Chapter 38. Ravenclaw.
On the yellowed pages of "Origins of Ancient Spells," the elemental control ability of ancient wizards was mentioned, but it claimed that it was "aided by the bloodlines of magical creatures like dragons and Phoenixes, not innate."
He squatted in front of the bookshelf, his fingertips brushing over the obscure text, the sunlight dancing on the top of his hair, but it couldn't warm the chill in his heart.
"Black, be gentle! These books are older than your grandfather's grandfather!" Madam Pince's scolding voice suddenly rang out, breaking the silence of the Restricted Section.
Edward realized then that he had been turning the pages too hastily, shaking off a layer of floating dust from the spine.
He quickly nodded in apology and smoothed the pages, but his irritation grew a little more.
On the second day, he turned his attention to the genealogical records of pure-blood families.
In "Genealogical Records of Pure-Blood Families," the entry for the House of Black spanned three full pages, from the glorious deeds of their ancestors to the magical talents of their descendants, detailing everything, yet it did not mention a single word about any special bloodline related to fire, only stating that "The House of Black is adept at Legilimency and Occlumency, and are natural masters of intelligence."
He also flipped through "Secrets of the House of Malfoy" and "A Study of the Greengrass Bloodline," but they were filled with records of wealth, power, and marriage alliances, without even a shadow of elemental resonance.
While moving the bookshelf, he accidentally knocked over a stack of books, the dull thud causing Madam Pince to jump up from her chair.
"What on earth are you doing?" Her voice was as harsh as sandpaper rubbing together as she walked over and picked up the scattered books one by one.
"Books in the Restricted Section cannot be moved at will! If this continues, I will immediately revoke your access!"
Edward looked at her tense profile, whispered an apology, and silently returned the books to their places.
For the rest of the day, Madam Pince's gaze barely left him, like an invisible shackle, making him cautious even with his breathing.
On the third day, he began to flip through tomes on magical resonance and mutation.
"Principles of Magical Resonance" stated that "magic mutation often stems from external stimuli, such as curses or magical accidents."
"A Study of Non-Standard Magical Forms" recorded several cases, but they were all minor defects like "turning hair into different colors" or "spells always having the opposite effect," which bore no resemblance to the scorching, agile flame within him.
In three days, he had almost exhausted all the books mentioned in his research plan, and the stack of ancient tomes beside him was higher than his knees, but the answer he wanted was like a stone sunk to the bottom of the Black Lake - utterly gone. Nothing.
There was not a single book that recorded a spiritual flame power that could be controlled by thought alone, without spells or a wand.
There wasn't even a similar case.
The golden glow of the sunset filtered through the high windows, casting long shadows on the floor, and the light in the Restricted Section gradually dimmed.
Edward sat on the cold floor, his fingertips unconsciously tracing a page, the paper fibers scratched into a white mark by his nails.
Irritation coiled around his heart like vines, and the flame within him seemed to sense his emotions, faintly heating up.
Beneath his sleeve, a faint orange-red light flashed and then vanished.
Despondency coated his heart like a thin layer of ice.
Could it be that, as Snape and Professor McGonagall said, his power was just an immature, uncontrolled magical outburst? No. He shook his head.
That flame was too docile, too agile; it was definitely not uncontrolled magic.
It was like a partner that coexisted with him, able to perceive his emotions, follow his intent, and even actively protect him when he encountered danger - just like the two silent Finite Incantatem spells during Flying Class, which were clearly an extension of the flame magic.
Madam Pince glanced at the magical clock on the wall and coughed impatiently: "Black, today's access time is almost up. If you still can't find what you're looking for, please go back. The Restricted Section is not a place for wasting time."
Edward didn't answer, just leaned tiredly against the bookshelf, his gaze scanning the pile of books he had read at his feet.
Just then, his fingertips touched a book pressed at the very bottom.
It had no cover, the pages were tattered, and the edges were riddled with wormholes.
Only on the spine remained a line of blurred, gilded letters - "Secrets of the Obscurial." Obscurial.
This word was like a lightning bolt, splitting the fog in his mind.
He remembered when he was a child, in the old house at Grimmauld Place, the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, while he was secretly reading family tomes, lazily swirling the brandy glass in his hand and sneering: "An Obscurial? Just a bunch of cowardly little brats who don't dare face their own magic, suppressing their power inside and turning into something neither human nor ghost. The House of Black wouldn't produce such trash."
At the time, he just took it as the old man's ramblings and didn't pay any attention.
But now, this word was like a stone thrown into a lake, stirring up a thousand waves in his heart.
With trembling hands, he pulled out the tattered book and opened it cautiously.
The handwriting on the pages was blurred, and many parts were eaten by insects, but the key sentences could still be recognized.
"An Obscurial is born from the suppression of magic. Young wizards, due to fear of their own power, forcibly suppress it, leading to the distortion and mutation of magic, forming an 'Obscurus' - a cold, dark, and destructive energy entity. The Obscurus coexists with the host. Once the host loses control of their emotions, it triggers a magical outburst, often resulting in a mutual demise."
The text in the book ended there; the subsequent pages had long since disappeared, leaving only a broken corner of paper.
Edward's heart pounded, and the flame on his fingertips flared up half an inch uncontrollably, the orange-red light illuminating the words on the page.
Magical suppression... distortion and mutation... coexistence of energy entities...
These words were like keys, prying open his sealed memories.
The confusion and fear in the Muggle world during his childhood, the panic when the flame first appeared in his palm, the subconscious hiding and restraint... those details he had ignored now emerged clearly in his mind.
He didn't deliberately suppress his magic, but wasn't that fear of unknown power a kind of invisible shackle?
He suddenly remembered another book he had flipped through two days ago, a fragment signed by "Rowena Ravenclaw" - "The Elements of magic."
That book was hidden at the very top of the bookshelf; if he hadn't accidentally knocked it down while standing on his tiptoes to reach for a book, it probably never would have been discovered.
In the fragment, Lady Ravenclaw proposed the theory of the "Four Elements of magic," stating that "Earth, Wind, Water, and Fire are the cornerstones of magic, and all forms of magic are the transformation and reconstruction of the four elements. Light and darkness are merely two manifestations of elemental energy, sharing the same essence."
Light and darkness, sharing the same essence.
Edward's breathing suddenly became rapid, and excitement surged through his limbs like an electric current.