By mid-September, the morning fog in the Scottish Highlands had yet to fully lift. The History of Magic classroom on the third floor of the castle was already packed with bleary-eyed first-years.
When Professor Binns drifted into the room, almost no one looked up.
Hogwarts' oldest professor began the day's lecture in his usual dry, unchanging monotone. "Today, we will continue our discussion of the Goblin Rebellion of 1612. The uprising began at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade Village, when the goblin leader—"
Regulus found himself watching the professor instead of listening.
Professor Binns was translucent. When sunlight passed through him, it left only the faintest shadow on the stone floor beneath the lectern.
What caught Regulus's attention wasn't the sight, but the magic.
Other professors' magic felt like living things. Flowing flames. A deep, still lake. Something vigorous and warm.
Professor Binns's magic was almost nonexistent. Or more precisely, nearly impossible to perceive.
Regulus closed his eyes and focused his magical senses toward the lectern.
A normal wizard's magic was like ripples on water, with a clear center and edge. Professor Binns's magic felt more like a thin fog.
Even, diffuse and stable. No rise or fall. No core. It blended so seamlessly with the surroundings that it was hard to tell where it ended.
As a child, Regulus had read that the soul was the source of magic. A ghost had to be sustained by something. So what did a ghost's magic look like?
A concept from his past life surfaced. The conversion between matter and energy.
When a wizard died, the body vanished and the soul remained.
What happened to magic?
Did it shift from being anchored to the body to being anchored to the soul?
Professor Binns continued droning on about goblins using counterfeit galleons to destabilize Gringotts.
Regulus looked out the window. The fog was thinning, revealing a sliver of dark green forest in the distance. His thoughts wandered farther.
If ghosts were remnants of the soul, then what was the difference, magically speaking, between a complete soul and a fragment?
Was Voldemort's pursuit of immortality an attempt to bypass the process of bodily death followed by soul remnants?
By splitting the soul?
He didn't have enough knowledge to draw a conclusion.
When the bell rang, Professor Binns had just reached the part where "the rebellion was ultimately suppressed by the Ministry of Magic." He didn't say a word about dismissal. He simply drifted straight through the wall, leaving behind a roomful of students who were still half-asleep.
---
At two in the afternoon, sunlight poured across the eastern side of the library. Madam Pince patrolled the shelves in silence, sharp-eyed and vigilant.
Regulus planned to linger near the outer edge of the Restricted Section.
By Hogwarts rules, first-years weren't allowed to borrow books from the Restricted Section, or even enter it.
But not being allowed to borrow didn't mean not being allowed to look. The shelves weren't fully sealed. From a distance, you could still make out some of the titles on the spines.
Madam Pince made a full circuit of the library every thirty minutes, and she always paused longer near the Restricted Section.
Regulus timed it carefully. He walked toward the area at an even pace, holding a copy of Changes in Medieval Magical Law as if he were just passing through.
His gaze swept the shelves and only stopped near the deepest end.
There sat a thick, leather-bound volume with frayed edges. The lettering on the spine was worn but still legible.
A Brief History of Soul Magic.
The author's name had been rubbed away.
Regulus tried to turn the page with magic alone. No spells. Just raw control.
He compressed his magic into a thread-thin strand and pushed it toward the Restricted Section.
It failed.
The instant his magic crossed the boundary, it was violently dispersed by a vast, heavy force.
He was about to try again when a cold voice sounded behind him.
"Mr. Black."
Regulus snapped all his magic back at once and turned to face the librarian. "Madam Pince."
"You stood in front of the Restricted Section for a full minute," Madam Pince said, her gaze sharp as a blade. "First-year students are forbidden from interacting with it. I trust you know the rules."
"Yes, ma'am." Regulus lifted the book in his hand. "I was looking for reference material. I passed by and couldn't help being impressed by the size of the collection. Hogwarts' library is remarkable."
His tone was sincere. His expression held nothing but genuine hunger for knowledge.
Madam Pince's expression softened by a fraction, though her eyes remained wary. "The books in the Restricted Section are sealed for a reason. Much of that knowledge is not suitable for young witches and wizards. Return to your seat."
"Of course, ma'am." Regulus inclined his head slightly and turned toward the Potions shelves.
I need that book, he thought.
As the library slowly grew more crowded, Regulus packed up his things and headed back to the Slytherin common room to finish his Potions essay.
---
At eleven that night, the Slytherin dormitory was silent.
Cuthbert Avery was already asleep, his breathing steady and even. A faint glow still shone from behind Alex's curtains. He was probably previewing tomorrow's Charms lesson.
Hermes's curtains were drawn tight. No sound came from within, but Regulus knew he wasn't asleep yet.
Regulus pulled his own dark green curtains closed and cast a soundproofing charm.
Then he sat cross-legged on his bed and closed his eyes.
Astrological Meditation lay open on his knees, turned to the third chapter.
[Resonating with Orion]
According to the book, Orion was the king of the winter sky. The three stars of his belt embodied balance and strength.
The meditator was meant to locate Orion in the night sky, touch the three stars with magic, feel the pulse of their starlight, and eventually synchronize their own magic circulation with the rhythm of the constellation.
Typical wizard mysticism, Regulus thought.
He'd tried it three times. Every attempt had failed.
The method wasn't wrong. He'd followed the steps exactly. Sense the night sky. Locate the constellation. Extend magical tendrils.
And got nothing.
He couldn't feel any so-called starlight pulse at all.
Constellations were just visual projections of distant stars. There was no real connection between them. Where would a pulse come from?
And yet, the method clearly worked for the author.
Maybe the author had some special talent. An ability to perceive things others couldn't.
Regulus didn't have that.
So he would replace it with what he did have.
An adult's way of thinking. A foundation in basic astrophysics. Sensitivity to geometry and mathematics.
Microscopic-level control over magic. Computational ability that bordered on absurd.
And his magical perception.
He needed a new approach.
First, abandon sensing the real night sky. If anything, Regulus suspected the author had written the book just to show off.
I have what you don't.
You couldn't see the sky from the Slytherin dormitory, but that didn't matter. He used magic to construct a constellation model in his mind.
Magic flowed deep within his consciousness, sketching the first point. Betelgeuse, the red giant marking Orion's right shoulder.
Then Rigel. Bellatrix. One point after another, lighting up the darkness of his inner vision.
Using memorized star chart data, he built a three-dimensional model, scaled by real relative positions and brightness.
It was exhausting.
Maintaining the precise placement of twelve points at once steadily drained both magic and focus. But Regulus held on.
Next came the connections.
Magic condensed into fine threads. From Betelgeuse to Bellatrix, forming the right arm. From Rigel to Saiph, forming the left. The three belt stars linked by parallel lines.
A glowing Orion took shape in his mind. Clean proportions. Smooth lines.
Then came synchronization.
This was the core.
The book's method relied on following the constellation's pulse. Regulus had no pulse to follow, but he had a model.
He imagined his own magic circulation as a luminous river. Then he embedded the Orion model into that river, letting the constellation's geometry become part of the riverbed.
As magic flowed past Betelgeuse, its speed adjusted slightly. At Orion's belt, it split into three thin streams, moving in parallel. Across the whole structure, it traced the constellation's outer contours.
At first, it was stiff. The magic resisted the imposed structure, and the model wavered. The points flickered.
Regulus slowed the flow, smoothing the circulation.
At the same time, he refined the model. The belt stars shouldn't form a perfect straight line. A subtle curve was needed.
Betelgeuse was 1.3 times brighter than Rigel. That point should exert stronger pull. Perhaps the flow should intensify proportionally as magic passed through it.
He kept adjusting.
Gradually, the resistance eased.
The magic began to adapt to the structure, aided by the countless hours he'd already spent training Magic Circulation.
Like water finding a new channel. Artificial, but smooth enough.
One cycle.
Two.
Three.
Regulus opened his eyes and let out a quiet breath.
He examined himself.
The speed of his magic circulation hadn't increased, but it was steadier. The ripples felt smoothed down.
With a thought, an invisible, heavy barrier snapped into place around his body. He held it for a full minute, then let it dissolve.
A moment later, he reached a conclusion.
Magic consumption was unchanged. Recovery speed had improved. The change was slight, but undeniably real.
It worked.