Chapter 73: Thestrals and the Start of Term
The Hogwarts Express pulled into the station at four in the afternoon.
Regulus stepped down with his suitcase, and the platform noise hit him like a tide. Returning students packed the stone, voices overlapping, footsteps scraping, trunks thumping as people shoved past one another with the impatient energy of a term beginning again.
He made for the carriage stop with Avery and Alex.
The carriages looked as if they moved by themselves. There were no visible animals, only empty shafts and harnesses, and wheels that rolled over the gravel road with a steady crunch.
Regulus knew what was really there.
Thestrals.
He could not see them.
Only those who had witnessed death could see Thestrals, and Regulus had never watched someone die with his own eyes. So he saw only the carriages moving as if pulled by nothing at all.
It was, in a small way, a pity.
Thestrals carried a special weight in magical texts. They could fly. They could cut through storms and darkness. They could pass barriers that stopped other creatures. Some records even suggested they could brush the edges of space itself for a heartbeat, slipping through places that should not have passages.
More than that, they were a symbol.
Only those who had faced death and accepted the truth of life could see them.
Perhaps that was the point. Only by breaking through certain limits of understanding could one see what others could not.
In the wizarding world, symbols and images were sometimes magic in their own right.
Regulus climbed into a carriage already occupied by a few Slytherin students.
Avery dropped onto the seat and immediately began talking, his voice raised just enough to ensure everyone heard him.
"You would not believe the gathering at the Malfoy home over the holidays," he said, eyes bright with the expression of someone savouring a secret. "So many families attended. It was massive. Lucius hosted personally, and even old Mr Malfoy was there, though he only appeared briefly before leaving."
Every sentence was a hint. Every detail was bait.
As he spoke, he kept glancing at Regulus, as if seeking quiet confirmation while also showing off that he belonged to the same circle.
Regulus listened without comment, nodding occasionally.
Hermes sat in the corner and said nothing.
He looked even gloomier than before the holidays. His face was pale, faint shadows sitting under his eyes. His whole posture radiated a warning: do not come near me.
Alex sat beside Regulus, growing a shade paler as Avery kept talking.
Even without attending, even as a member of a Rosier branch line, Alex had a vague sense of what such a gathering meant.
Sides being taken.
Voldemort's forces gathering.
Hearing Avery describe it in half bragging fragments made Alex visibly uneasy.
Regulus noticed a few upper year students watching Avery with open contempt.
None of them spoke. They simply looked away and pretended to watch the scenery through the carriage window.
It was not that they lacked opinions. They were simply old enough to know when to keep them hidden.
In private, they might speak with even more excitement than Avery. They would simply do it where it could not be overheard.
The carriage passed the Hogwarts gates, rolled down the long driveway, and came to a stop before the castle. Students filed out and streamed into the bright warmth of the Great Hall.
The start of term feast was already underway.
Long tables overflowed with food. The ceiling had been bewitched into a starry sky. Candles floated in the air, shedding soft light over faces and plates.
Dumbledore sat at the centre of the staff table, his long silver beard catching the candlelight like thread.
Once the students settled, Dumbledore rose.
"Welcome back," he said, and his voice carried warmly to every corner of the hall. "Did you have a pleasant holiday? I hope you have all had plenty of rest, because we have a great deal of work ahead of us."
His gaze moved over the four house tables. Wherever it landed, the noise softened.
"Learning magic is not merely about mastering spells," Dumbledore continued. "It is about understanding our relationship with this world."
"Why do we use magic? For what purpose? For whose benefit? These are questions I hope you will ponder during your studies."
He lifted his goblet.
"To the new term. To the pursuit of knowledge. And to the things that make us better people. Cheers."
"Cheers," the hall answered.
Regulus raised his cup of pumpkin juice and drank.
Dumbledore's meaning was not subtle. He was reminding the students that magic could be more than competition and family pride. He was planting seeds: kindness, responsibility, a sense of purpose that reached beyond one's surname.
Regulus ate his roast chicken in silence.
He understood Dumbledore's position, and he respected the persistence behind it.
But Regulus had his own path. It might not align neatly with Dumbledore's expectations, and that was fine.
Everyone bore responsibility for their own choices.
After the feast, the houses split and returned to their common rooms.
The Slytherin common room glinted silver and green in the hearthlight, cold colours softened only by flame.
Narcissa stood near the fire speaking with several seventh year girls. When she saw Regulus, she gave him a small nod.
Regulus approached.
"Cousin."
"Regulus," Narcissa replied, smiling. "How were your holidays?"
"Not bad," Regulus said. "I met many people and learned some new things."
They exchanged a few more polite lines, all surface, nothing that mattered.
Then Lucretius Boke approached.
The Slytherin male prefect wore immaculate robes and a pleasant smile.
He bowed slightly to Narcissa first.
"Pardon the interruption, Narcissa, but may I borrow Regulus for a moment?"
Narcissa nodded.
"Of course."
She moved away with the same effortless grace she applied to everything.
Lucretius led Regulus to a quieter corner of the room.
"I saw you in Knockturn Alley over the holidays," Lucretius said, voice lowered as if sharing an ordinary secret. "You were with your father, inspecting the shops."
Regulus nodded. He had not been trying to hide, so being seen was expected.
"Next time you go," Lucretius continued, "stop by my family's shop. Borgin and Burkes, number 13B Knockturn Alley. There are some things you might find interesting."
Regulus understood immediately.
A gesture of goodwill.
Not a recruitment, not quite, but a deliberate tie being offered. Old Boke's reputation for shrewdness was not exaggerated, and Borgin and Burkes dealt in the kind of items that did not appear in school libraries.
"There will be things worth seeing there," Regulus said calmly. "I will visit during the holidays."
Lucretius's smile deepened. He patted Regulus once on the shoulder and departed.
Regulus remained where he stood, a thought flickering through his mind.
He wondered whether the Vanishing Cabinet was currently sitting in Borgin and Burkes.
That paired cabinet, linking Hogwarts and Knockturn Alley, would become important later.
But it was still early. Draco Malfoy had not even been born yet.
Regulus was in no hurry.
It was nearly eleven by the time he reached the dormitory.
Avery was still talking, animatedly reliving his holiday stories to Alex, who looked like he would rather drink lake water than listen.
Hermes had already drawn his bed curtains. A faint, unstable ripple of magic leaked through the fabric. Regulus glanced once. It was Dark magic, but not the deepest kind.
Regulus did not join the conversation. He washed, changed, and went to bed.
When he closed his eyes, his consciousness sank inward.
Starry Sky Meditation began to move, and the four stars of Orion lit within his mind. Silver white light traced the constellation's outline, and magic flowed along the tracks of those star paths.
But tonight felt different.
A faint throbbing rose from deep in his consciousness, as if his mind had been packed with too much information that had not yet settled.
Taking two inheritances in quick succession had put more strain on him than he had anticipated.
Nature Magic demanded understanding the essence of life.
The Space Anchor Charm demanded the control of spatial structure.
Both were advanced. Both required immense reserves of knowledge and precision.
The memories had poured into him like floodwater. They needed time to be absorbed, understood, and integrated.
Regulus could feel it clearly.
If he tried to take a third inheritance now, failure was likely.
His spirit was close to saturation. Forcing more ancestral memory into himself would, at best, produce confused fragments that he could not interpret. At worst, it would damage him, twist memory, and leave lasting harm.
He needed time.
The ancestors had not sealed their life's work in crystals so descendants could swallow it all at once.
Trying to consume it in a single gulp was like forcing a person to eat a year's worth of food in one meal. It would be a miracle if they did not burst.
An inheritance had to be digested, practised, and turned from another person's experience into one's own understanding.
That could not be rushed.
Regulus adjusted his meditation rhythm, easing the flow of magic until it became gentler.
He stopped pushing for speed.
Instead, he consolidated: stabilising the four star model, smoothing the magical cycle, strengthening the mental barrier.
When his spirit fully recovered, and when Nature Magic and the Space Anchor Charm were mostly absorbed, he would attempt to ignite the fifth star of Starry Sky Meditation.
That would be the next breakthrough.
Later.
For now, rest.
Regulus lay in the darkness and let his mind sink into the slow rotation of star paths.
The new term had begun.