Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

In the spring of 1969, Regulus turned eight years old.

The room on the third floor of number 12 Grimmauld Place officially became his bedroom and study.

Orion gave him more space, a whole wall of bookshelves, a heavy oak desk, and an east-facing window.

But now Regulus would rather go into the storeroom at the back of the mansion.

The room was at the end of the kitchen corridor and was always locked. Walbuga said it was filled with useless things, the relics of expelled family members, which could not be destroyed but could not be displayed either.

There are relics of Alfred Black there, which were sealed in 1960.

Alphad, who was expelled a few years ago, had a clear friendly bias towards Muggles due to his fondness for and collection of Muggle items. Regulus had only heard the name from Walbuga's curses.

It took Regulus several years of study to successfully break the protective magic on the door; it was far more complex than a simple unlocking spell.

There were no magical items inside, only Muggle stuff: an old-fashioned vacuum tube radio, several National Geographic magazines dated 1950, a stack of The Times, and a few hardcover notebooks.

It took him two days to successfully repair the radio. The moment the current was transmitted, the vacuum tube emitted a warm orange light, and a hissing sound of electricity came from the speaker.

Regulus turned the tuning knob until a sound emerged from it.

"This is BBC Radio, bringing you the news."

NASA announced that the Apollo 10 mission successfully completed its lunar orbit, making final preparations for a manned lunar landing...

Regulus sat motionless behind his oak desk, his hand resting on the warm wooden casing of the radio.

The moon, Muggles are going to the moon.

Most people in the wizarding world are unaware of this, or if they are, they don't care.

To them, the moon was merely a silver disc in the night sky, used to calculate lunar phases for concocting potions, or as a backdrop for romance.

No one cared about the possibility of going there, because wizards didn't need to go.

They have magic.

But can magic achieve real space travel?

How to survive in a vacuum, resist radiation, and live for extended periods?

He didn't know, but he did know one thing: Muggles had done things that wizards had never tried, using pure science and engineering.

It might be something that even a wizard can't do.

Where are the limits of a wizard?

Muggles are pushing the boundaries we consider impossible, and if magic and science combine, perhaps even greater boundaries can be broken.

These thoughts were buried deep in his heart, yet they occupied an important place.

December 20, 1969, late at night.

Regulus was not asleep; he sat in a chair by the window, holding the old-fashioned vacuum tube radio in his hand.

The radio crackled with static electricity, but every word was clear.

"...Houston, this is Tranquil Sea Base, the Eagle has landed."

After a brief silence on the radio, a burst of cheers suddenly erupted.

Regulus gripped the radio tightly.

"Received, Jinghai. We're all on the ground on edge, it's time to prepare for exiting the capsule."

What followed was a long wait, with the sounds of instruments, commands, and occasional snippets of conversation coming from the radio.

"...I'm at the bottom of the gangway now. The lunar module's support structure is only an inch or two embedded in the lunar surface. Although the surface looks very, very fine, like powder, I'm about to take this first step."

What followed was an even longer pause.

Regulus stood up, walked to the window, and opened it. The warm summer night air rushed in, carrying the distinctive smells of London's coal smoke and brickwork.

He looked up; the moon hung in the sky, almost full, its silvery light cold and constant.

The voice on the radio came on again, this time clearer and more powerful.

"It's a small step for an individual, but a giant leap for humanity."

Regulus stared at the moon, that silver disc, the tool wizards used to calculate potion times, the romantic symbol in poetry, and now, two Muggles stood upon it.

Naturally, Regulus felt a sense of awe.

Muggles, with their limited lives, fragile bodies, and hands devoid of magic, went to the moon.

Wizards, on the other hand, possess the power to alter reality, the ability to traverse space, and a lifespan that can potentially extend to hundreds of years.

But what are they doing?

They vie for power and profit, research how to better harm their own kind, and argue about whose blood is purer.

They curse each other for a false power on a small island.

And he was right there in the middle of it.

Thinking of this, Regulus suddenly smiled. Now that he was here, he naturally had to make some changes.

One evening in late August, Regulus found Orion in his study. His father was reviewing documents. The atmosphere at the Ministry of Magic had been growing increasingly tense lately, and the Death Eaters' activities had shifted from being secret to being semi-public.

"Father, I have a question."

Orion put down his quill and rubbed his temples. "Speak."

How high can a wizard fly?

This question was sudden, even a bit absurd, and Orion paused for a moment: "It depends on what method we use."

The highest altitude recorded for a flying broomstick is 15,000 feet. Any higher and the air becomes too thin, making breathing difficult. Thestrals can fly even higher, but only to a limited extent. Why ask this?

Regulus didn't answer; he continued, "What if you want to fly even higher? High enough to leave the atmosphere?"

Orion stared at his son: "Why do you want to leave the atmosphere?"

"Just out of curiosity," Regulus said calmly. "The book says that ancient wizards tried to fly to the sun and the moon, but they failed."

"That's not a book, it's mythology," Orion corrected. "Muggles also have the myth of Icarus, which teaches us not to be arrogant."

Wizards possess magic, but magic has its limits. Outside the atmosphere... there is no air, no pressure, extreme temperatures, and unknown energy.

The head-bubbling charm lasts for a few hours at most, the protective charm is ineffective against certain types of radiation, and Apparition has distance limitations and requires familiarity with the destination.

He paused for a moment, looking at Regulus: "What are you thinking about?"

"I was thinking, 'You actually know about radiation? And even about vacuum environments?'" Regulus muttered to himself.

Regulus chose to be more candid, saying that his father was someone he could talk to: "I was thinking, Muggles went to the moon this year. They don't have magic, but they did it."

Orion remained silent for a long time, the candlelight in the study crackling.

"I know," he finally said. "The Daily Prophet had a briefing, tucked away in an inconspicuous corner, which the editors thought was just a Muggle charade, not worth paying attention to."

"But that's the moon," Regulus emphasized.

"To a wizard, the moon is just the moon." Orion stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to his son. "It affects werewolves, potions, and tides."

But it's not a place, nobody wants to go there.

"Why?" This was the most puzzling thing for Regulus. It was right there, so why didn't anyone want to go?

Orion turned around, his expression complex: "Because wizards only see magic, magic is on earth, in life, in the soul."

The starry sky... is too far away, too cold, too unfamiliar; it's not our domain.

"The scope can be expanded."

"Perhaps," Orion said, walking back to his desk. "But what's the price? What will wizards give up to explore the stars? How much risk will they take? More importantly, who will support them?"

He looked at Regulus: "Speak your mind. Don't use problems to cover up problems."

"I'm wondering," Regulus took a deep breath, "how far could we go if wizards channeled their energy for power struggles, their wisdom in researching dark magic, and their obsession with upholding pure-blood honor into other areas, such as exploring the stars?"

Orion did not answer immediately; he sat down and placed his fingers interlaced on the table.

"It's very far." After thinking for a long time, he said, "But the premise is that the wizarding society must first solve its own problems."

Voldemort is creating division, the Ministry of Magic is weak and evasive, and the conflict between pure-bloods and half-bloods is intensifying. In times like these, no one cares about the starry sky.

"But perhaps the stars are the way out," Regulus insisted. "If we look far enough that the struggles on Earth seem insignificant, perhaps we can transcend those struggles."

Orion smiled, a weary and sorrowful smile.

"Idealism," he criticized bluntly. "I had similar thoughts when I was young, but the reality is that it's hard for people to transcend their own level. Wizards are trapped on Earth, trapped in their flesh and blood, trapped in social relationships."

Then his tone became serious: "Also, remember, this kind of thinking is heresy in the current wizarding world."

Pure-blood families will think you're misled by Muggle technology, radicals will think you're weak, and Voldemort will think you're distracted. Keep it hidden until you're powerful enough.