Harry Potter: Fire Lord Black

Saying this, he hurried into the storage room and soon returned holding a carved wooden box. Inside the box, lined with dark red velvet, lay a slightly aged wand. The wand body was smooth, bearing a warm luster from being handled for a long time, and a small House of Black thorn crest was engraved on the end.

Edward Black took the wand. As soon as his fingertips touched the shaft, a faint yet familiar magical fluctuation spread up his arm, instantly echoing with the "ember" fire dormant within his body. That cluster of flames, like an awakened companion, pulsed gently in his meridians, carrying a warm temperature, without a hint of violent aura.

He followed the instructions in the book, held the wand level, took a deep breath, and whispered: "Lumos."

"Lumos."

The moment the words fell, an orange flame suddenly erupted from the tip of the wand, much more vigorous than the size of a fingertip, carrying a scorching temperature, and it "whooshed" towards the pile of ancient books nearby.

"Oh! Master Edward, be careful!" Kreacher exclaimed, his withered hand flashing out like lightning, and a soft silver light streaked across. However, the moment the flame was about to touch the pages, it seemed to have intelligence, suddenly retracting back into the wand tip, leaving only a wisp of faint blue smoke, not even scorching the corners of the pages.

Edward Black raised an eyebrow, a flash of surprise crossing his eyes. He hadn't deliberately restrained it just now; the flame itself had protected these ancient books.

"Master Edward, your wand-holding posture is too stiff!" Kreacher hurried forward, carefully adjusting his fingers, his withered fingertips rough with age. "Look, the wand should be against your palm, keep your wrist level, don't use too much force, otherwise the magic will get stuck at the tip, easily causing the power of the flames to flare outward. Also, when reciting the spell, the speaking speed must be even; don't rush. The more you rush, the more likely the flame is to steal the show."

Kreacher looked at Edward Black's profile, complex emotions churning in his clouded eyes. He remembered when Sirius Black practiced Lumos as a child, dropping his wand three times and mispronouncing the spell five times before barely managing to light up a white light, nearly burning the curtains; Regulus was steady, but it still took him a whole half-day to master the knack, following the rules the entire time without any strange occurrences.

The Master Edward before him was different. The flame within him was like a natural guardian; even if it lost control, it would never harm him in the slightest.

Edward Black adjusted his posture as instructed, relaxed his wrist, and raised the wand again. This time, he restrained most of his eagerness, slowly channeling his magic, and whispered the spell: "Lumos."

A flame rose from the wand tip again, still orange-red, but much smaller than before, though it was still somewhat flickering, dimming and brightening, as if it could go out at any moment.

"Still not right." Edward Black muttered to himself, his brow furrowing tighter.

Kreacher, however, watched with bright eyes, a flash of amazement passing through his clouded gaze. "Master Edward! This is already remarkable! You must know, the flame is alive; it is following your rhythm! Don't think about suppressing it; you must learn to guide it, let it follow the instructions of the spell!"

Edward Black's eyes flickered. He had always been thinking about avoiding the interference of the flame, but he hadn't considered that this cluster of flames didn't need to be suppressed at all - it was a part of him, a power he needed to learn to use.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and felt the gentle flame within him, feeling the trajectory of its flow through his meridians. Then he slowly opened his eyes, focused his attention on the instruction to "make the wand tip light up," and whispered: "Lumos."

This time, the wand tip did not explode, nor did it flicker, but a cluster of orange-red flame the size of a fingertip rose, dancing quietly. It was warm and glowing, yet not scorching, illuminating a corner of the library so brightly that even the small print on the pages could be seen clearly.

"It's done!" Kreacher rubbed his hands excitedly, his clouded eyes full of relief, his heart surging with waves of emotion.

It took Sirius Black an hour to master Lumos, and Regulus took half an hour, but the Master Edward had only tried three times! More rarely, he was able to perfectly fuse the flame with the spell to create this non-scorching light - this was not just ordinary talent; this was clearly a rare prodigy for the House of Black! If Master Regulus could see this, he would surely be grinning from ear to ear, right? Kreacher looked at Edward Black's focused profile, thinking quietly to himself that the House of Black was finally going to produce a true great figure.

Edward Black stared at the flame at the tip of his wand, a flash of surprise in his eyes. He could clearly feel the magic flowing along the lines of the flame, without a hint of obstruction, as if it were meant to be this way from birth. He became interested and tried to recite the Alohomora spell: "Alohomora."

"Alohomora."

On the first attempt, the flame at the wand tip suddenly shot up half an inch, turning into a thin line of fire, but it hit the bookshelf lock straight on, only making the lock cylinder sizzle, while the lock remained unmoved. Yet, the line of fire, upon hitting the metal, did not bounce back to hurt him; instead, it docilely retracted back into the wand tip, as if acting coquettishly to admit its mistake.

"Master Edward, the magic output needs to be finer!" Kreacher reminded him quickly, his voice filled with irrepressible admiration. "Alohomora requires finesse, not brute force. You need to narrow the flame even more, like a needle, to drill into the lock cylinder! This flame protects you, so feel free to try without worry!"

Edward Black adjusted the rhythm of his magic output, condensing the flame into an almost invisible thin line, and recited the spell again. The line of fire gently licked the lock cylinder of the bookshelf, and with a soft "click," the lock opened. The line of fire instantly retracted back into the wand tip, still that same obedient little flame, without damaging the lock in the slightest.

He also tried the Levitation Charm, wanting to make the feather on the table float. The first time, the feather was wrapped by the flame and fell directly to the ground - but the feather was undamaged, without a single scorch mark; the second time, he followed Kreacher's advice, focusing on the instruction to "levitate," and the feather finally floated up shakily, wrapped in a faint orange-red halo, like a small cluster of flames, yet it was not ignited, slowly rotating in mid-air, revealing a strange sense of beauty.

Attempt after attempt, failure, adjustment, and trying again. Every basic spell, because of the existence of the "ember" fire within his body, turned into a form carrying flames, yet under Kreacher's guidance, it gradually became controllable. And that cluster of flames, from beginning to end, was as docile as a small beast; even if he made a mistake, it would never harm him in the slightest.

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