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High at the very top of the tallest, most magically fortified tower in the castle, deep inside the sprawling, circular Headmaster's office.
The tall, incredibly upright, heavily experienced, and famously 'sweet and sour' Albus Dumbledore was currently aggressively handling the literal mountain of mind-numbing administrative school affairs stacked on his desk while happily crunching down on a massive bowl of bright yellow sherbet lemons.
...
After aggressively consuming exactly eleven sherbet lemons in a row—
Dumbledore flawlessly skimmed through the very last complex legal document in the stack, smiled a small, highly secretive smile, turned his silver-haired head, and looked directly up at a seemingly empty, gilded picture frame hanging high on the stone wall.
"Phineas. It appears your great-great-grandson—"
Before the current Headmaster could even finish his polite, political sentence, a painted face with incredibly sharp, aristocratic features—a face historically notorious for being highly difficult to approach or reason with—suddenly, violently emerged from the shadows of the empty frame.
"Which specific one is it?" Phineas Nigellus Black demanded instantly. The painted former Headmaster deliberately, aggressively made his aristocratic tone sound highly indifferent and bored, but absolutely all the other awakened Headmasters currently listening in the room could clearly hear the sharp, deep, undeniable trace of familial concern laced heavily in his painted voice.
"What exactly is entirely wrong with him now, Albus?" Phineas demanded, narrowing his painted eyes.
Instantly, the other esteemed Headmasters sleeping in the surrounding portraits also immediately pricked up their painted ears. Honestly, it was absolutely, physically hard to permanently hide any of the Castle's major political movements or minor social affairs from their massive, sprawling "portrait spy network" spread literally everywhere across the grounds. It wasn't that some of the portraits were completely, politically indifferent to the daily matters of the students, but rather, the vast majority of them were simply, incredibly bored and were absolutely always happily perched at the absolute forefront of juicy Hogwarts gossip.
"Absolutely nothing is wrong, Phineas. I am specifically referring to Regulus," Dumbledore smiled gently, his blue eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles as he lightly tapped the heavy parchment application sitting on his mahogany desk with his silver quill. "He recently submitted a highly formal, incredibly detailed legal application to officially form yet another new, massive student organization. It is colloquially called the 'Hog Party'. A staggering total of twenty-seven students currently representing an entirely even mix from all four opposing Houses have officially, enthusiastically expressed their absolute willingness to join his new syndicate."
"Ah... I see. It's Regulus." A proud, highly smug smile instantly surfaced on Phineas's painted, aristocratic lips, and all the other Headmasters in the surrounding portraits immediately exchanged highly knowing, "as entirely expected of that terrifying boy" looks with each other.
"Albus, exactly what do you think of this massive political consolidation?" a nearby portrait of a serious-looking wizard asked cautiously.
"Well, mathematically speaking, he is already the undisputed, highly influential head of two other massive student organizations," Dumbledore murmured softly. His long, crooked little finger began to silently, rhythmically tap the polished wood of the desk. "But... as I have thoroughly checked the charter, there is absolutely no specific, written school rule legally stating that a highly capable student absolutely cannot hold supreme executive positions in multiple organizations simultaneously."
"Oh, what do you really think, Phineas?" Headmistress Dilys Derwent teased loudly from her frame across the room, smiling at the Slytherin. "Are you deeply, politically worried that your brilliant little grandson will eventually be physically exhausted by running a literal shadow empire?"
"Heh," Phineas snorted loudly, aggressively stroking his painted, pointed goatee in a highly theatrical, pureblood manner. "This child... is actually very, undeniably good at politics. His only true flaw is that he simply, violently spends vastly, astronomically too much money."
His seemingly arrogant, complaining tone regarding the family finances made the other Headmasters in the portraits completely unable to help themselves, and they all chuckled softly.
For the insanely wealthy House of Black, what exactly were a few thousand Galleons burned on a party? Not to mention, Phineas also conveniently had a secondary portrait permanently hanging in the dark drawing room of 12 Grimmauld Place. Through that portrait, he had absolutely already heard the highly lucrative, aggressive details of Regulus's massive entrepreneurial cosmetic plan from Walburga. Just the sheer, terrifying raw magical talent of Regulus and Sirius alone was absolutely more than enough to make the cynical old man feel greatly, profoundly comforted in his painted old age.
His two deeply disappointing, highly fanatic grandchildren—Walburga and Orion—although completely, academically not outstanding in their youth, at the very least, they were undeniably excellent at genetically breeding highly lethal, brilliant offspring, Phineas thought proudly.
"Yes. He is very, undeniably good," Dumbledore finally nodded slightly. His bright blue gaze was surprisingly gentle, currently lacking the terrifying, paranoid sharpness it usually held when actively making highly political decisions regarding Slytherins.
Under Phineas's highly skeptical, slightly raised eyebrow gaze, the Headmaster picked up his silver quill, dipped it in ink, and decisively, legally signed the thick application with a massive, looping flourish.
"Congratulations to you, Phineas." Dumbledore closed the heavy document file with a soft snap. He looked directly up at the former Headmaster in the portrait, his lips slightly curved upwards into a genuine smile. "Your brilliant great-great-grandson... genuinely seems to be doing quite phenomenally well at Hogwarts."
Regulus, who was officially "doing phenomenally well" in the highly paranoid eyes of Headmaster Dumbledore, was currently physically draped tightly in the shimmering, mythical "Deathly Hallow" Invisibility Cloak. He was ridiculously wearing his highly tactical Muggle night-vision goggles, tightly holding his hawthorn wand in a reverse grip, and wearing specially made, highly expensive silent soft-soled dragon-hide shoes.
He was currently aggressively, flawlessly sneaking all the way back up through the dark, winding corridors of the castle, silently and smoothly returning the stolen copy of Strongly Protective Enchantments directly to its original, highly warded place in the Restricted Section without triggering a single ounce of trouble.
As for the terrifying, dark book regarding "Soul Power" that Slughorn had heavily vandalized—Regulus completely, cynically reasoned that he could very well just casually, legally come down to the Restricted Section and aggressively read the rest of the text openly during the day by obtaining a slip. Or, he could even actively, politically report the violently damaged, vandalized state of the priceless book directly to Madam Pince to cause administrative chaos.
But tonight? Tonight, the absolute, legendary, mythical Invisibility Cloak of Ignotus Peverell temporarily belonged entirely to him.
Honestly, Regulus thought, checking his corners, if it weren't mathematically certain that the magical fabric wouldn't actually visually show up in a developed photograph, I would absolutely, desperately take a highly embarrassing selfie with this legendary endgame item purely as a tourist souvenir!
...
So. With the ultimate, flawless Invisibility Cloak currently in my possession, what exactly should I do with it tonight? Regulus pondered, standing silently in a dark corridor.
He honestly had absolutely no childish interest in using it to aggressively play petty pranks on Filch, and thanks to his mastery of stealth and the Room of Requirement, he could already freely, invisibly enter and exit various highly restricted places in Hogwarts whenever he wanted—
Actually, his morbid, scientific gamer brain really desperately wanted to actively, highly illegally try to test if the mythical Invisibility Cloak could completely, physically block the lethal, instant-kill petrifying gaze of the massive Basilisk sleeping deep under the school. But given its highly inconsistent canonical ability... it completely failed to even block a simple, weak Petrificus Totalus hex cast by Draco Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express...
Or perhaps— Regulus theorized morbidly, using a supposedly flawless Invisibility Cloak explicitly designed entirely to "avoid death" to directly, aggressively confront lethal danger (colloquially known in gaming as aggressively "seeking death") would actively, violently cause the ancient magic to instantly lose its absolute protection?
In that highly logical case, besides possessing infinite physical durability and immunity to fading over time, the legendary Invisibility Cloak honestly didn't seem to have any other truly overpowered, special combat uses.
Perhaps, exactly like the highly lethal, volatile Elder Wand—only an incredibly terrifying wizard already possessing phenomenally powerful raw magic could actively unleash its full, mythical potential...
...
Finding no logical combat use for the cloak tonight, Regulus simply returned safely to the dark Slytherin dormitory. He dropped the cloak on his bed, silently grabbed his highly polished Cleansweep 1001 racing broomstick, and quietly sneaked out to the deserted, freezing Astronomical Tower.
This towering, windswept stone balcony was the exact, highly specific geographical location where he had historically "woken up" in this new universe at Hogwarts. This was the exact spot where his miraculous, overpowered transmigrator cheat had officially begun...
Now, almost all of his foundational, grinding skills were practically maxed out, but the 'system' hadn't actually given him any clear, specific main-quest instructions for the next required step in his journey.
The clear, freezing night sky, utterly full of millions of brilliant stars, was beautifully reflected on the glass-like surface of the Black Lake far below. The dark surface of the deep lake looked exactly like a massive, luxurious black velvet robe heavily sprinkled with shining diamonds. The whistling sound of the high-altitude wind was sometimes completely silent, and sometimes aggressively noisy, and occasionally a few silent, ghostly owls flew quickly by, making low, haunting calls.
Regulus leaned over the stone parapet and looked up at the boundless sky. He was actively, obsessively searching for his own specific, namesake star—xuan yuan xiv (Regulus)—the massive, brilliant main star of the constellation Leo, which was incredibly, aggressively bright tonight.
Godric! Regina!— Regulus called out with his mind.
The two apex eagles instantly heard his powerful inner call. They aggressively flew all the way across the grounds from the deep canopy of the Forbidden Forest, but because of the darkness, they couldn't physically see him. They began actively circling above the pointed roof of the Astronomical Tower in deep confusion.
I'm right here— he smoothly, telepathically explained to them in his mind. He pulled down the heavy hood of his winter cloak and waved his glowing hawthorn wand towards the sky to signal his position.
This time, we will fly the skies together— he greeted the two massive eagles with whom he deeply shared a magical connection. He then confidently mounted his polished broomstick. The highly enchanted wood of the Cleansweep vibrated with a unique, humming energy beneath him, exactly like the terrifying call of the boundless night...
Taking off violently straight from the freezing stone balcony of the Astronomical Tower, Regulus became a blur of speed. Sometimes he aggressively, vertically ascended sharply, aggressively chasing the massive eagles and the bright moon into the clouds; and sometimes he plummeted abruptly, pointing the nose straight down, deeply experiencing the sheer, intoxicating thrill of absolute weightlessness... The two massive golden eagles happily circled and flew aggressively around him in the high-speed dive, making clear, piercing cries of joy.
He pulled up, flying incredibly close to the towering, sheer high stone walls of Hogwarts, literally reaching out and gently touching the Castle's freezing, ancient bricks and stones as he blurred past. He aggressively flew right up to the high window of the Gryffindor tower, hovering in the dark, happily watching a small group of exhausted little lions from outside the thick glass as they desperately tried to light the common room fireplace...
He then violently turned the broom in a sharp arc, aggressively flying incredibly low towards the silent, glassy surface of the Black Lake. He aggressively dove down, physically dipping the toe of his leather boot directly into the freezing water, creating a long, tearing V-shaped ripple across the perfect reflection of the stars...
Passing violently through quiet, dark stone courtyards at breakneck speed. Circling aggressively around towering, ancient spires. Flying low over the wooden boathouses gently lapped by the lake waves. Skimming seamlessly over the satin-like surface of the deep lake. Violently pulling up and gently touching the wildly fluttering, colorful House flags of the empty Quidditch Pitch. Brushing directly past the terrifying, high, ancient treetops of the dark Forbidden Forest...
Regulus eventually slowed down. He closed his dark eyes, simply letting the steady, humming magic of the Cleansweep safely carry him drifting through the freezing night air.
Under the absolute, omniscient overlay of his Eagle Vision, he saw the hidden world of the grounds. He saw glowing, pure-white Unicorns resting peacefully deep in the Forbidden Forest. He saw massive, highly lethal Acromantulas laying completely quietly on their massive webs in the dark. He saw heavily armed Centaurs gathering in the moonlit clearing...
He genuinely, deeply loved this ancient Castle. He loved this clearing, this dark lake, this terrifying forest—
Even absolutely without the physical existence of a 'system' forcing him to act, he would absolutely not hesitate for a single, microscopic moment regarding his self-appointed mission.
A highly solemn, completely unbreakable vow was quietly, violently made in the freezing skies of Hogwarts tonight.
I will protect this world. And I will slaughter anyone who tries to burn it.
"Tonight's xuan yuan xiv—is incredibly, aggressively bright," In a dark, heavily shadowed part of the Forbidden Forest, the wise, ancient Centaur Ronan looked up through the canopy at the sky, his incredibly deep, black eyes perfectly reflecting the brilliant stars above.
A massive group of much younger, highly aggressive Centaurs were gathered tightly around him, all looking heavily at him with absolute reverence.
Ronan slowly raised a heavy hoof and asked into the silence, "Firenze. What exactly do you mathematically think of the alignment?"
The young, incredibly handsome Centaur Firenze frowned deeply, staring intently at the sprawling starry sky. He pondered the highly complex astrological geometry for a long moment in his brilliant mind, and carefully, softly spoke:
"The fallen, tragic star of yesteryear... will aggressively, violently light up the dark night of ultimate destiny?"
"And? Is that it?" Ronan pressed.
"That's absolutely it."
Ronan slowly, heavily shook his massive head in disappointment.
"...or he will violently, permanently fall into the absolute, crushing abyss!" Firenze aggressively added, trying to sound dramatic.
Honestly, what in Merlin's name is the absolute, logical difference between spouting this vague, highly dramatic nonsense and simply saying absolutely nothing at all? Ronan sighed heavily, cynically inwardly. He turned his gaze to another, highly aggressive young Centaur: "What exactly do you say, Bane?"
The highly impatient-faced, violent Bane was currently entirely secretly staring at a beautiful female Centaur he aggressively liked across the clearing, absolutely not wanting to be called upon for class. He scratched his dark head aggressively, pointed blindly at the twisting constellation Hydra in the dark sky, and highly tentatively, ridiculously said: "Uh... the massive throne surrounded by terrifying snakes... hmm... the Lion King sinks violently into the absolute darkness... the horrific shadow of the dead... Got it! The absolute shadow of the dead, reborn violently in the sky—the water bites, the fire aggressively burns, violently tearing the magical rift!"
Very good. Very highly rhyming— Bane thought proudly, his deep voice gradually becoming incredibly, arrogantly confident in his own complete nonsense.
"Oh... please," Ronan completely couldn't help but violently interrupt the idiot—what on earth was all this absolute, unadulterated nonsense?
Firenze, however, actually looked completely, deeply convinced by the rhyming prophecy. Nodding his head furiously, he said, "Ronan, do we absolutely need to send an envoy to aggressively tell the master of the Castle about these highly terrifying, world-ending prophecies immediately?"
"We absolutely do not politically, violently interfere in the brutal, bloody wars between the arrogant Wizards," Ronan said highly solemnly, his eyes dark. "Let them slaughter each other. They have their own supposed Seers."
After all, in the arrogant, highly segregated Wizarding World—
If the sky violently falls, Dumbledore will hold it up.