Chapter 51: Spatial Magic
The library was Regulus's mandatory stop before leaving school — several books needed returning.
The library was so quiet you could hear pages turning. Most students had already packed for home; only a scattered few remained, heads buried in their research.
Regulus walked slowly along the stacks when a hesitant voice came from behind.
"Regulus?"
He turned. Lily Evans stood between two rows of shelves, arms wrapped around a thick pile of books, "Advanced Potion-Making" balanced on top.
"Lily." Regulus stopped, his tone warm.
Lily stepped closer, voice edged with nerves: "I... I'd like to send you a Christmas present. Could you tell me your home address?"
"The address — may I have it?" Lily's green eyes held Regulus's grey ones, a spark of hope inside them.
Regulus paused, voice still gentle but tinged with apology: "I'm sorry, Lily. The Black family's address is bound by ancient protective magic. I can't disclose it — there's a magical binding.
And outside correspondence, especially mail sent through non-magical channels, can't reach it directly." 12 Grimmauld Place was shrouded in formidable protective enchantments.
The address itself was steeped in powerful magic, classified at the highest level of secrecy. If an outsider so much as learned it, the defensive wards would be tripped.
Moreover, Walburga loathed everything Muggle. A gift from a Muggle household wouldn't merely be destroyed — it might bring needless trouble down on Lily.
The brightness in Lily's face dimmed. She lowered her head; red hair fell forward, curtaining her eyes.
After a long pause, her voice came out subdued: "Is it because... my family is Muggle?"
"It has nothing to do with that." Regulus shook his head.
12 Grimmauld Place did have wards that screened out Muggle post, but with enough effort one could work around them. Naturally, he couldn't say so.
"The defenses trigger for any outsider who learns the address. No exceptions. Even a close relative could be cursed for careless disclosure."
"The magic automatically distinguishes non-family blood. An unauthorized parcel would be destroyed — and it could implicate the sender."
Lily nodded, quietly relieved.
This knowledge lay in her blind spot. Hogwarts classes never covered family-ward magic, address curses, or blood-verification enchantments.
These were traditions pure-blood families kept closely guarded — hidden magic flowing through ancient walls and genealogies.
The other pure-blood children she'd met never volunteered such information. They didn't explain, and they didn't feel explanation was necessary.
To them, it was common knowledge — as obvious as the sun rising in the east.
If a Muggle-born like Lily stumbled into a taboo through ignorance, that wasn't their problem. It was the Mudblood's lack of breeding.
Lily was not one to curry favor. She had simply decided Regulus was a friend worth keeping — grounded in respect and equality, which was exceptionally rare in a world riddled with blood prejudice.
As long as Regulus wasn't put off by her gift or rejecting her friendship, the address issue was nothing.
So she asked no more, only hugged her books a little tighter.
She turned to go, then stopped, looking back with a gleam of bright laughter in her green eyes: "Then... may I bring the present after the holiday?"
"Of course." Regulus nodded without hesitation. "And if you don't mind, give me your address. I have a gift for you, too."
Lily blinked in surprise, then broke into a genuine smile. "My address is 4 Privet Drive, Cokeworth."
"Happy Christmas, Lily."
"You too, Regulus."
Watching her disappear around the far end of the shelves, he let out a soft sigh.
The gulf between two worlds could never be bridged by goodwill alone — but this friendship, he would protect it well.
Early the next morning, the Hogwarts Express pulled into the platform on schedule. The place was a roar of noise — young witches and wizards swarming everywhere, laughter tangling with the hooting of owls.
Regulus carried his trunk. Hermes was staying at school; Avery and Alex fell in behind him, and the three of them followed the crowd toward the train.
Avery leaned in, voice low, undisguised schadenfreude on his face: "Lestrange didn't make it out.
Word is he was caught red-handed by Professor McGonagall yesterday — doing Dark Magic experiments in the disused classroom. Hurt himself, too. He'll be in the Hospital Wing over Christmas, then serving detention after the holiday."
Regulus raised an eyebrow but didn't probe. Rabastan's outcome had been well within his expectations; Hermes and Avery's methods might not have been elegant, but they were effective.
"Isn't that Potter?" Alex said suddenly.
Regulus followed his gaze. James Potter stood at the carriage door, laughing with Remus and Peter.
Sirius lounged by the door in faded jeans. Spotting Regulus, his grin froze, and he turned away.
Lily stood nearby, saying goodbye to a girl. Seeing Regulus, she waved, an open smile on her face. Regulus inclined his head.
The departure whistle sounded. Regulus boarded and found a window seat.
Avery and Alex sat across from him, excitedly discussing holiday plans — a new broom model in Diagon Alley, a magical-gadget shop that had just opened in Knockturn Alley.
Regulus didn't join in. He watched the landscape drift backward: fields, woodlands, farmsteads — all veiled in snow, like a motionless painting.
When the train reached King's Cross, the snowfall had thickened. Flakes landed on his shoulders and melted instantly, leaving a trace of cold.
Regulus said goodbye to Avery and Alex, then walked alone toward a quiet corner at the platform's edge.
"Young Master." Kreacher's voice materialized beside him. The house-elf wore worn linen, bowing so low his nose nearly scraped the ground.
"The Master sent Kreacher to bring you home."
Regulus nodded. "Let's go."
Kreacher raised a withered hand. A faint silver glow kindled at his fingertip.
No incantation. No wand. Not even a perceptible ripple of magic. An invisible barrier simply enclosed them both.
The surroundings began to twist and spiral. The platform's clamor was muted as if someone had hit a switch — gone in an instant.
Space was no longer an obstacle; it behaved more like a sheet of cloth that could be folded at will. They stood in the crease, and in a blink the crossing was complete.
When he opened his eyes again, they stood in the Black family's entrance hall.
Indigo ritual flames burned in the hearth. Portraits along the walls swiveled their gazes, and whispers rippled through the frames.
Regulus stood still. That split-second spatial displacement had left a vivid imprint in his mind — something fundamentally different from a wizard's Apparition.
He had read detailed accounts of Apparition in the family archives. He had also heard Orion describe the firsthand sensation.
Like being forced through a narrow rubber tube, then squeezed back out.
The caster had to lock every shred of focus on the destination; the slightest deviation risked Splinching.
The entire process was suffused with a crushing compression — as if one were violently punching through the barrier of space, forcing oneself in at one end and being extruded from the other.
It was closer to brute-force transit: fighting space itself, each jump accompanied by intense discomfort, and severely limited in range.
But Kreacher's magic was entirely different.
No compression. No brutal breakthrough. No discomfort whatsoever. It was as though space had voluntarily opened a corridor for them.
Or rather — they had simply existed at one point and then existed at another, with nothing in between.
Pure spatial displacement. No resistance to overcome. More like moving in accordance with space's own laws.
Regulus's fingertips stirred; magic flowed lightly across the surface of his skin.
He began to think. House-elves could perform complex magic without a wand, could teleport to their master's side instantaneously across vast distances.
And that movement appeared unaffected by magical barriers — even Anti-Apparition wards had no effect on it.
In the predestined timeline, the cave where he met his end was a place not even Dumbledore could Apparate into — yet Kreacher moved in and out freely.
If he could unlock the true nature of this spatial magic, he might break through the inherent framework of wizard magic — freed from the constraints of incantation, wand, and distance.
He might even escape the bonds of gravity, achieving genuinely free passage.
And that was the necessary road to the stars. To pierce the atmosphere, to explore the cosmos — spatial magic was an indispensable foundation.
Once the thought took root, it could never be ignored.