Not Bloodline, But Choice

"Alright, let's put this topic to rest." Alphard immediately raised his hand to stop him, as if afraid that one more word would summon a Dementor. "Let's get back to Bone Gouging... ah, no, the Shadow Deflection Charm."

With that, he placed the notebook on the table, opened it, and pointed to a page.

"A standard Shield Charm can block frontal spell attacks, but it's useless against invisible shadow curses or the soul-draining touch of Dementors. The Shadow Deflection Charm, however, can refract such dark energy back at the caster or convert it into your own defensive barrier—this is a secret art the Black Family used for self-preservation during the long dark ages."

"I've set up something in the shadows by the fireplace. You try sensing it first."

Following his grandfather's instructions, Yulian closed his eyes and tried to perceive the surrounding energy. Sure enough, beyond the crackling warmth of the fireplace, he sensed a trace of cold, flowing darkness hidden in the shadows—like a lurking snake, silent and unseen.

"I feel it. What is this?"

"This is a 'Shadow Trap.' I'll teach you about it later," Alphard said with a serious expression. "Those who fall into it often feel like they're stuck in a swamp, struggling to move; then, their bodies gradually begin to rot, and it can even be life-threatening."

After speaking, Alphard stood up, holding his yew wand, and drew a twisted crescent moon in the air. His movements were slow and precise, a faint, dark-colored halo appearing at the tip of his wand, like ink ripples under moonlight.

"When casting, speak slowly, with the emphasis on the last syllable: Obscurum Flecto!"

As his voice fell, he swung his wand towards the shadows by the fireplace. "Remember, first a swing, then a flick."

The snake-like shadow in the darkness suddenly seemed to come alive, deflecting like flowing water. It hit the wall with a soft thud and then vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed.

Yulian watched, dumbfounded. His grandfather's movements were elegant and clean—it was like the art of shadows!

"Come, you try."

Yulian took a deep breath, raised his wand, and mimicked his grandfather's movements. But due to his nervousness, his wand path was wobbly, like a drunken firefly dancing.

"Obscurum~ Flecto!" he chanted, his voice trembling.

As a result, the black snake in the shadows merely twitched slightly. Instead, this wisp of black energy floated towards him like mischievous smoke, even circling his nose playfully.

"Steady! Don't be nervous!" Alphard stepped forward just in time, blocking Yulian with his own wand. With a gentle tap, the wisp of black energy turned into smoke with a soft "poof."

"Your magic is abundant, far exceeding that of a typical child," the old man sighed. "But you're too impatient. The curses of the Black family are most susceptible to impatience. Try again. Imagine the wand in your hand is a bridge, connecting you to the shadows, not a weapon."

Yulian nodded, closed his eyes, and adjusted his breathing. This time, instead of thinking about "defeating the darkness," he tried to touch the cold energy, like feeling the wind in the vineyard, the soil after rain, or the rustling sound of Hermione turning pages.

He slowly swung his wand, drawing a standard crescent moon, and clearly chanted the incantation: "Obscurum Flecto!"

This time, a faint dark halo lit up at the tip of his wand. The shadows in front of him, as if pushed by an invisible force, parted neatly to the sides, forming a transparent energy barrier before him.

The barrier also had faint black patterns, like a spiderweb or a star chart.

"Very good!" Alphard's eyes gleamed with approval. "You have great talent, child."

As Yulian felt proud, a lazy cat's meow echoed in his mind.

"Tsk, getting cocky after just one success? The books aren't even fully stocked yet. Want me to add a chapter before this—'First Casting Failure: On Why Darkness Always Likes to Nuzzle Noses'?"

Yulian's face flushed imperceptibly, and he quickly severed his connection to the mental space.

"It's just..." he turned to his grandfather, confused. "Why is this spell considered Dark Magic? Isn't this purely a dark magic defense?"

Alphard immediately became serious again. "Remember, this spell can only be used for self-defense. If you use it to attack someone, it becomes true Dark Magic, and its effect will be like the 'Shadow Trap,' but more aggressive."

He paused, his voice lowering. "Someone in the Black family once used this type of spell to attack others, causing the victim to suffer dual burning and tearing sensations in both soul and body, no less severe than the Cruciatus Curse."

Yulian's heart skipped a beat. Wasn't this like the Warlock's 'Shadow Burn' + Priest's 'Pain Suppression' combo from the beast-taming games? No wonder the Ministry regulated it.

"In the family's history, some wizards tried to gather more dark energy, only to be consumed by it themselves and fall into the abyss," Alphard emphasized, raising his voice. "There are bloody lessons from this."

"I'll be careful, Grandpa," Yulian said solemnly.

Alphard, still uneasy, pulled Yulian closer and pointed to an ancient inscription on the wall—it was carved in Runic, and the translation read:

"What makes a man is not his bloodline, but his choices."

"This saying is not just for others, but especially for ourselves," the old man said with deep eyes. "I am teaching you these things so you have the ability to protect yourself in the darkness, not to become a part of it."

Yulian nodded heavily, as if engraving his grandfather's words into his heart.

Back in his room, he eagerly "entered" the library. Murphy was dozing among the new books. Hearing footsteps, it lazily opened its eyes.

"How was it? Feeling like you can take on Voldemort solo now?" it taunted.

"Not at all!" Yulian retorted stubbornly. "I just think... this ability is pretty cool."

Murphy rolled over, exposing its belly. "Cool? Wait until you accidentally draw the dark energy into your dreams one day and get chased by your own nightmares in the middle of the night. Then you'll know what 'cool' really means."

It suddenly sat up, its amber eyes fixed on Yulian. "However... your performance today is indeed worthy of a reward."

With that, it hooked a thin booklet from the depths of the bookshelf with its tail. The cover read: An Initial Exploration of Shadow Affinity: The Secrets of the Black Bloodline.

"What is this?" Yulian asked in surprise.

"The library unlocked this hidden chapter based on your casting data today," Murphy said mysteriously. "It seems you don't just have Black blood flowing through you, but also something... older. But don't read it now; your magic isn't strong enough yet."

It pushed the book back onto the shelf and patted it with its paw. "Go to sleep first. You still have to practice Transfiguration tomorrow—don't forget, the frog you turned the teacup into last week still had a handle."

"Can I look at this Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration first, though?"

"Greed leads to indigestion," Murphy said, walking away with a feline swagger.

Yulian smiled helplessly and turned to leave the mental space.

Outside the window, moonlight spilled onto the towers of Hogwarts, silent and gentle. And deep within the library, unseen by him, the bronze door wrapped in chains seemed to tremble slightly.