Sirius's Reflection

Urgent! Major plot twist! Watch now!

Every word Regulus said was something Sirius had never considered.

He thought he could leave the Black family only because he did it.

When he left home, he thought he was leaving on his own, that it was his own decision, his own ability, that he was the one who pushed open that door and walked out on his own.

He thought he had won, but Regulus said there was no pursuit from home.

Just watch, it's super smooth!

Then what is he?

What he perceived as an escape, Regulus saw as simply a lack of care.

Now that I've calmed down and thought about it carefully, I realize that it might really be true.

He chose Gryffindor, Walburga went mad, Orion said nothing.

He didn't go home for Christmas; instead, he stayed at the Potter family. Walburga scolded him several times, but Orion still didn't say anything.

He thought he was resisting, rebelling, and telling that family in his own way that he didn't accept their ways.

But the other side didn't respond at all; his punches felt like hitting cotton, not even making a sound.

He had never thought about it in detail.

All he knew was that he didn't want to stay in that house, didn't want to hear Walburga speak, didn't want to be stared at by those Portrait, and didn't want to wear custom-made robes to those Pure-bloods banquets.

So he ran away, thinking everything would be alright, but Regulus didn't run away.

Once the thought came to mind, I couldn't stop it.

Was it because he wanted to escape that Regulus didn't run away?

Was it because he took that path that Regulus couldn't take it?

If he chooses Gryffindor, does that mean Regulus has to go to Slytherin?

He broke with his family, so Regulus had to stay and pick up what he had thrown away?

He had never thought about these things. He thought he was making his choice, Regulus was making Regulus's choice; two paths, unrelated.

But now it seems they're not unrelated; he chose the left, leaving Regulus alone on the right.

What he threw away all fell on Regulus.

Responsibility, family, the expectations of Pure-bloods, Voldemort's attention.

He didn't accept any of these things; he ran away, threw them away, thinking they had nothing to do with him anymore.

But these things don't disappear just because he ran away; they're still there, now on someone else.

Regulus had never told him any of this.

I didn't say it when I was a child, I didn't say it in Grimmauld Place, and I didn't say it at Hogwarts.

Maybe they felt it was pointless to say anything.

Sirius thought of this and wanted to laugh, but he couldn't.

He thought about his past self and realized that even if Regulus had spoken, he probably wouldn't have listened.

He would think it was an excuse, a variation of the Black family's rhetoric, another way to persuade him to go back.

He would shut those words out without even thinking about them, and throw them back directly.

At that time, no one could persuade him.

He then thought of the power Regulus had mentioned.

Voldemort could make people make the choices he wanted without even showing his face, Dumbledore could do the same; that's power.

When he said those words, his tone was the same as usual—no excitement, no heaviness, no anger.

It's like explaining the principle of a spell, "Dinner was good," a declarative sentence, and that's it.

Sirius couldn't tell whether there was any emotion in that voice.

He couldn't tell whether Regulus was forced into it or simply didn't care.

Regulus had always been like this; he had almost never seen him express his emotions outwardly.

Perhaps he expressed it to his friends, to his father, but he never said it to him.

Sirius felt a tightness in his throat as he thought about this.

He looked down at his hands, his fingers spread open, then clenched again.

He said he had found his talent, Transfiguration. Regulus said, "Great, keep practicing."

He could tell it wasn't just a perfunctory response; it was genuine approval. But what comes after that approval?

Why did he practice Transfiguration? To be better than James? To show off in front of his friends? To prove he was powerful?

He used to think that was enough; practicing Magic was for getting stronger, and getting stronger was for winning.

Why did Regulus practice Magic?

Voldemort didn't give him a chance to say no; Voldemort gave him a choice, but that choice only had one option.

Regulus practiced Magic, perhaps to give himself more options?

Sirius thought about this, he felt something pressing on his chest.

He used to think the difference between himself and Regulus was Magic; he hadn't practiced enough, wasn't ruthless enough, and wasn't willing to fight hard enough.

But now I think, the difference between them wasn't just Magic.

James came over from the side, waved his hand in front of him, and when there was no reaction, he waved it again.

Then he climbed onto Sirius's bed, sat cross-legged next to him, and bumped him with his shoulder.

"What are you thinking about?" James's voice rang out from the side, tinged with a hint of teasing. "I've been calling you for ages and you haven't responded."

Sirius snapped out of his daze, glanced at him, and said, "It's nothing."

James stared at him for a moment, then nudged him. "Are you really going to the Forbidden Forest?"

Sirius nodded. "Go."

James grinned, shoved his wand under the pillow, rolled over, and muttered, "That's good. I thought you'd been bewitched by someone."

Sirius didn't respond.

Lupin joined them, and the group discussed for a few more minutes. They decided to wait until curfew before setting off, exiting through the Portrait of the Fat Lady, taking the small gate on the side of the Castle, bypassing the Black Lake, and entering the Forbidden Forest from Hagrid's Hut.

James was speaking with great enthusiasm, while Lupin poured cold water on his enthusiasm, Sirius occasionally chimed in.

The atmosphere in the Dormitory gradually came alive, and it was no different from usual.

A vast collection of fantasy novels

Early morning, in the Forbidden Section.

Regulus stood in front of the innermost bookshelf, his fingertips hovering over the spine of a book.

The book has a dark brown leather cover, and the gold lettering has faded; the title can only be discerned upon close inspection.

"Transfiguration: Beyond Form," a work on Human Transfiguration, by Delhi Finn, 1739.

But his initial motivation for reading this book was not for Human Transfiguration, but for Spatial Transfiguration.

Spatial Transfiguration had been a problem for him for a long time, and the issue was clear: the Transfiguration space was extremely sensitive to any external Magic Power that did not belong to its own structure, and it would disintegrate at the slightest touch.

He had an idea in mind: Human Transfiguration.

A wizard casts a Human Transfiguration spell on another person. The Spellcasting's Magic Power must enter the other person's body, and the Transfiguration is completed under the continuous interference of the other person's Magic Power.

This may be similar to the problem faced by Spatial Transfiguration, both of which involve maintaining Transfiguration under the interference of external Magic Power.

The fact that Human Transfiguration can be performed suggests that there is a solution to this problem.

But how was it solved?

He thought at the time that Human Transfiguration couldn't possibly require the Spellcasting's Magic Power to be stronger than the Spellcasting person's; otherwise, what would that be—a contest of Magic Power numbers?

Then this Magic loses its meaning; it's just overwhelming with Magic Power, not skill, it's bullying.

There must be something fishy going on inside.

However, Professor McGonagall has already solved the problem of Spatial Transfiguration, so there is no need to consider the issue of external Magic Power anymore.

Now that the problem has been solved, his original reason for reading the book is no longer valid.

However, since we've already considered the Human Transfiguration, let's take another look.

Dumbledore said in the thick fog on the day he went to France that flight could be approached from the perspective of Transfiguration.

Borrow the qualities of different Magical Creature and integrate them into your own body.

The skeleton of Fire Dragon, the Spatial Perception of Thestral, the regenerative abilities of Phoenix, the vision of Griffin, and the wind control capabilities of Thunderbird.

These are all Human Transfiguration.

By grafting certain traits onto animals, the body gains abilities it didn't originally possess.

Regulus listened and thought it was a promising direction.

Looking back now, Dumbledore was actually talking about a higher level of Human Transfiguration thinking.

Functional attributes such as skeletal strength, visual field, and spatial awareness are implanted into the human body through Transfiguration.

This is much more difficult than simple Morphing.

He flipped through some books on Human Transfiguration, but they were all standard and didn't require going to the Forbidden Section.

This topic is covered in the sixth-year Transfiguration course at Hogwarts, including Advanced Transfiguration, but most wizards, even those who pass the exams, cannot consistently cast them.

Most of what's written in those books refers to temporary changes in appearance and functional structural adjustments, without mentioning the kind of usage Dumbledore described.

So he came to the Forbidden Section to look for it.

Regulus pulled himself out of his thoughts, condensed his Magic Power into fine threads, and touched the Magic imprints on the pages. The thoughts and knowledge the author had infused into the book began to emerge in his consciousness.

Skip the overview section and go straight to the main text: cross-species Transfiguration.

It takes three steps to transfer the abilities of Magical Creatures to a wizard.

The first step is to extract the seed of Magic from a living creature. The wizard uses his Magic Power to probe into the creature's body, find the Magic Power that represents that Magic, and replicate it.

Regulus nodded as he read this; he was familiar with this pattern, as this was how the Severing Charm came about.

Although one is a plant and the other an animal, the underlying logic is the same: extract, replicate, and make it your own.

Give it a try, it should be fine.

The second step involves placing the replicated seed into one's own body, with the Spellcasting chanting an incantation and pointing their wand at their own body.

The function of a spell is to open an entrance, allowing external Magic Power to find its way in.

However, the book does not provide specific spells, but only indicates the Latin root structure of the spells.

Fcul, ability.

Mure, to change.

Corpu, body.

The combination method depends on the type of target organism and the required abilities.

The third step is to allow the two Magic Power to coexist, which is the most dangerous step.

A wizard's Magic Power will instinctively repel outsiders, requiring the Spellcasting to continuously suppress their own Magic Power and make room for outside Magic Power.

The longer the suppression lasts, the more the external Magic Power adapts, and eventually the two streams of Magic Power will flow side by side, neither crowding the other.

He continued, forbidden.

First, underage wizards cannot do this, as their bodies are not fully developed, and external Magic Power entering them will disrupt their own Magic Power structure, leading to permanent damage.

Secondly, you can't put too much Magic on one person. Two or more Magic will fight each other, and the wizard's body will be caught in the middle and won't be able to withstand it.

The book also records several failed cases, the most serious of which is the France witch trials of 1712.

She tried to transfer the dragon's scales' power to herself and succeeded, but her body couldn't withstand the intensity, and she died seven days later from internal organ rupture.

Regulus read to the last page, which was blank except for a single line of Magic Power chaotic annotations, as if written in a state of extreme exhaustion.

"They're all right, but haven't they tried breaking down the ability? Moving it as a whole will cause it to fight; instead, break it down into fine threads and then weave it together."

Regulus stared at that line of annotation for a long time, and a word came to mind: Magic Weaving.

He removed his fingers from the spine of the book.

There's no rush with Human Transfiguration; he's only in second grade, and the book says that underage wizards can't do it.

But he's physically developing well, so maybe we can give it a try in third grade.