Chapter 66: True Desires, the Starling
The silver white light snapped inward, compressing into a blurred orb. Then it stretched, lengthened, and unfolded as if something inside it had decided on a shape.
Wings spilled out from either side. Every feather was made of silver light, the edges glittering like starlight. The body refined itself into a sleek, powerful line. Its head lifted. A sharp beak formed. Its eyes became two points of brighter silver.
Finally, the tail fanned behind it, streaming like a comet's trail.
A silver white bird hovered in front of Regulus.
It was larger than a typical owl, somewhere between a hawk and a kite. Its wings were formed from countless tiny fragments of light, each shard flickering like a star whenever the air shifted. The tips of its feathers were a pure, clean silver, catching the dying sunlight and throwing back a faint halo that looked almost like a rainbow.
Its eyes were a brilliant silver grey, so similar to Regulus's own that the resemblance made his breath catch. The gaze was sharp, but there was depth in it too, something that felt older than instinct.
It spread its wings and held itself steady without flapping. It did not fight gravity so much as ignore it, as if the rules simply did not apply.
Fine stardust sifted from the edges of its wings. Where that dust touched the ground, the shadows within a few metres softened, as if darkness itself had been thinned and driven back.
Regulus stared at it, and a strange sensation rose in his chest, like looking into a mirror that did not reflect his face but something beneath it.
This was not something he had manufactured. It was not a product of technique alone.
This had grown out of his heart.
A Patronus was a manifestation of the truest desires within a person, a projection of a part of the soul.
So what did he desire?
Regulus asked himself the question with the same calm he used for spells and strategies, but the answer was not calm at all.
He desired freedom, but not the crude kind that meant indulgence and lawlessness. He wanted the freedom to choose his own path, without shackles hidden behind tradition and duty.
He desired the boundless starry sky. He wanted to break past physical limits and reach places others insisted were impossible.
He desired power, not for applause, but to protect what he wanted to protect, to achieve what he wanted to achieve, to become who he wanted to be.
Those desires had condensed into this silver bird.
The way it held its wings carried a determination to break through obstacles. The way it hovered held the meaning of unconstrained freedom. The starlight in its eyes was a yearning for a world too vast to fit inside any house, any surname, any set of expectations.
It was Regulus.
Or rather, it was the truest and purest part of him.
He did not know what kind of Patronus it was. He had never seen a bird like this, and he could not recall anything similar in books.
But he could feel it, unmistakably.
It was perfectly in sync with him.
Three paces away, Orion was completely still.
He stared at the silver bird as if he did not trust his own eyes. His eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted, and his wand nearly slipped from his hand. The head of the House of Black, who could remain composed in the middle of a Wizengamot storm, looked as if the world had turned upside down.
It took him several seconds to find his voice. When he did, it trembled.
"A Starling."
Regulus turned his head.
"What?"
"A Starling," Orion repeated, still staring. "A legendary magical creature. I thought they were extinct. Or that they never existed at all."
He took two careful steps forward, wanting to see it more clearly, but hesitant, as if he feared the slightest wrong movement would scatter it into nothing.
The Starling tilted its head. Its silver grey eyes rested on Orion, calm and unreadable. It was not hostile. It was not friendly either. It simply observed.
"There are only scattered records," Orion said, his words quickening even as his control returned. "They appear only where magic is pure. They feed on starlight, and they can pierce through space. They do not fly by force. They let space carry them."
Regulus felt the description settle into him like a key sliding into a lock.
Feeding on starlight, just as he practised Starry Sky Meditation, guiding himself toward the stars and yearning for them.
Piercing through space, just as he had begun to study spatial magic, trying to understand folding and warping.
Flying without flapping wings, because what he pursued was never brute force. It was understanding rules, following them, then using them.
Orion's voice went on.
"Their feathers can dispel Dark magic," he said. "And their eyes can see through illusions."
With every sentence, the sense of recognition in Regulus deepened.
Dispelling darkness, because he had always believed power itself was not good or evil. The difference lay in how it was used, and why.
Seeing through illusions, because he had lived his entire life doing exactly that. Looking past appearances, past false glory, past intimidation.
This felt like an animal shaped reflection of him. Not a copy, but a manifestation, something drawn out of his inner self and given form by magic.
As Orion spoke, Regulus felt a spark of inspiration.
He wanted to test it.
A thought flashed through his mind.
Go over there and take a look.
The Starling seemed to understand him without a word.
Its form flickered and vanished.
Regulus could not even sense where it had gone. The ripple in space was so slight, so natural, it left almost no trace.
Then, in the next moment, the Starling appeared in the air above the sea, a hundred metres away.
It hovered there with the sun sinking behind it, silver white against a horizon of gold, its outline sharp and unreal.
It disappeared again.
It reappeared at the far end of the cliff, standing on a jut of rock, looking down at the waves as they shattered against stone.
Regulus's heart stirred.
Come back.
The Starling was instantly in front of him, as if it had never left.
It lifted its head and met his gaze.
There was a depth in those silver grey eyes that felt almost intelligent, as if it truly understood him, as if it truly was one with his mind.
Orion's breathing quickened.
He tried to keep his face calm, but his fingers trembled slightly around his wand, and colour rose in his cheeks. The man who could withstand pressure without blinking looked, for the first time in Regulus's memory, like someone who had just witnessed magic for the first time.
"Dumbledore," Orion murmured. "Dumbledore's Patronus is a phoenix."
Regulus looked at him.
"The phoenix is a legendary creature," Orion continued, excitement forcing its way into his voice. "It is reborn from ashes. Its tears can heal. Its song can give courage. Dumbledore's Patronus is a phoenix, and people say it foretold he would become a great wizard."
He looked back at the Starling, then at Regulus, his eyes bright with something Regulus had never seen in him.
"The Starling," Orion said, reverent now, "is said to be on the same level as the phoenix. Perhaps rarer. People have seen a phoenix. The Starling exists only in the oldest records."
He stopped, unable to finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear enough.
Regulus would become great. Not great in the way Walburga imagined, draped in titles and praised at dinners. Great in the true sense, the sort that left a mark in History of Magic.
Orion's mind even leapt ahead, racing. When Regulus stood at the forefront one day, when the world was forced to acknowledge him, should the Black family crest be changed? The twin stars and Sirius carried ancient meaning, but perhaps it was too ordinary for what Regulus might become.
A Starling would suit.
The thought was fleeting. It was far too early. But Orion could not help it.
Regulus listened, thoughtful rather than swept away.
The Starling could pierce space. If Orion's description was true, it might even possess a natural mastery of spatial magic beyond anything a wizard could easily replicate.
But Regulus had only just summoned a corporeal Patronus. He could maintain it, and he could communicate with it in simple ways. That was all.
There were advanced applications of the Patronus Charm. A Patronus could deliver messages, repel Dementors, scout paths, and assist in combat. Every use required practice.
And if the Starling truly had spatial traits, then perhaps there were even more specialised uses to explore.
He could use it to practise spatial magic, watching how it moved, learning from the way it crossed distance without effort. He could use it to gather intelligence by slipping through barriers. In battle, it might appear behind an enemy without warning.
Perhaps, if the right opportunity presented itself, he could speak to Dumbledore.
When it came to Patronuses, Dumbledore stood near the pinnacle. He must have developed methods and techniques shaped by the phoenix's nature.
But an opportunity mattered. Regulus was not Harry Potter. He was not naturally likeable, and he did not have the luxury of walking into a professor's office as if the world owed him guidance.
Still, opportunities existed.
Orion took several deep breaths and forced himself to calm down.
Excitement was one thing. Reality was another.
He stepped beside Regulus, studied the Starling as it hovered, and spoke quietly.
"This Patronus should be hidden. For two years, at least."
Regulus looked at him, already understanding most of the reasoning, but he waited.
"The Patronus Charm is advanced light magic," Orion said. "A truly positive form of it. If you show it now, it will not align with the image expected on Voldemort's side."
He did not say the words like accusation. He said them like a fact.
"They will not speak of it openly," Orion continued, "but they will think. A Black who can cast a Patronus is not one of them."
Regulus nodded.
All beautiful things were incompatible with Voldemort.
What Voldemort and his followers praised was power, dominion, and fear. The Patronus Charm represented protection, hope, and the strength of positive emotion.
The two stood in ideological conflict.
And Regulus still needed to walk within that sphere, for now.
He could not afford to reveal that incompatibility too early.