Thursday night's Astronomy class was held at the highest point of the castle, the Astronomy Tower.
By late September, the night sky over the Scottish Highlands was clear and sharp, the air cold enough to feel almost transparent.
"Tonight, we'll be learning how to identify the guiding star of the night sky, Sirius," Professor Aurora Sinistra said, her voice as soft as the night wind.
She was an older witch, her silver hair neatly pinned into a bun. Tiny constellations were embroidered along the hem of her robes, and when she moved, it was as if starlight drifted with her.
"Sirius is not only the brightest star visible at night. In magical theory, it's also seen as a symbol of guidance and loyalty. Many ancient navigation charms and long-distance communication spells rely on observations of it for alignment."
The students worked in pairs, adjusting telescopes mounted on brass stands. Regulus was paired with Alex Rosier.
Cuthbert loudly declared that he had zero interest in staring at dots of light all night, and quickly slunk off with a few other Slytherin boys to yawn in a corner.
"Start by leveling the base," Regulus said quietly, watching Alex fumble with the adjustments.
"Right. Center the bubble, then loosen the vertical lock. Aim southeast, elevation about twenty degrees."
Alex followed his instructions and peered through the eyepiece. "It's all blurry."
"You haven't adjusted the focus yet." Regulus reached out and gently turned the knob on the tube. "Slowly. Look for a very bright star with a bluish-white tint."
After a moment, Alex let out a soft gasp. "I see it! It's so bright. Like a blue-white gem. It's beautiful."
"That's Sirius." Regulus moved to the neighboring telescope.
He calibrated and focused it with practiced ease, the star snapping into clarity.
Through a magically enhanced astronomical telescope, Sirius was surrounded by an impossibly thin halo of light, pulsing faintly, almost like a slow breath.
It was something no Muggle telescope could ever reveal. There was no proof, but the magical world believed it to be the star's magical radiance.
"Well done, Mr. Rosier." Professor Sinistra drifted over. "Now record its position using the coordinate grid on your star chart. Pay attention to the ecliptic reference line."
Once she moved on, Alex lowered his voice. "How are you so good at this? You look like you've done it a hundred times."
"We have a similar telescope at home," Regulus said. The Black family did, in fact, own an antique astronomical telescope, even if he'd never used it before.
"So what's Astronomy actually good for?" Alex muttered as he clumsily wrote down the coordinates. "Besides stars being pretty…"
"It's useful in more ways than you think." Regulus kept his eye on Sirius, recalling passages from the family library.
"Many advanced potions depend on precise lunar phases and stellar positions. A lot of the key ingredients for Felix Felicis, for example, have to be harvested under specific moon phases and star alignments.
Some variants of ancient runes change in strength depending on the position of certain constellations."
He went on, "And that's not even counting old magical contracts, family rituals, or castle ward systems. Their power rises and falls with stellar cycles. Understanding the sky is, in a way, learning to read the hidden clock of the magical world."
Alex stared at him. "None of that's in the textbook."
"Because it's material for later years," Regulus said evenly, "or part of certain family traditions."
At that moment, Professor Sinistra clapped her hands to draw everyone's attention. "Now shift your telescope about fifteen degrees to the left, and lower the elevation by five degrees.
You should see three bright stars, nearly evenly spaced in a straight line. That's Orion's Belt. Record their positions and relative angles."
Regulus adjusted his telescope. When the three stars came into view, his hands stilled.
It wasn't just their beauty. It was the pattern.
Three stars. Alnitak, Alnilam, Mintaka.
In Muggle astronomy, they were simply three unrelated stars hundreds of light-years away, appearing aligned only by chance.
But through a magical telescope, Regulus saw something else.
Despite the vast distances between them, their magical radiance was not entirely separate.
Extremely fine threads of magic, thin as spider silk, flowed slowly between the three points, forming a fragile triangular structure.
He quickly recorded their coordinates on the star chart, connecting the points with dotted lines and marking the angles.
Orion's Belt was almost a perfect straight line, but not quite. There was a curvature so slight it was negligible on a cosmic scale, yet potentially critical in magical application.
Regulus could build precise geometric models of constellations in his mind. He could simulate stellar positions, even calculate trajectories.
Just now, without meaning to, he had projected their relative positions a hundred years into the future based on their current data and known proper motion.
Stars moved. Slowly, but undeniably. Each of Orion's Belt stars traveled through the galaxy along its own vector.
Was that motion itself part of their magical nature?
He made a decision on the spot. He would incorporate the true movement of constellations into his meditation, using exact calculations and spatial visualization.
Professor Sinistra's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "I see many of you have finished recording.
Remember, the value of Astronomy isn't memorizing constellation names. It's understanding the eternal rhythms within the movement of the stars.
Class dismissed."
Eternal rhythms.
The words echoed in Regulus's mind as he packed away his star chart.
Deep into the night, the dormitory was silent.
Regulus sat cross-legged inside his four-poster bed, the curtains drawn, a soundproofing charm quietly in place.
He closed his eyes and sank inward.
Magic Circulation and meditation began together.
Inside his body, magic flowed like a gentle stream along familiar paths, nourishing every inch of flesh.
This was physical tempering, the most basic foundation of all.
At the same time, at the highest level of his awareness, he constructed a model of Orion's Belt.
Using remembered astronomical data, the subtle deviations he'd observed, calculated trajectories, and the stars' own motion, he gave the three points an almost imperceptible but directional movement.
A static framework, paired with a dynamic trend.
Then he tried to align the rhythm of his internal magic circulation with the movement of those three points in his mind.
At first, it didn't work.
The flow of magic in his body was concrete and tangible, something he could feel.
The motion of the stars was abstract, nearly motionless, as if it existed in another dimension entirely.
But Regulus was patient.
He focused all his attention on that dynamic model, sensing the tension of motion that was almost nonexistent, yet undeniably real.
Gradually, he made minute adjustments to the speed of his magic circulation, subtly altering its overall cadence. Slower, more solemn and more constant.
Time passed in silence.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Then, all at once, something clicked.
Not that his magic traced constellation shapes through his body.
It was deeper than that.
The state of his internal circulation aligned with the essence of motion in the stellar model, reaching a level of harmony within his consciousness.
In that instant, two completely different improvements occurred at once.
The once gentle, nourishing flow of magic gained a heavier, denser quality.
Where it passed, it didn't just restore. It reinforced. Muscles and bone seemed to be compacted and strengthened more efficiently under that synchronized resonance.
A new sense of power rose slowly from deep within his limbs.
At the same time, maintaining the dynamic model demanded extreme mental focus. Yet the moment it truly synchronized with stellar motion, his mind felt anchored, clearer and more stable.
The everyday mental noise, the castle's constant magical whispers, even the faint sense of alienation and loneliness he carried as a reincarnator, were smoothed away by something vast and tranquil.
His soul felt as if it had found a solid base, steady and unshakable.
This was a qualitative leap.
Regulus remained in that state, carefully observing every subtle change.
Under synchronization, not only did his magic recover faster, the magic itself felt more condensed and obedient.
He realized he might have brushed against a deeper magical truth.
Body, mind, and magic had never been three separate elements. They could be unified, reinforcing one another, rising together.
He named this integrated method in his mind: Star Guided Meditation.
From now on, physical tempering and mental cultivation no longer needed to be separate practices. They became a single, complete discipline, one that sought harmony within the self.
Thus, the foundation was laid.