Regulus's Freedom

Sirius remained silent for a long time.

He understood some of what Regulus had said, and some he didn't, but at least he absorbed it.

He gazed at the distant Forbidden Forest, its canopies outlined in layers under the setting sun, his mind replaying Regulus's three questions.

What is the relationship between magic and Magic? How should we understand Magic? What is the relationship between Magic, oneself, and the world?

He didn't quite understand it, but for the first time, he felt that some questions were worth considering.

Sirius's voice brought Regulus back to reality. "I have a question for you."

He turned his head, a serious look flashing in his eyes, even more serious than before. He opened his mouth, organizing his thoughts.

"You said Magic is related to me, related to the world," he began slowly, his words faltering, "Then if I want to do something, something extremely difficult, maybe impossible—"

But I just felt I should do it, so I did it. Will Magic help me?

He thought for a moment, then added in a lower voice, "Will the world help me?"

Regulus looked into his eyes and roughly knew what Sirius was asking.

I wanted to pull him away from Voldemort, I wanted him to stand with him in the sunlight.

He felt his younger brother was in danger and wanted to reach out and pull him out.

The premise of this belief is wrong.

He never got caught up in anything; every step he took was his own, proactive, clear-headed, and purposeful.

But the power of belief has nothing to do with whether the premise is right or wrong.

When a person wholeheartedly believes in something and then acts on it, that process itself is how Magic works.

If the premise is right, you'll succeed; if the premise is wrong, you won't succeed. But the strength, understanding, and experience accumulated in the process are just as real.

He doesn't correct the premise; he's making decisions for Sirius, and all he can offer is direction.

"Then do it," Regulus said softly, looking at the clouds on the horizon. "The answer is with you, not with me."

Go ahead and try it. If it works, it works; if it doesn't, you'll know why. That's better than asking me."

Sirius stared at him for a long time, and the wind blew across the lake, brushing against their robes.

He didn't speak immediately. He turned his head and stared at the distant lake, his eyes dimming.

There was a long silence, long enough for the sun to sink further below the mountain ridge, the orange hue on the horizon to turn deep red, and the clouds to slowly change from dark gold to gray-blue.

Sirius didn't fully understand, probably not most of it, but he did remember it nonetheless.

Regulus's words may sound like he's just fooling people at first glance, but upon reflection, even if you don't want to admit it, there's always a reason behind what he says.

"So," Sirius's voice was dry, "Think about these things?"

Regulus shook his head, his tone casual. "Think about everything worth thinking about."

Sirius snorted and said nothing more.

The two walked a little further, hugging the wall, going around the west side of the Castle, and arrived at the covered bridge, below which lay the waters of the Black Lake.

The lake surface shimmered with a dark gold in the afterglow of the setting sun, and a breeze blew up from the lake, carrying moisture and coolness.

Sirius suddenly spoke up, "Then what do you want?"

Regulus turned his head to look at him.

Sirius stopped, gazing at the distant lakeshore, his tone demanding, "What do you want? You keep walking forward, refusing to stop. Where are you going?"

Regulus took a few steps, turned his back to him, and whispered, "Freedom."

Sirius heard this word, his mind automatically connected it to that conversation from last year.

Power and choice: With power comes choice, and with choice comes freedom.

He nodded thoughtfully, feeling that this was the answer he had assumed.

Freedom—he understood the word.

He thought he understood.

Regulus turned around and saw the look on Sirius's face, knowing what he was thinking.

He didn't correct it.

Freedom, of course, who doesn't like freedom?

Freedom of choice certainly counts, but that's only something for the present moment, a temporary phase.

Power, choice, and cost—these three elements form the cornerstone of freedom; that's what we were talking about in the previous conversation.

This is the first stage, the prerequisite; we are still far from the End.

The second stage is spatial freedom.

From the ground to the sky, from the atmosphere to interstellar space, from this planet to the next.

Break free from all spatial barriers and go wherever you want.

He wanted to see the Starry sky above him, the things that light had taken tens of thousands of years to reach, and to truly stand in front of those stars.

Standing on the ground, craning your neck to see a single point of light, is so boring. Even Gnomes can stay up all night gazing at the Starry sky.

What he wanted was to cross the darkness, traverse the void, and stand before that light.

The universe is infinite, space is infinite, and the places we want to go are infinite.

What is the end of space? What lies beyond space? If space has no end, then what does infinity itself mean?

These questions have no answers, or rather, the answers lie in places we haven't been yet.

The third stage is freedom of time.

Live on, keep living, until you've explored everything you want to explore.

Exploration takes time; reaching infinitely distant places requires an infinitely long time.

If a person only has a lifespan of one or two hundred years, what they can see is limited, the places they can go are limited, and the truths they can understand are limited.

He didn't know if he was afraid of death, but he was certain he felt it was too short.

He wanted enough time to see enough things, to travel far enough, and to understand enough profound truths.

The freedom he desires is essentially a transcendence—a transcendence of any individual, any faction, any era, and the inherent limitations of the human wizarding species.

Space confines him to Earth, time confines him to his lifespan.

These two walls are the default setting for everyone; he doesn't accept the default setting.

Complete freedom is the combination of spatial freedom and temporal freedom.

Infinitely far, infinitely long.

The sun sank below the ridgeline, leaving only a thin layer of red light on the horizon. Dark blue pressed down from overhead, and the first star appeared.

One by one, the windows of the Castle in the distance lit up.

The two walked back along the base of the wall.

Sirius got what he wanted, Regulus said what he was willing to say.

The wind was getting cool, so Sirius pulled up the collar of his robe and put his hands back in his pockets.

As we arrived at the Great Hall entrance, a lively din poured out from under the door. People were laughing, shouting, and eating; the clinking of knives and forks against plates filled the air.

Sirius stopped at the door, glanced at Regulus, and Regulus glanced at him back.

Gray eyes met gray eyes, and nothing was said.

Sirius grinned, waved to Regulus, and turned to walk towards the Gryffindor table.

Regulus watched him plunge into Potter's group, then turned and walked towards Slytherin.

At the other end of the Slytherin table, Avery was looking around, his mouth bulging as he chewed something, his cheeks puffing out.

Seeing Regulus approaching, he raised his arm high and waved at him, about to speak, but almost blurted something out, so he quickly covered his mouth.

That's not very elegant.

Regulus went over and sat down.

Dinner was as lavish as ever, with the long table piled high with food.

Steaming hot Roast Lamb Chops, a mountain of mashed potatoes, crème brûlée trembling slightly on the plate, and jugs of Pumpkin Juice side by side.

Regulus picked up his fork, and just as he speared a piece of roast beef, he caught out of the corner of his eye that Avery was exchanging glances with Hermes.

Avery's eyebrows were almost touching his hairline, and his chin was jutting out towards Regulus; his whole face was straining.

Hermes sat opposite Regulus, head down, poking at the mashed potatoes in his plate with his fork, turning it over, poking it again, but never looking up.

Alex, sitting next to Hermes, reached under the table and poked him. Hermes shrank his shoulder but didn't react.

Alex poked it again, adding a bit more force, Hermes finally raised his head, his face expressionless. He glanced at Alex, then lowered his head again to continue poking at the mashed potatoes.

Lina sat next to Alex, hiding her face with her cup, her eyes glancing over the rim of the cup.

Samuel sat a little further away, quietly cutting meat, but his head was tilted slightly and his ears were noticeably perked up.

Everyone is looking at Hermes.

Hermes sat directly opposite Regulus, head down, without uttering a word.

Regulus roughly knew what was going on, but didn't pay much attention.

These guys must have talked it out; they planned to have Hermes apologize during the meal. With so many people around, it wouldn't be good for him to shut up if he spoke up then.

According to the original plan, the activity was to continue tonight.

The Room of Requirement, one-on-one, he fights Hermes.

Apologizing or admitting a mistake is ultimately just a matter of saying a few words; it's all over.

But he didn't let Hermes speak; once a sentence was uttered, it was gone and couldn't be remembered.

If he wants Hermes to remember, then he must make the body remember.

That's just how long this guy's brain is; what his body remembers is more useful than anything else.

Hermes certainly didn't want to get beaten up again, but upon reflection, he realized that his progress in those intense one-on-one matches was indeed significant.

The response speed of the Legilimency has increased significantly, and the stability of Magic Manipulation under extreme pressure has also improved considerably.

Every time I leave the Room of Requirement, my whole body aches so much that I can barely walk straight, but my mind is clear.

Even more sober than before, after being repeatedly crushed under high pressure, the resilience of the mind is visibly growing.

He understood Regulus's meaning perfectly well.

He's not afraid of getting beaten up, but it depends on who he's with.

If anyone else had hit him like that, he would have fought back with his life on the line; he wouldn't even accept being beaten by his own father.

However, he acknowledged Regulus's beating because he respected it from the bottom of his heart.

So he didn't mind being beaten, and even wanted to continue, but he didn't want to be labeled as someone who had made a mistake and was being punished.

He usually doesn't care about anything when he's out in public, and he doesn't care what others think of him. He always has a gloomy face, so people avoid him, which is a good thing.

But in the Dormitory, within this small group, he cared about his image.

Having already experienced the benefits of high-intensity competition, I want to continue, but the reason needs to change from punishment to training.

So we have to get past this hurdle first.

Hermes took a deep breath, his face flashing with several expressions.

Impatience turns into hesitation, hesitation leads to awkwardness, and awkwardness leads to gritting one's teeth.

Admitting mistakes is more difficult than a thirteen or fourteen-year-old wizard might imagine.

His mouth opened twice and then closed again; his throat moved; and his brow was furrowed so deeply it could crush a cockroach.

Finally, he made his expression as stiff as a board, avoided eye contact, pursed his lips, gave up thinking, and spoke directly.

His voice was harsh. "Regulus, I was wrong."

Regulus put down his Tableware, picked up a napkin to wipe his mouth, and looked up at Hermes across from him.

Hermes' face was expressionless, his eyes slightly lowered. He didn't look at her or anyone else, but stared at the mashed potatoes on the table that had been poked and mashed beyond recognition.

There was a moment of silence.

Avery slapped his forehead, his eyes filled with despair.

Is this your attitude? You're such a grown man, didn't you ever cause trouble as a child? Can't you even apologize?

Alex reached under the table and tugged at Hermes ' arm, signaling him to behave.

Hermes remained unmoved and continued writing.

Lina almost couldn't hold it in anymore next to Alex, and quickly hid her face behind the cup, her shoulders shaking.

Samuel lowered his head, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, then quickly looked away.

Regulus looked away, took a sip of Pumpkin Juice, put down the glass, and said casually, "Let's eat."

Hermes remained silent. After a moment, he slightly raised his eyes, glanced at Regulus, and then lowered them again.

A moment later, he rubbed his fingers on the table and swallowed hard again.

After hesitating for a long time, stiffening his neck, he finally squeezed out a sentence, his voice even harder than before. "Then—can we continue?"

Avery stared wide-eyed at Hermes, then at Regulus, his fork frozen in mid-air.

Alex's expression slowly shifted from shock to admiration, Lina's eyes darted back and forth, and Samuel seemed lost in thought.

Regulus's lips twitched slightly upwards.

This guy got a taste of the benefits.

If you want it, then give it to me; give it to me with all your might.

He nodded. "Okay."

Hermes ' expression instantly changed; he came to life, picked up the cup, and gulped down a mouthful of Pumpkin Juice.

Then he picked up his fork, lowered his head again, forked a large piece of beef, and stuffed it into his mouth, his cheeks bulging.

After chewing a couple of times, he forked another piece of Yorkshire Pudding and shoved it into his mouth, sauce and all, with a ferocious eating style.

I need to replenish my energy; I'm going to get another beating tonight.