Chapter 35: A Brief History of Soul Magic
"The family is exploring some ancient topical potion formulations," Regulus replied after a moment's thought.
"Similar to ritual totems of antiquity, but the goal is something safer and more controllable. We need a potion material that can be safely applied to the skin and stably carry — then slowly release — a specific magical effect.
It involves material compatibility, magical permeability, long-term stability — a whole chain of issues."
Lily's eyes lit up. This clearly piqued her scholarly appetite.
"It sounds like extending Potions from internal use to topical application — and making it compatible with the wizard's own magic... That's fascinating!
Can I help? I mean, if you need someone to analyze formulas with, or test some basic material combinations."
She volunteered eagerly, face bright with anticipation.
Regulus studied her eyes. In them was nothing but passion for knowledge.
He nodded. "If you're interested and willing to invest the time, I do need a reliable collaborator.
Fair warning, though — this will eat up a lot of your free time, and short-term results may not be forthcoming." "That's fine!" Lily said without a beat of hesitation. "Getting to work on a project like this is a reward in itself. And besides..."
She paused, voice sincere: "Thank you for being willing to talk to me about all this — about magic, about the situation out there, and the essay method before.
It makes me feel... we're friends now, wouldn't you say? Friends are supposed to help each other."
Regulus inclined his head, tone softening a fraction. "Yes. Friends. I'm grateful for your help.
And if you ever need my perspective or assistance with magic — or anything else — please don't hesitate to ask."
Friendship was never one-sided taking or giving, but a mutual exchange and sharing of value.
Lily understood. She nodded firmly, a bright smile breaking across her face.
As they parted, Regulus told her earnestly: "What I've told you — please keep it to yourself."
Lily grasped the gravity. She nodded solemnly. "I promise!"
......
Regulus needed to prepare for tonight's plan: infiltrating the Restricted Section.
An Invisibility Cloak would be the perfect tool, but he didn't have one.
A Disillusionment Charm, then — a sound alternative.
It was advanced magic, not typically mastered by junior students.
But the Black family library contained detailed descriptions of its theory, which Regulus had long since read and committed to memory.
A Disillusionment Charm was not true invisibility; it was more akin to optical camouflage.
It demanded exceptional magical control and sustained concentration — qualities Regulus possessed in abundance.
He found an abandoned broom cupboard on the castle's seventh floor, locked the door behind him.
First attempt. He concentrated, spoke the incantation, and let magic flow toward his body's surface.
He could feel light beginning to refract, but the effect was wildly unstable — like looking through violently rippling water. His outline shimmered and flickered; concealment was out of the question.
Failure. Uneven magical output; his manipulation of light was too crude.
Second attempt. He calibrated a smoother flow, trying to coat his entire body evenly.
The result improved, but his body looked like a badly rendered chameleon patch — texture clashing with the surrounding wall. The slightest movement would blow his cover.
Still a failure. His replication of the environment's colors and textures wasn't precise enough.
Third try. Fourth try...
He adjusted continually — incantation, gestures, the minutiae of magical output — and worked on perceiving the surrounding light and shadow with greater fidelity, then mimicking them.
On the fifth attempt, he closed his eyes and directed his magic like the finest of paintbrushes, rendering a light-and-shadow pattern across his body's surface that matched the background exactly.
When he opened his eyes, the hand he raised before his face had all but vanished — only the contour remained, perfectly aligned with the brick wall behind him. As he shifted slightly, the texture shifted in perfect sync.
Success!
But as far as the Disillusionment Charm went, this level was still not enough for his standards.
Madam Pince might rely on sight alone — but what about magical detection? Or Muggle thermal imaging? Could he fool those?
A new idea: could he build an ultra-thin isolation layer around his body with magic — one that not only warped light but also shielded the body heat, scent, and even magical fluctuations he naturally emitted?
That was far harder than a standard Disillusionment Charm, requiring multi-layered, multi-property, precision magical weaving.
He tried again.
Two more failures. On the third attempt, he used the Disillusionment Charm's light-bending layer as the outer shell and wove an extremely thin lining of finer magical threads on its inside.
This lining had no offensive or defensive properties. Its sole function was to absorb and neutralize the faint thermal radiation naturally emitted by the body, along with the outermost ripples of his magic.
He felt his presence diminish further in his own magical perception. Not quite invisible, but enough to evade most standard detection.
Wizard or Muggle.
The improved Disillusionment Charm — initial version complete. He dropped the spell and caught his breath.
Late at night. The castle itself seemed to sleep.
Regulus stood once more before the library doors.
The improved Disillusionment Charm activated silently; his form melted into the dim stone of the corridor, nearly undetectable.
He glided like a bodiless shadow past slumbering portraits, avoided Filch's patrol, and at last reached the Restricted Section.
Perhaps it was his imagination, but the air here felt colder — suffused with the scent of parchment, dust, and aged enchantments.
He went straight to the position he remembered. In the farthest corner of the lowest shelf, he found the book: "A Brief History of Soul Magic."
The book was warded. Forcing it open or removing it would trigger an alarm — and might even destroy the volume.
But that posed no problem. He did not need to take it.
He extended his right hand, hovering about an inch above the spine, and closed his eyes.
His already powerful mind, further tempered through training, far exceeded the ordinary. He spread his magic outward like an invisible scanner and began to read.
He perceived every trace of magic imprinted on the pages — thoughts and knowledge infused by the author during the act of writing, fixed into parchment by enchantment.
This method of reading placed enormous strain on the mind and could not perfectly reproduce every nuance or turn of phrase. But for his present purposes, it was more than sufficient.
Obscure, profound knowledge flooded into his consciousness like a tide.
The nature of the soul and its role as the wellspring of magic...
Factors influencing soul stability...
Symptoms and consequences of soul damage...
And then the critical section: the theory of soul splitting.
His magic grew especially concentrated as it touched this passage. The book described the feasibility of this forbidden act.
Through an act of ultimate evil — through potent Dark Magic and the profoundest desecration of life and death — a complete soul could be forcibly torn, a fragment stripped away and sealed within a specific vessel.
So long as the Horcrux endured, the primary soul would not truly die even if the body perished. It would persist in some form, with the possibility of restoring a body through dark ritual.
The book issued severe warnings about the horrific consequences. A split soul would be permanently incomplete — unstable, racked with agony and twisted yearning.
The very process of creating a Horcrux inflicted irreversible corrosion on the practitioner, rendering them increasingly cold, unhinged, and devoid of humanity.
Moreover, the subtle link between a Horcrux and its parent soul could itself become a vulnerability for attack.
A chill coursed through Regulus. This confirmed just how perilous and evil the path Voldemort had chosen truly was.
But at the same time, a thought crystallized: soul stability might be the key to safely approaching — even wielding — Dark Magic.
If the soul were resilient and stable enough — a fortress — then even when channeling the corrosive energies of darkness, could the damage be withstood?
The book noted that a small number of powerful, iron-willed Dark wizards had borne out this hypothesis. They employed Dark Magic frequently yet showed no ill effects.
He thought of Dumbledore and Grindelwald. At their level, what did labels like "Dark" or "Light" even mean? They used whatever they used. Did it affect them?
It shouldn't have. The original canon never mentioned any such impact — so, by default, there was none.
Voldemort, by contrast, had split his soul too early, too often — destroying the very foundation of his own stability — and thus descended into madness and inhumanity.
Regulus skimmed through the remaining chapters quickly.
Soul attachment — this pertained to possession and curse transference.
Soul imprisonment and the origin of ghosts...
At last he stopped. Tonight's haul had far exceeded expectations.
He had not only confirmed the nature and dangers of Horcruxes, but also established the critical importance of soul stability for anyone venturing into dark territory.
And the broader knowledge of the soul had opened many new avenues of thought.