Making Magic More Magical

Nicolas stood up, his movements still shaky.

"It's getting late," Nicolas glanced at Regulus, her eyes softening. "The child should go home."

Regulus paused for a moment, assuming he would be staying overnight.

There are still so many questions I want to ask: the details of Magic Power conversion, the intersection of Alchemy and Transfiguration, the limits of life alchemy, and whether it is possible to create a soul.

But now that Nicolas has said this, there's nothing he can do; he can't just stay here and refuse to leave.

And based on this meeting, Nicolas should have a good impression of him.

There will always be other opportunities.

Nicolas's tone was even gentler than before. "Next time, don't Albus to bring you, come by yourself."

He turned and walked to the large desk, picking up a palm-sized Metal Ball from a pile of things.

It was silver-gray, with densely packed Rune engraved on its surface; in the firelight of the fireplace, the Rune seemed to dance.

He walked back and handed the ball to Regulus: "Here, just spin it whenever you want to come back."

Regulus accepted it with both hands.

The Metal Ball felt slightly warm to the touch, as if it had its own temperature.

He glanced at it and realized it wasn't Portkey, but more like a location tracking device or an invitation.

He bowed slightly. "I will, Mr. Flamel."

Nicolas waved his hand. "Alright, go ahead, Albus, take him with you."

Dumbledore a smile, "Alright."

The two walked out together, and when they reached the door, Regulus looked back.

Nicolas stood by the fireplace, the firelight casting a long shadow on the wall.

The alchemical instruments were still running on their own, ticking away, as if bidding him farewell.

The door closed behind me.

As I stepped out of that unassuming little building, it was already dark outside.

The streets of Paris are lit up with warm, yellow lights that are not glaring, shining through the windows and spilling onto the cobblestones.

A horse-drawn carriage passed by in the distance, its hooves clattering clearly against the dim street light.

Occasionally a car would drive by, its engine whirring, and it would quickly disappear around the street corner.

The air smelled of roasted chestnuts, wafting from some shop I couldn't tell.

Regulus and Dumbledore by side, neither of them speaking.

He was thinking of Nicolas.

A wizard over six hundred years old—how many things must he have experienced? How many people must he have met? How much Magic must he have mastered?

Regulus didn't think he could change anything with just a few words.

Wizards of Nicolas Flamel's caliber have long since become one with Magic in their mind, spirit, and will.

Without Dumbledore's introduction, he might have just been an ordinary junior wizard to Nicolas.

Those words about stars, those daydreams unrelated to Magic, would probably sound like childish ramblings to others.

A twelve-year-old child, by saying a few words about what's in the sky, could change the mind of a six-hundred-year-old Alchemy who didn't want to live?

impossible.

Even ordinary adults wouldn't be swayed by a child's words, let alone Nicolas Flamel.

Regulus thought to himself, and muttered a curse in his mind.

Dumbledore adept at using little boys to deal with old men.

The original plan was to use Harry Potter to deal with Slughorn and extract information about Horcruxes from the old man.

Now they're using him against Nicolas Flamel, hoping to rekindle their old friend's desire to live.

Regulus glanced at Dumbledore.

The old man was walking with his hands behind his back; his moon-white robe was somewhat conspicuous in the night, but the Muggle around him couldn't see him at all.

He didn't know if it ignited or not; he just went along with the act.

The two continued walking.

The streetlights passed by one by one, stretching and shortening their shadows.

Regulus suddenly asked, "Professor, you didn't bring me here today just to broaden my horizons, did you?"

Dumbledore to look at him, a smile in his eyes, "Why do you ask that?"

"It's just a feeling," Regulus said, "Mr. Flamel... seems a bit down."

Dumbledore didn't say anything, and the two walked for a while longer.

Then, with a touch of emotion in his voice, he said, "Nicolas is my friend, a friend of many years."

Regulus listened quietly.

"He's lived too long, so long that he feels he's seen everything he needed to see and experienced everything he needed to experience. This kind of thought is more terrifying than any curse."

Dumbledore paused, then said, "I never advise anyone to live; death is just another great adventure."

He turned his head to look at Regulus, a smile in his eyes, "But if he himself still wants to live, then I'll be very happy."

Regulus nodded in agreement. "Yes, death is an adventure."

Dumbledore smiled and said, "What you said today, about the stars, about wanting to see what's there, are wonderful ideas."

Regulus casually replied, "It's just that the more you see, the more you can't help but overthink."

Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder and said nothing more.

Regulus said that, but he was thinking something else.

There's another layer of consideration behind speaking about the heavens and the Starry sky.

Use lofty ideals to dilute the division between opposing camps.

My gaze wasn't on the ground, it was on the heights.

Regardless of whether it's true or false, or whether it's even possible, this is just how I think.

This is tantamount to telling Dumbledore that I am someone he can win over, that my focus is not on the struggle on the ground, and that I don't even have a left or right stance.

And what I said before, "Just don't get beaten to death," that was also a statement.

Don't get killed by someone.

What would make someone want to be beaten to death?

Given the current situation, it's either Voldemort's side or Dumbledore's side.

Dumbledore must have thought of that too, but he just smiled and didn't ask anything.

Regulus knew Dumbledore's attitude towards him: give him time, provide guidance, and never pressure him.

At least not now, because there's still time; it's not yet time to really make a choice.

And it must be said, his performance was quite impressive.

Regulus continued to think.

If forced to choose sides, Dumbledore would certainly protect the Black family.

Find a small house, use the Fidelius Charm to hide the address in his own soul, Voldemort will never be able to find any of Black's.

But what will be the cost?

Grimmauld Place, the family business, everything accumulated over centuries, all just to survive?

Moreover, the Black family isn't even his Black family. (Cola Latest update: Hogwarts ' Regulus: Lord of the Starry Sky)

He was only a twelve-year-old heir, not the Patriarch.

Those industries, those connections, those political resources, those wizards who depend on the Black family —these are not things he can simply give up.

Voldemort's side, Pure-blood Faction's side, aren't things he can just back down from.

He could think of these things, Dumbledore better.

Therefore, Dumbledore did not pressure him, but only gave him time and guidance.

They never talk about these things, which is an unspoken understanding in itself.

Regulus thought this was good.

The two stood on the street corner for a while. Dumbledore looked at the lights in the distance and suddenly reached out his hand.

"The Patronus ' movement is excellent," he said, "But it's getting late, let's head straight back to Hogwarts."

He looked at Regulus and winked. "When we get back, you can try letting it travel around the Castle. It should work."

Regulus's heart skipped a beat. Was this an extension of his authority, or an assurance that his Patronus could accomplish it?

Without giving it much thought, he figured he'd find out once he got back, and reached out to put his arm around Dumbledore's.

The next second, the streets of Paris disappeared, and the familiar Astronomy Tower appeared before me.

Regulus steadied himself and took a deep breath.

I didn't have any specific feeling, but I just felt like I was back inside those high walls.

Hogwarts and Dumbledore kept the outside world at bay.

The school was quiet; the worries about war, the fears about Voldemort, and the arguments about positions were all absent.

As for the commotion on campus, it was just a bit of noise to him.

I heard it, it's annoying, but I don't need to care.

This environment gives him the time to strengthen himself.

He needs this.

Dumbledore didn't rush to leave; he and Regulus looked up at the night sky.

The night sky was clear, with countless stars scattered across it.

Cygnus spans the Milky Way, Aquila is to its south, and Altair faces Vega across the Milky Way.

Lyra is near the zenith, Draco meanders in the low northern sky, with a string of stars forming an arc around its head.

Dumbledore, then said, "I used to look at the Starry sky all the time; it's beautiful and vast."

Then he looked down at Regulus, smiled, and said, "But I never intended to go up."

Regulus replied, "The stars are beautiful; just looking at them is wonderful."

Dumbledore smiled but said nothing.

After a while, he suddenly asked, "Magic Power and mass can be converted into each other, why did you ask that?"

Regulus's heart stirred.

Why ask?

Because he had thought of something else.

If Magic Power can be converted into mass, then conversely, mass can also be converted into Magic Power.

What would happen if we could convert enough mass into Magic Power in an instant?

Those qualities will disappear, becoming pure Magic Power.

Then, if that Magic Power were released instantly in some way—

What kind of spell could it be?

He couldn't imagine it, but he knew it must be terrifying.

Regulus thought for a moment and decided to say something romantic, "I just want Magic to feel more like Magic."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, then laughed. "An interesting answer."

Regulus lowered his gaze and didn't respond.

But in my heart I was thinking, "Tell me if it's interesting or not after I figure it out."

"Well then," Dumbledore, turning his gaze away, "Goodnight, Regulus."

The next second, he disappeared.

Regulus stood there for a while, gazing at the stars.

Then he turned around and walked down the tower.

It was almost 10 o'clock when I got back to the Dormitory.

Avery and Alex were both there; they were sitting at the table playing a game of Exploding Snap.

Hermes isn't here; at this hour, he's probably still working hard in the Room of Requirement.

Avery saw him come in and immediately sat up. "Regulus, where have you been during the day? I haven't seen you since I woke up."

Regulus glanced at him.

Slytherin has eyes; someone is watching him. Even if he trusts his roommates, there's no need for him to tell everyone everything.

"Library."

Avery paused for a moment. "The Library? I was here today..."

Regulus interrupted him, asking, "What did you do today?"

Avery stammered, unable to speak, his gaze drifting elsewhere.

Alex also looked away, pretending to look at the cards in his hand.

Regulus ignored them, picked up his toiletries, and went into the Washroom.

I was out all day today, not really tired, but I don't want to do anything tonight.

After washing up, I came out and lay down on the bed.

Avery and Alex exchanged a glance, then played a little quieter, with the occasional crackling of their Exploding Snap rather subdued.

Regulus closed his eyes and continued to think about the day's events.

There were two major takeaways.

One is the confirmation of the conversion between Magic Power and mass.

But this idea is too big; we'll have to put it aside for now.

How to do it? What method? How much Magic Power is needed? How to control it?

If it's actually made, who will use it?

It's all problems.

In theory, if the mass of a mass could be completely converted into Magic Power, that power could overturn the entire Hogwarts.

But how do you do it?

The Severing Charm causes the whole to fail; it does not cause mass to disappear.

To make quality disappear, we need to find a deeper underlying logic, perhaps the ultimate form of Transfiguration, perhaps another application of Alchemy, or perhaps a combination of both.

I don't know, I'll think about it slowly.

Another takeaway was about the soul.

Seeing, anchoring, and feeding are actually three processes.

The soul cannot grow up by locking itself away and raising it; it needs to go out, experience, and interact with the world.

The experiences, the choices made, and the influence exerted on the outside world all feed it.

This is the same thing as illuminating the direction of Saiph.

That's pretty much how things will be from now on.

Go out and get things done.

After thinking for a long time, he drew the bed curtains and sank into the depths of his consciousness.

The Star Orbit were in motion, the six stars were in their respective positions, Soul Avatar stood where all the light converged, shining brightly.

It wasn't brighter than yesterday.

sleep.