Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

The mana consumed by spatial warp is equivalent to a disarming spell, which is tolerable.

But Regulus felt a faint sense of fatigue in his mind, a side effect of not having fully digested the inherited magic, and his mental burden was greater than usual.

There has been progress, but not enough; it is still far from practical application.

To make a spell travel through space, the trajectory and landing point of the jump need to be precisely controlled, and the smaller the error, the better. Moreover, it is definitely more difficult to teleport objects.

For the Ironclad Charm to take effect remotely, a warp must be completed instantly, ideally with no time consumption.

If the battle requires him to use such methods, even a delay of a millisecond could be fatal.

To directly attack a target's internal organs, one needs to penetrate multiple layers of defense on the wizard's body, including magical barriers, physical tissues, and even soul protection.

Each of these requires countless hours of practice, a deeper understanding of space, stronger control over magic, and a more resilient spirit.

But he was patient; if he could see the path, he would simply walk it.

Regulus put the Galon back into his pocket, stood up, and thought it was time to go back.

Regulus stepped out of the Room of Requirement, the door closing silently behind him, and the walls returning to their original state, leaving no trace.

He enveloped himself in the Disillusionment Charm and returned to his Slytherin bedroom along the same route.

They encountered no one on the road, the portraits were all asleep, the armor lay motionless in the niches, and the castle was as quiet as if it had sunk into the deep sea.

It was almost 1 a.m. when I got back to the dorm. Avery and Alex were already asleep, and I could hear their even breathing coming from under the bed curtains.

Hermes' bed was empty, the curtains were drawn tightly, and no one was inside.

After washing up, Regulus lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.

The Star Orbit Meditation operates automatically, with four silver stars slowly rotating deep within the consciousness, the magical circulation soothing mental fatigue.

However, the deep-seated burden caused by the excessive influx of inherited knowledge requires a longer period of rest to alleviate.

He decided to reduce high-intensity practice for the next few days and first digest and absorb the knowledge of natural magic and spatial anchoring spells.

go to bed.

......

January at Hogwarts was bitterly cold, with snowflakes falling from the sky and a slightly gloomy atmosphere.

Outside the castle, thick snow covered the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and a thin layer of ice covered the surface of the Black Lake, which shimmered with a grayish-white light under the gloomy sky.

The situation inside the castle was no better. The stone walls of the corridors were cold to the touch, and the windowpanes were fogged up. Even with magic maintaining the temperature, the students still wrapped themselves tightly in their robes.

Herbalism class was held in the third greenhouse.

Regulus went into the greenhouse, where it was much warmer than outside.

The magic maintained a suitable temperature, and the air was humid, carrying the scent of earth and plants.

The greenhouse was filled with all sorts of magical plants, from common devil's webs to rare poisonous tentacles, each growing in its own area.

Professor Sprout stood in the center of the greenhouse, wearing his mud-covered apron and holding a small shovel.

"Today, loosen the soil and repot the mandrake seedlings." Her voice was gentle and clear, echoing throughout the greenhouse.

"Work in pairs, each pair receives one pot of seedlings. Remember the steps, put on earmuffs and dragon skin gloves first, then operate."

The students lined up to receive earmuffs and tools. Avery volunteered to be in a group with Regulus and received a pot of mandrake seedlings.

The seedlings, no bigger than a palm, were planted in black ceramic pots. Their leaves were light green, and a tiny purple flower bloomed at the top.

It looks harmless, but this thing is incredibly powerful when it grows up.

The cry of an adult mandrake can be fatal, affecting both the body and mind.

In the original story, during a herbalism class, Neville Longbottom, overly nervous, forgot to wear earmuffs and briefly fainted after hearing the cry of a young mandrake.

If it's an adult screaming, it could even lead to instant death.

But seedlings are different; their magic is not yet fully developed, and their lethal magic has not yet taken shape.

Regulus put on the earmuffs, and the world instantly fell silent; he could only hear his own breathing and heartbeat.

He looked at the seedling, his senses spreading, and gently touched the seedling's leaves, roots, and soil.

He saw the magical flow within the seedling, like a delicate silver stream, slowly circulating between the plant tissues.

That flow carried a certain quality, and now that he had mastered natural magic, he could see it more clearly.

Rather than describing the emotions of plants, it's more accurate to say that they possess magical attributes or tendencies.

Some plants have mild magical properties and are suitable for healing, such as Dictamnus dasycarpus.

Some plants possess violent magical properties, making them suitable for attack, such as poison tentacles.

The magical properties of the mandrake are very special. Regulus carefully guided a trace of natural magic to establish a connection with the seedling's magic.

The seedling's magic gave feedback, a natural, chaotic, yet unformed hiss, a vibration at the level of magic, carrying a feeling that made the soul uncomfortable.

If amplified a thousand times, and with sound as the carrier and amplifier, it becomes a deadly scream.

But it is still weak now, and Regulus disconnected after only three seconds of contact.

Even though it was just a seedling, even though he only touched it for three seconds, he still felt a slight nausea, like the nausea he felt after a long, bumpy carriage ride.

A faint dizziness came from deep within my brain, which quickly subsided, but it was enough to prove the danger of this thing.

Moreover, he couldn't openly study it, as the mandrake seedling was Hogwarts property, precious and rare.

Every single one of these plants is recorded; the loss of even one would be a major problem.

Professor Sprout would not allow him to extract magic at will, even if it was just a small amount.

However, the Black family also had mandrake in their herb garden in Cornwall, although it was a family business with strict quantity management and record keeping.

But he is the heir to the Black family, so using some of his own things won't cause any problems.

Regulus composed himself and began to loosen the soil around the seedlings.

He moved very carefully, gently removing the surface soil with a small shovel to reveal the fine roots underneath.

The roots of mandrake are pale yellow, like small ginseng, with many branches and tiny magical light spots on the surface.

Avery helped by handing over tools and stabilizing the flowerpot.

The two worked together fairly well. Although Avery's movements were not accurate enough and he often almost scooped up the root of the target, at least he didn't make any major mistakes.

The other groups didn't have it so easy. One Hufflepuff boy used too much force and broke off a section of the root, earning him five points deducted by Professor Sprout on the spot.

The class passed quickly, and by the time the bell rang, most students had finished repotting, transplanting the seedlings into larger terracotta pots, filling them with new soil, and watering them with a special nutrient solution.

The mandrakes looked more vibrant in the fresh soil, their leaves swaying slightly and the purple flowers at the tips opening a little.

Just as Regulus was about to get up, Professor Sprout called out to him, "Mr. Black, stay a moment."

As the other students left the greenhouse, Avery glanced at Regulus, asking with his eyes whether they should wait for him.

Regulus shook his head, and Avery followed the crowd.

Only Regulus and Professor Sprout remained in the greenhouse.

The professor took off his gloves, wiped his hands on his apron, and walked up to Regulus.

She was not tall and a little plump, but she stood upright. Her face bore the tan lines from years of outdoor work, and her eyes were a gentle brown.

"We talked about the emotions and magic of magical plants last semester," Professor Sprout began, his tone gentle.

"I remember you asked me if it was painful when the tuber of the Babo plant secreted pus."

Regulus nodded: "Yes, Professor."

"I said at the time that many magical plants do indeed have simple emotions," Professor Sprout continued.

"Now I'd like to add something: the word 'emotion' is actually inaccurate, at least not for magical plants."

She walked over to a white sage plant and gently touched the leaves with her fingers.

"They grow, they react, they have magic, they have feelings, but the pain, pleasure, and anger we talk about are just wizards applying their own standards."

Regulus listened quietly, lost in thought. What had the professor discovered by telling him all this?

"But the magic of magical plants has properties, that's for sure." Professor Sprout turned to look at him.

"Some magic is gentle and beneficial to wizards, so we say it is good; some magic is violent and harmful to wizards, so we say it is bad."

But magic itself is neither good nor bad; it's just that its nature differs.

She looked at Regulus: "I said the same thing back then, that the cry of the mandrake contains a powerful spiritual force."

This kind of magic directly interferes with the listener's soul stability, leading to a collapse of consciousness, which is a form of death on a spiritual level.

Simultaneously, the mental breakdown triggers a chain reaction in the body, so the ultimate cause of death is the dual collapse of both the body and the mind.

Regulus nodded earnestly; the professor's instructions at the time were indeed like that, and he remembered them vividly.

Professor Sprout then changed the subject: "But the more fundamental reason is that its magical properties contain a tendency to decompose."

That tendency propagates through sound, affecting the body and soul of living beings, causing their structure to collapse.

Regulus's heart skipped a beat. He had just realized this when the professor spoke up directly. Could it be that the professor had really discovered something?