Regulus of Hogwarts: Lord of the Stars

Professor Flitwick continued, "Your observation is correct."

The Guardian Charm is the most direct example. It requires the caster to draw upon the positive power deep within their heart, and the quality of that power directly determines the form and strength of the Guardian Charm.

If the inner light is lacking, the incantation cannot be ignited.

Regulus listened quietly; the guardian deity—he knew that name well.

"In theory, any spell can be influenced by one's state of mind," Professor Flitwick said, looking at Regulus and borrowing his words.

"But this kind of immersion is mostly unconscious and fluid, and at the same time difficult to capture."

Attempting to deliberately control it is extremely dangerous. Forcibly distorting one's mental state to conform to the spell may cause unexpected changes to the spell.

It could be good, or it could be bad; if it's bad enough, it could even cause damage to the soul.

"But it's not impossible," Regulus said.

Professor Flitwick stared at him for a long time.

"Yes." Finally, the professor nodded slowly.

"It's not impossible, but the road is full of traps. Many wizards in history have tried it. Some succeeded, some went mad, and many more got stuck halfway."

The pure, unintentional feeling of casting a spell can never be found again.

Regulus nodded thoughtfully.

He knew, of course, that the Killing Curse required an extreme will to kill, and the Crucifixion required sadism. The Soul Reaper's Curse requires a strong desire for domination.

The stronger the emotion, the greater the power of the spell; this is the basic logic of black magic.

"A lot of dark magic..." Professor Flitwick lowered his voice, his eyes becoming serious.

Dark magic is not a taboo topic in older students; in fact, very few young wizards are completely isolated from it.

"...Requires strong negative emotions, anger, hatred, fear, pain."

These emotions are intertwined with the dark magic itself; the stronger the negative emotions, the greater the power of the dark magic, and the greater the power of the dark magic, in turn, stimulates even stronger negative emotions.

He looked at everyone in the classroom with a serious and warning look in his eyes.

"This is a dangerous cycle for those who seek the power of dark magic."

Having found a way to become stronger, they will try every means to deepen their negative emotions, deliberately create pain, amplify hatred, and immerse themselves in darkness, until finally—

Professor Flitwick paused and gently shook his head.

"In the end, you won't have any positive emotions left in your mind."

People are becoming increasingly extreme and deviating from the norm. Moreover, when dark magic reaches its highest levels, it can corrupt wizards in turn. It's not that they are incapable of turning back, but that they simply don't know how to turn back.

Regulus knew that the professor was warning him about the dangers of dark magic.

He leads people astray, into darkness, and to the loss of themselves, but Regulus has something else in mind.

What if we replace the term "black magic" with "white magic"?

Are extremely positive people not dangerous?

If a person firmly believes that he is absolutely right, that his justice is supreme, and that all his opponents are evil.

What's the difference between this extreme positive and extreme negative?

They are all willing to sacrifice everything, including their own rationality and empathy, for a certain goal.

Wizards are often not afraid of being surrounded by extremely positive people, because positive emotions are usually associated with kindness, justice, and protection.

But in essence, extremes are extremes; society simply gives positive extremes a gold label and negative extremes a black label.

Regulus recalled a passage from "A Brief History of Soul Magic".

A small number of powerful and determined dark wizards frequently use dark magic but remain unaffected.

Regulus even thought it was possible that they hadn't resisted the influence of dark magic, but simply hadn't taken it seriously at all.

Magic is just magic, merely a tool; corruption stems only from the wizard's own inner wavering and indulgence.

If a person's heart is strong enough, knows what they are doing and why they are doing it, and can bear the consequences, then does it matter what kind of magic they use?

Dumbledore studied dark magic in his youth, and he probably hasn't stopped now; Grindelwald is an even greater master of dark magic.

At their level, black magic and white magic are just that—used, used.

What influences them is not magic itself, but the purpose they use magic to achieve, and the philosophy behind that purpose.

As for Voldemort, let's not even talk about him!

Regulus snapped out of his thoughts.

It's too early to think about these things now; he's far from that level.

He simply believed that magic is a tool, and the key is the person using the tool. The tool itself is neither good nor evil; good and evil lie in the user's choices and consequences.

After class, Professor Flitwick kept Regulus behind alone.

"Your idea is very interesting," Flitwick said, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses.

"Keep thinking, but remember that theory is one thing, practice is another. Mental state is a very subtle thing, and forcibly controlling it may backfire."

"I understand, Professor." Regulus nodded respectfully.

The lesson didn't cover much substance; Regulus already knew the knowledge Professor Flitwick was presenting.

However, he was still grateful to the professor, whose reminder was entirely well-intentioned.

For his own good.

However, he was still grateful to the professor, whose reminder was entirely well-intentioned.

For his own good.

Moreover, it can't be said that there was no gain; it served as a reminder to him.

After leaving the classroom, he went straight to the Room of Requirement.

The training room was empty, the wooden floor gleaming warmly under the magical lights. Regulus walked to the center of the room and sat down cross-legged.

He began to ponder what the imagery of the starry sky was.

Or rather, what kind of vocabulary can describe the starry sky?

Calm, vast, grand, and eternal.

If this imagery could be infused into the spell as a stable execution environment...

He raised his wand and pointed it at the training dummy: "Protect yourself with armor."

A silvery-white barrier unfolded in front of the dummy, a standard iron armor spell, with uniform thickness and stable magical power distribution.

Regulus took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

As he meditated on the stars, the fourth star of Orion lit up deep within his consciousness, but he didn't want the specific constellation image; he wanted the feeling.

Cold, distant starlight travels countless light-years to reach Earth, burning steadily over a vast timescale.

The vastness of the universe, the eternity of the starry sky, and the sense of order in which all things operate under rules.

He lets this feeling fill his heart; he doesn't want a particular emotion, he wants an image.

It is knowledge at the cognitive level, knowing how vast the universe is, how long time is, knowing how insignificant one is within it, and at the same time knowing that one's insignificance is still thinking and existing.

Then he cast the spell again: "Armor Protection."

The barrier reappeared.

But this time it's different. The barrier is a darker color, leaning towards silver-gray, with faint, almost invisible star-like halos on its surface.

The barrier has a more stable and denser texture, like rocks formed by the compression of continental plates over millions of years, with a tight structure that is difficult to shake.

Magic consumption increased by approximately 15%.

He withdrew the spell, walked towards the dummy, and touched the spot where the barrier had been with his finger.

A faint magic lingered in the air; the starry sky-like texture remained, as if the embers of a recently extinguished fire still retained their warmth.

feasible.

Although it consumes more energy and requires entering a deep meditative state to invoke that imagery, it is indeed feasible.

This is a cognitive resonance that transcends emotional resonance, using a rational understanding of the universe and the starry sky as the background tone for casting the spell.

Regulus made a note of this discovery.

This is just the beginning, but the direction is there, and it is indeed feasible.

Later, you can try other spells, such as attack spells infused with the imagery of falling stars, binding spells infused with the imagery of gravitational fields, and even healing spells infused with the imagery of life being born in the universe.

There are many things to try, but magic is truly amazing.

No, magic is inherently wondrous.

......

During the last week of January, Hogwarts Castle was shrouded in a gray silence.

Students were running in the corridors, knives and forks were clattering in the auditorium, and professors were lecturing in the classrooms.

But a certain discordant atmosphere disappeared, at least for Regulus.

None of the unwarranted provocations, deliberate difficulties, or probing conflicts that occurred last semester happened this month.

Slytherin was unusually peaceful. Older students would nod in greeting when they saw him, and younger students would make way for him. Even the pure-blood heirs who were most prone to causing trouble seemed to have suddenly learned to be polite.

But Regulus knew the reason only when he was in Regulus's presence.

The Malfoys' public appearance at their Christmas dinner almost signaled a certain attitude; many pure-blood families would instruct their children not to provoke them, at least not now.

But Regulus also knew that this wouldn't last forever.

There is a deeply ingrained logic in the education of pure-blood families: status is earned through struggle, and relationships are built through competition.

Peace is only a temporary truce; conflict is the norm.

Some might argue that Voldemort's forces don't need to be harmonious.

That person probably prefers his subordinates to check and balance each other, competing with one another, so that he can maintain control.

So sooner or later someone will step forward.

It might not be about defeating him; that would be too difficult. Regulus couldn't think of any young wizard with such abilities, at least not in Hogwarts at the moment.

Perhaps it was just to show our stance: our family isn't afraid of Blake, and we dare to provoke him.

Or, to be even more foolish, one might think that since the Dark Lord needs conflict among his subordinates, then creating conflict would be a meritorious act.

Regulus waited, no rush, what's meant to come will come.