The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on Tuesday afternoon was filled with a scent that mixed old leather and dust.
Regulus sat in the third row of the Slytherin section, watching Professor Galatea Melos, the self-proclaimed former adventurer, on the podium.
He was using exaggerated gestures to describe how to identify and avoid Grindylows in the swamps.
"...And then, remember children! If you see bubbles on the water's surface and hear gurgling laughter, back away immediately! Grindylows love nothing more than dragging lone Wizards underwater!"
Melos waved his wand, conjuring a blurry image of a water monster in the air; clearly, he hadn't prepared any live teaching aids.
Tom Riddle, Regulus thought to himself, Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord—simply because he wasn't chosen as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, he placed a curse on the position.
Since then, no Professor had been able to hold the post for more than a year; they either met with misfortune, were forced to resign, or simply vanished.
A childish and cruel revenge.
Even more ridiculous was that this curse seemed to truly affect the quality of teaching.
Perhaps the Professors subconsciously knew it was a cursed position, so they just went through the motions.
Or they were afraid that the better they taught, the stronger the curse would become.
Regulus looked toward the podium, where Melos was demonstrating how to use Lumos to disperse shadow creatures in dark corners, but the light from the spell flickered unevenly, as if illustrating his own distraction.
The first-year curriculum was outrageously shallow: identifying a few low-level dark creatures, learning basic defensive gestures, and memorizing a few safety rules.
This material was all covered in the first two chapters of 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection'; the remaining time should have been used for practicing actual response techniques.
But there was no practice because Melos didn't teach it, and the students in the classroom didn't think anything was wrong; in fact, they were quite happy.
This broken class wasn't worth attending; self-study would be better... The Library was perhaps the quietest place in Hogwarts, free from the incessant noise of young Wizards.
Regulus nodded to Madam Pince at the entrance and received a stern look in return.
He headed straight for the Magical Theory and History section.
Since starting school, his physical reinforcement had continued with remarkable results.
But Regulus sensed a bottleneck.
The body is a vessel for the soul; he could make the vessel larger, but if the water didn't increase accordingly, it would just be an empty shell.
It would be meaningless.
The source of a Wizard's power is magic, and according to mainstream theory, it originates from the soul and is expressed through mental will.
So, could the mind itself be trained?
He stopped in front of a bookshelf, his gaze scanning the spines.
Most of these books were introductory readers on meditation, mental focus, and Occlumency; the content was simple, but the direction was correct.
Regulus pulled out a book titled 'Consciousness and Magic: A Study of Ancient Meditation Techniques'.
The book was thin, its parchment cover worn. He flipped it open and saw the title of the first chapter:
[Wizards change reality not through magic, but through the precedence of will]
He continued reading.
"Ancient Runes Wizards believed that magic is a bridge connecting the inner world with external reality.
A strong will can leave a mark on the physical world through this bridge.
Weather Magic changes the skies, and War Magic warps the environment; essentially, the Wizard's will forcibly rewrites reality through the medium of magic."
"Therefore, the difference in strength between Wizards lies not only in the amount of magic but also in the intensity, clarity, and resonance of their will with reality."
Resonance?
Regulus closed the book and fell into deep thought.
Why could some Wizards easily cast advanced magic while others struggled even with a Levitation Charm?
Beyond age, knowledge, wisdom, and magic, what else was there?
He thought of Dumbledore, the greatest white Wizard of the century; Regulus knew he was particularly skilled in Transfiguration.
The original works never mentioned it, but he believed Dumbledore could change the weather, the landscape, and perhaps even more.
When magic reaches that level, does it count as will rewriting reality?
And Lord Voldemort—his magic was another extreme.
Perhaps it was tearing?
The Crucio curse tears at the sensation of pain, the Avada Kedavra curse tears the connection to life, and even the Horcrux—that is tearing one's own soul.
These were things to consider when he had the ability; for now, he needed to find a way to strengthen his spirit.
He continued searching, scanning almost the entire shelf, until finally, on the very bottom corner, he found a faded pamphlet with a barely legible cover:
'Astral Meditation: Training Mental Extension Through Stargazing'
The author's signature was blurred, but there was a line of handwritten notes on the title page:
[Those who look up at the starry sky do not have their vision confined to the earth; the trajectories of the stars are the writing of the universe—imitate it, understand it, and finally, resonate with it]
Resonance again?
This was the one.
"Black?"
A lowered voice came from the adjacent shelf. Regulus looked up and saw Lily Evans standing in the aisle between two rows of bookshelves.
She was holding a stack of books, the top one being 'Analysis of the Toxicity of Common Magical Plants'.
"Miss Evans." Regulus closed the copy of 'astral meditation' and tucked it behind a thicker book.
Hide it for now, retrieve it later.
"Are you looking for information?" Lily stepped closer, her green eyes watching him curiously. "I heard... you said some very interesting things in Charms Class."
Regulus raised an eyebrow slightly. "What things?"
"About memories of Hogwarts." Lily placed the books in her arms on a nearby table and stretched her aching arms. "Someone said you told your classmates that in thirty years, what we'll miss most are the people we copied homework with."
"That reached the Gryffindor common room. A lot of people feel it doesn't sound like something a Slytherin would say."
Is that what I said? Regulus felt slightly speechless. I said other things too, but you only heard 'copying homework'.
"That sentiment doesn't need to be divided by house, and besides, I was speaking the truth.
When you think back to your primary school—I mean, Muggle primary school—what do you remember most clearly? Is it what rank you got on an exam, or is it a classmate sharing half an umbrella with you on a rainy day?"
Lily paused for a moment, then smiled. "It was the umbrella. I forgot mine in first grade, and Martha Cotton moved her big floral umbrella over. Both our shoulders got soaked, but we laughed all the way to the school gate."
"You see," Regulus nodded, a hint of a smile in his eyes as well. "magic doesn't change these things. Wizards are people too, just with added magic."
Lily looked at him, her eyes becoming lively. "You're not like the Slytherins I imagined."
Regulus looked at Lily and didn't respond to that. Instead, he asked, "Do you know why the four houses have classes together?"
Lily thought for a moment. "To... let us get to know each other?"
"Partially. A more practical reason is that after graduation, there won't be any house divisions anymore.
When you join the Ministry of Magic in the future, your colleagues might be Slytherins. If you go to St. Mungo's, the attending physician might be a Ravenclaw.
When you go shopping, the shop owner might be a Hufflepuff. If you become an Auror, the person you're arresting might be a Gryffindor.
Houses are labels from student days, not a brand for life."
Lily was silent for a few seconds, then said softly, "Thank you for telling me this. I've never thought about it that way."
"In truth, everyone is different," Regulus said seriously. "Houses are just broad categories; one shouldn't follow them blindly.
There are narrow-minded people in Ravenclaw, there are ambitious people in Hufflepuff, and in Slytherin..."
Lily finished for him: "There are also people who know how to share an umbrella?"
The corners of Regulus's mouth turned up slightly. "Perhaps."
Lily Evans was a Potions genius personally certified by Slughorn, a fact long established in the original works, with talent on par with Severus Snape's.
His own future path would inevitably require high-level Potion support. Some needs could be openly requested from Slughorn, but more secretive matters clearly required a more reliable private partner.
Slughorn was good, but he was a shrewd information hub; any request would become conversation fodder in his club.
Snape could be driven by interest, exchanging knowledge for secrets, but that relationship was built on a dangerous balance that would collapse once interests conflicted.
Snape was never exactly a 'good guy' character.
Whereas a friendship based on mutual respect was the sturdiest framework.
Furthermore, Lily Evans herself was one of the key nodes of this magical world.
In the future plot, she played a role that linked what came before with what came after.
She was a successful example of a Muggle-born in the Wizarding world, the mother of the future key figure Harry Potter, and the emotional core of many tragedies and turning points in the original story.
Establishing a friendship with her was equivalent to tying one's own thread into the fabric of this world.
When the day came in the future that he truly needed a Potion no one knew about, or an absolutely reliable helper, Regulus was almost certain she would help.