he was still somewhat puzzled: "But something of this caliber..."

"It is unusual," Orion continued, "but given the current situation, it's not too surprising."

Walbuga turned slightly towards him, the collar of his robe swaying slightly. "When will you be able to gather all these materials?"

"It's hard to say," Orion said casually. "We need to work on the permafrost in the next two weeks, and we need to send someone to Vargadu to negotiate first. The volcano didn't say that it can't be erupted by humans. We'll leave the rest to the people below and do it one thing at a time. It will take some time, but not too long."

Walbuga's brow relaxed, then furrowed again after a moment: "So Rael didn't prepare anything before Christmas?"

Orion pulled her closer to him: "He'll have plenty of ways to handle that day."

Walbuga leaned closer, propping himself up on a pillow with one hand, and lightly pinched his skin with his nails: "When did you find out that Rael was going to see that person for Christmas?"

Orion shifted his gaze from her face to the fireplace, his voice softening: "He told me about it a couple of days ago, the day before school started."

"A couple of days ago?" Walbuga rolled his eyes and patted him on the shoulder. "He didn't tell me."

"I didn't tell you because I was afraid you'd worry. Regulus knows what he's doing."

Volbuga snorted, lowered himself back down, rested his head on Orion's shoulder, and stared at the ceiling.

After a moment, she turned her head again: "Slughorn, can he be relied on?"

Orion turned his gaze back from the fireplace and thought for a moment: "The fact that he would bring something like this out to Regulus at this time means that he has thought it through."

Walbuga nodded in agreement, then asked, "Are you sure?"

Orion looked at him.

"Are you confident that you'll be meeting that person at Christmas, Rael?"

Orion looked at her for a moment, then said calmly, "Don't worry."

Before the worry in Walbuga's eyes had completely dissipated, Orion's mind had already started wandering to other things.

Horace Slughorn, Headmaster of Slytherin, England's most renowned Potions Master, and head of the Twenty-Eight Holy Families.

In terms of family size, the Black family is larger than the Slughorn family, but in terms of personal social status, reputation, prestige, and connections, he knows in his heart that the Slughorn family is superior to him.

This person has been operating in the British magical world for most of his life, and his connections are everywhere. Nobody knows who he can contact.

His students are scattered across the country, his collection could fill several Gringotts vaults, and he has attended more parties and banquets than any pure-blood patriarch.

He has now chosen to work with Regulus.

This level of cooperation, given the current situation, is specifically aimed at Voldemort; it's practically strategic.

Walbuga's voice rang out again: "So what are your plans? Once all the ingredients are gathered, who's going to cook them? Will he have to do it himself?"

Orion replied, "We'll see."

My mind wandered, and my thoughts took a turn, leading me to Sirius Black.

Having raised Sirius Black for so many years, I still don't experience the joy of raising a son. That kid has been going against me ever since he could walk.

He left Gryffindor, went against his family, and was eventually expelled, going to the other side.

This was arranged by the family, and he and Regulus made the decision together, but if there's any regret, it's a little bit.

If Sirius Black himself were willing to accept this arrangement and shoulder the family's honor, he wouldn't have to leave. But he simply didn't.

"Are you even listening to me?" Walbuga slapped his hand again.

"I'm listening."

My thoughts took another turn, and I thought of Regulus.

This child has never caused him any trouble since he learned to walk. He has learned what he needed to learn, practiced what he needed to practice, fought what he needed to fight, and set up what he needed to set up.

Now, Regulus is so independent that he makes all the decisions himself and is completely capable of handling things on his own.

There are many things he can't get involved in, such as the cooperation with Slughorn and the relationship with Dumbledore. Regulus is handling these things on his own, and the help he can provide is becoming increasingly limited.

Then I thought of Voldemort.

When he was in school, Voldemort was in the same school, in a different grade, but their student lives overlapped, and he had seen what Voldemort looked like when he was young.

That talent, that wizard who surpassed everyone else in school, he always felt was the strongest talent he had ever seen in his life.

Regulus's performance now far surpasses that of Voldemort, who is the same age.

But Orion is a sensible person. No matter how amazing one's performance is during their student years, it does not equal their final achievement. Even talent itself cannot determine the final achievement.

What matters is how to proceed, what you encounter, and which direction to choose.

Voldemort's rise to his current status took decades, while Regulus's rise to true power has only occurred in the last few years.

He had confidence in Regulus, believing the kid would eventually reach that level, or even surpass it.

But that's for the future. Right now, Regulus is facing Voldemort, and the objective gap between them remains.

Then he thought of Andromeda, who had received news a few days ago that she had given birth to a child, a natural-born disguise Magnus.

The Black family's talent has been passed down from generation to generation, and each generation always produces a few unexpected talents.

There's definitely something to say about Blake's bloodline; it shouldn't be wasted.

"Are you even sure you're in the right place?" Walbuga's voice pulled him back to reality.

Orion looked up from the ceiling and at her.

Walbuga pressed on, his voice growing urgent: "Tell me the truth."

Orion remained silent for a moment, a thoughtful look flashing in his eyes.

"Wolbuga".

Walbuga propped himself up.

"Let's have another one."