The Changed Magic Power Texture

Each of the six stars is on its own orbit.

Betelgeuse glowed with a dark red light, Bellatrix shone with a blue-white light, the Belt Stars were stably connected, and Saiph was on the outermost edge, so faint as to be almost invisible. The entire system operated smoothly, with no deviation in its trajectory.

He brought his consciousness to the surface, to the Mental Layer, and found the Containment Chamber.

A pure white, hexagonal room, with no doors or windows.

The Virtual Persona crouched in the corner, its Magic Power dark and gloomy, with a corrosive gray shadow hanging around its edges.

The Rune it carved on the ground covered the entire floor and extended crookedly to the walls, like a calendar carved by a person who had been imprisoned for too long with their fingernails in a cell.

It sensed it; the Bone Box was outside, and new materials were coming.

It stood up from the corner, walked to the wall, placed its palm on it, spread its fingers, and traced lines on the white inner wall with its fingertips.

There was no sound, only the look that welled up in those eyes: curiosity, thirst, and an heightened focus.

Regulus opened the Magic Conduit.

Last time it was a trickle, this time he turned the flow up.

The message and Magic Power of Dark Enlightenment flowed from the Bone Box into the Containment Chamber through the Mental Channel. The grayish-black substance was poured in through the tubes, with a higher concentration and greater quantity than before.

The Virtual Persona raised its hand and caught it.

Dark gray Magic Power gathered in its palm, its eyes lit up, reflecting the churning things in its pupils, which were then stained black, like thick ink spreading in its eyes.

It started working.

With its hands gesturing in the air, it outlined one Rune structure after another, some of which were fragments of spells brought from the Bone Box, and some were variations that it deduced itself during its idling.

Its expression became focused, its eyes filled with fervor, and it silently chanted, its movements becoming faster and faster, its gestures becoming more and more frequent.

Stop making a fuss.

Now that there's something to study, all that irritability, wall-scratching, and madness has disappeared; all that's left is research.

Regulus observed for a while, confirming that the Virtual Persona was stable and that the flow of Magic Conduit was normal.

Then he began what he was really going to do.

Filtration Layer.

The previous setting was full-scale filtering, where all information and Magic Power with polluting properties were intercepted in the Containment Chamber, and only purified, clean knowledge was allowed to pass through.

Now he's lowered the setting and enlarged the mesh of the sieve.

The filtration accuracy dropped from full to about 60%, and the semi-polluted substances that were originally blocked, the gray stuff between pure dark Magic Power and clean knowledge, began to seep out.

The direction is from the Containment Chamber towards the Main Consciousness, but separated by Star Orbit.

The Grey Matter traveled outward along the Mental Channel, like smoke, like fog, without a fixed form, only a heavy texture, carrying a downward pressure that was not aggressive, but more like a declaration.

Kneel down.

obey.

This is what Voldemort gave us: domination.

A power attribute that fundamentally demands submission from all who come into contact with it, making one want to kneel, or wanting others to kneel.

Pain and domination—this is the underlying tone of the Magic path revealed by Dark Enlightenment.

The Grey Matter seeped into the outer edge of the Star Orbit and touched the first layer.

Betelgeuse.

A dark red light burned there, but it wasn't in the form of flame; it was more like a continuously expanding heat source, pushing and exploding outwards. The Grey Matter was forced back when it touched the area covered by the red light.

Pure attribute counteraction.

The image of Betelgeuse is one of outward expansion and outward burst; its Magic Power pushes outward from the inside, while the Magic Power of the Grey Matter seeps inward from the outside. The two Magic Power collide head-on, and the gray matter is pushed back by the red light, like water flowing against the current hitting a floodgate—there is no comparison.

They retreated, took a detour, and went to the edges that Betelgeuse couldn't reach.

The Grey Matter seeped in along the gaps in the Star Orbit, bypassing the area Betelgeuse, and continued deeper into the region.

We encountered Bellatrix again.

The blue-white light was quiet and still, just shining there.

Then the Grey Matter stopped.

It's like a person walking and bumping into a wall, but this wall has nothing to do with physics; it's a definition.

Inside this wall lies Regulus, his will, his soul, and his self-definition.

Anything else does not belong here.

Bellatrix does nothing; it simply shines there, and its shining is everything.

The Grey Matter piled up outside the blue-white light, churning and accumulating, but couldn't get past it.

It has enough power, just at a different level.

They are Voldemort's power—powerful, heavy, and possessing a dominating quality.

However, what Bellatrix Protection is not in the dimension of power.

It Protection who I am, and Regulus's independent will itself.

This boundary is not maintained by force, but by confirming who you are, what you want, and that you will not be changed by anything external.

Further in, the starlight of the Belt Stars forms a closed loop, surrounding the soul at its very center.

The Grey Matter swirls and churns outside the closed loop, like waves crashing against rocks, wave after wave, without ceasing, but to no avail.

A closed loop represents order; Grey Matter represents chaos.

Where there is order, chaos cannot enter.

The Soul Avatar is in the center of the starlight, separated by Bellatrix and the three-star closed loop.

It was there, shining, and the turmoil outside had nothing to do with it.

Regulus glanced at Saiph.

On the outermost edge, the faint, almost invisible glimmer remained unchanged.

As expected.

He withdrew from the Spiritual World, and the effects are already evident.

Those Grey Matter were confined to the outermost layer of the Magic Power cycle, beyond the Star Orbit and within the Mental Barrier.

They adhere to the surface of the Magic Power, altering Magic Power original texture.

He could feel something new, a shadow, a heaviness, emanating from the Bone Box, covering him.

He raised his right hand and pointed his index finger at the candlestick on the corner of the table.

A small flame leaped from my fingertip and landed on the candle wick.

The candle is lit.

The flame burned normally, an orange-yellow color, but not entirely normally.

There was a very faint gray ring at the base of the flame, barely noticeable unless you looked closely, but it was there nonetheless.

He sensed the difference when the Magic Power was unleashed.

It was heavier, thicker, and heavier than usual, like a layer of lead had been wrapped around its Magic Power surface.

It doesn't affect the accuracy or speed of Spellcasting, but it changes the texture of the Magic Power when it's transmitted to the outside world.

Oppression, domination, suffering.

If someone sensitive to Dark Arts stands in front of him, they will sense that this person's Magic Power is abnormal, that something is corrupting him, or that he wants to corrupt others.

But that's all there is to it.

He adjusted the Filtration Layer's precision back to full, and shut the Containment Chamber's interface down to its minimum, leaving only the small amount of bandwidth needed for the Virtual Persona to process the materials. The source of the Grey Matter was cut off.

Those already attached to the surface of the Magic Power will not disappear immediately; they will dissipate naturally over several hours, or he may need to actively remove them.

He didn't clear it; he left it.

Make it again before the dinner the day after tomorrow, just adjust the concentration.

He placed the Bone Box back into the Rune Box, the Rune were subtly engraved, he pushed it into the drawer, and closed it.

Baruk leaned closer as soon as he pulled his hand away from the drawer.

It placed its front legs on the back of his hand, and its chelicerae opened and closed slightly, making a clicking sound.

Regulus tapped its carapace with his index finger.

Baruk shrank back slightly, then straightened up again, placing his front legs back on top.

He didn't move it anymore, leaving it there.

The flame on the candlestick burned, its light flickering on the table.

Baruk lingered on the back of his hand for a moment, then crawled back to the corner of the table and curled up in a ball.

Regulus stood up, walked to the bedside, and lay down.

There were several cracks in the ceiling, just like in Sirius's room, running from one end to the other.

He watched for a while.

Close your eyes and go to sleep.

December 25, 1973, 5:30 p. m., Grimaldo Place, Entrance Hall 12 Grimmauld Place.

Orion stood in the doorway, his black tuxedo impeccably tailored, the collar pulled up just below his Adam's apple, the Black Family Crest pinned to his right breast—silver with black patterns, Twin Stars and Sirius, gleaming coldly in the green flames.

He wore Family Ring on his left hand, his right hand hung naturally at his sides, and his face was expressionless.

Regulus stood to his right, his robe style similar to his father's: narrow shoulders, fitted waist, and hem just covering his ankles, with one less band of silver thread on the cuffs Orion's.

He wore the same ring as Orion on his left hand, with the same design and pattern, but without the authority of the Patriarch.

Sirius stood next to Regulus, wearing the same black robe and the same patterned cuffs, but he seemed a little uncomfortable in it; even though the collar fit perfectly, he still reached out and tugged at it.

He had nothing in his hands.

Walburga wore a dark green evening gown, high-waisted, narrow-sleeved, with the hem reaching her feet. A thin silver chain adorned her neck, and her hair was styled in a high bun. She was impeccably dressed and stood among three men in black robes, the only one with color in her outfit.

"Go to the Main Banquet Hall first when you arrive, don't linger in the Entrance Hall too long," Walburga said while checking his gloves, his gaze sweeping over the three people without looking at anyone, but not ignoring anyone, just stating his point.

"Rodolphus is the Master, Bellatrix is the Master, and the Lestrange family is hosting this year, so the rules are more elaborate than in previous years."

Orion, remember to talk to Rodolphus a bit more. You and old Abraxas talked for so long over at the Malfoy family last year, you can't afford to be too distant here."

Orion didn't respond.

Walburga turned to Regulus: "Reggie, Bellatrix will definitely want to talk to you tonight, you..."

"Um."

"No, wait, I haven't finished. Her temper is getting worse and worse."

Walburga paused, put on his gloves, and began to straighten his skirt. "Remember my words, Bellatrix is one of us, and she's talking to you, so you should listen carefully. "Orion didn't move.

Regulus didn't move either.

The two people stood in the Entrance Hall, almost like two stone statues wearing robes.

Sirius was moving all over.

Walburga was still talking.

She mentioned banquet etiquette, saying that although it was a buffet dinner tonight, the way one held the wine glass should not be casual.

When it came to the wording when talking to Bellatrix, Bellatrix was now the Master of the Lestrange family, so he couldn't call her "Bellatrix" like before; he had to call her "Lady Lestrange."

When asked why Sirius was absent last year, he said he was unwell and resting in Grimmauld Place.

Upon hearing this, Sirius's face contorted in pain, his lips drooped, and his nose wrinkled, as if he had stepped on something.

He had been tolerating Walburga's nagging, but he couldn't take it anymore and snapped, "I'm not sick."

Walburga finally turned his head and looked at him directly. His gaze instantly turned stern, and his brow furrowed as if he was about to explode.

Orion raised his hand, palm down. "It's about time."

Regulus watched this scene unfold.

This scene is quite interesting. The father knows what's going to happen tonight, he knows what's going to happen tonight, and Sirius knows what the dinner party is all about. Nobody considers that kind of occasion to be anything important.

The so-called Christmas Banquet, those in the inner circle all know what it is: a social event put on for everyone else.

The banquet is a stage where the Pureblood families performs a play, and the audience is themselves; the symbolic meaning far outweighs the practical meaning.

The truly important decisions are made in the Study, in a private conversation by the fireplace, in the margins of a letter, but never when a group of people are raising their glasses.

Besides, he's going there tonight to cause trouble.

Meanwhile, Walburga was teaching them how to hold the wine glass.

Only she truly cares about these things.

Pure-bloods honor, social etiquette, the Black family's reputation, Mrs. Nott's opinion, and the Malfoy family's assessment.

What she cared about was whether the Pure-bloods accepted the Black family, whether her husband was respectable enough, whether her son was outstanding enough, and whether the dress she wore was worthy of her surname.

These things are everything to her.

Orion walked toward the door, and Walburga followed, taking his right arm.

Orion let her hold his arm, not shaking her off, but he didn't look at her either.

He glanced at Regulus and said, "He's yours."

Regulus nodded.

Orion and Walburga stepped out of the Entrance Hall, Apparition, and vanished.

Only the two brothers remained in the Entrance Hall.

Regulus turned to look at Sirius, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Sirius's expression changed slightly. "Don't..."

Regulus has never been to the Lestrange Manor, but he can catch up with Orion.

He grabbed Sirius's right arm, and the next moment, the space tightened, and with a snap, he disappeared.