Magic Diary

"How could you think that? I am a magnificent lamp, a future King of Lamps! I wouldn't waste my time on some lady-lamp!"

Faner seemed insulted, glaring with aggrieved eyes before slowly pulling open the wooden drawer and pushing all the coins inside.

"Hmph, don't you even dream of getting a single penny from me!"

Brie ignored Faner. He was no petty thief; to him, knowledge was the most valuable thing here. Slowly, Brie immersed himself in the notebook once more.

As he flipped through the pages, Brie felt increasingly strange. Most of the entries were aggressive, instantaneous combat spells. It seemed the author had faced constant danger even while studying, forcing him to master self-defense to confront powerful enemies at any moment.

"The Blasting Curse?" Brie had this spell in his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, but it wasn't nearly as detailed as this.

Brie had tried this spell before, but he could never grasp the essence of it, and the casting felt awkward. If he hadn't been cautious and kept his magical output low, he likely would have injured himself. Consequently, Brie hadn't delved deeply into these offensive spells, intending to wait for the Hogwarts professors to teach them.

He figured that was the professor's job, and Brie hoped the Defense Against the Dark Arts class next Monday morning would help him. However, he now had an alternative tutor.

"Perhaps I can try it, as long as I keep the magical output low. The Blasting Curse in this notebook seems more comprehensive and, with certain techniques, even more powerful."

But not here. With so many books around, Brie wasn't a fool; these books were all his!

"Hmm, what is this?" Brie turned another page. There was a notch on this one, and with Brie's keen perception, he could detect the flow of magic upon it. The anomaly he had felt earlier came from here.

"Could this book be an alchemical product?"

Brie could see a very simple magical trajectory—the hallmark of an alchemical item. But what was the purpose of this book?

Brie curiously held the spine, shook it, and then flipped through it rapidly...

"So many?" Brie had thought this thin notebook didn't contain much, but he realized his narrow-mindedness.

"It turns out a small device was set up, somewhat like an Undetectable Extension Charm cast within a small space. But here, the target is the pages of text. An interesting little thing. Perhaps I should make one too. It shouldn't be difficult; I just need to... well, I need to learn the Undetectable Extension Charm first, and it can't be too superficial."

He flipped through the book haphazardly, though he couldn't start by looking at the titles. Soon, he found the source of this book—the Undetectable Extension Charm.

That made things much easier.

"Are you trying to make an alchemical notebook? Perhaps you should also look at that thick book on your left, the first alchemical log written by that guy. It seems he wrote the detailed manufacturing method inside."

While Brie was still researching, Faner had climbed down and proudly tilted his head to gesture toward a thick book beside Brie. It showed no signs of magical flow, and judging by its thickness, it looked like an ordinary book.

"That guy's notes were very peculiar. Actually, only this notebook used that kind of magic, because only text infused with one's own magic can be written into the book. The alchemical books he collected were normal. This notebook was very expensive to make; back then, he spent dozens of Galleons just to gather the materials, and Time Powder was especially precious. Of course, I don't know about now."

"Hmph, don't you dare come crying to me for money..." With that, Faner arched his body and crawled back onto the bronze lamp on the table.

"Indeed... it does look quite expensive." Brie picked up the book as Faner instructed and quickly found the manufacturing method for the alchemical notebook. Among the materials, some of which Brie recognized, the hide of magical creatures and the Time Powder were quite valuable. There was also some Mithril, a necessity for alchemy, which gave Brie a headache.

Of course, the main issue was the core material Brie didn't recognize—Trance Grass. Perhaps he would have to ask Professor Sprout.

Naturally, besides the notebook, the essential magic-infused quill also required some rather pricey materials. Brie estimated that making an alchemical notebook would cost him around a hundred Galleons—assuming, of course, that he had to buy everything.

"Time Powder isn't particularly scarce right now, and I can afford the rest of the materials. But I should see how many materials I can gather for free first. There's no rush."

The reason Brie wanted to make such a flashy, impractical notebook was because the alchemical log mentioned the benefits and future potential of such a device—

Only the owner could see the magical text, or those the owner permitted. The owner could locate the notebook at any time, and with more complex alchemical techniques, it could even be crafted into a Portkey, using spells as a hub for teleportation.

Of course, adding complex alchemy was the author's vision, as he hadn't yet gathered an essential material: the hide of a magical creature capable of supporting multiple complex spells and spatial-temporal forces. But it was a goal to strive for, wasn't it?

"Money is only money once it's spent."

Closing the alchemical log, Brie picked up the notebook that had lost its ability to be written in since its owner's death. Brie fell back into his studies. Brie only cared about things he could accomplish; things he couldn't do were mere fantasies and a waste of time.

And just as Brie was studying intently, in the Slytherin common room, some people were not happy.

"That kid is truly unique." An upperclassman sat on the sofa, hooking a wine glass with slender fingers, and said slowly, "You can't drink yet, little one."

The male prefect said it casually and began to maintain order, stopping a little snake who wanted to sneak a drink. After all, no matter how relaxed the Slytherins were about this small party, they wouldn't let a 12-year-old second-year drink alcohol.

"Breeze Order, I remember him. A very cute child." A 15-year-old girl, dressed exquisitely, raised her eyebrows with a hint of charm and smiled, but she had no intention of letting Brie off the hook. She had other ideas in mind.

"Focus your attention on your upcoming Ordinary Wizarding Level exams, Miss Enid. He might not be able to handle your antics."

"Uh-huh, alright, alright, you jealous sixth-year prefect. Perhaps I should find some time to comfort you. Did you miss me?"

"Cough, cough, cough." The sixth-year male prefect stopped talking, his eyes drifting as he took a sip of wine.

"Hehehe..."

While the upperclassmen were still discussing Brie and other interesting tidbits with ease, the lowerclassmen were already starting to be snide.

"I heard a conceited guy appeared in the first year." The second-year prefect was very unhappy, even a bit angry. After all, this small party was organized by the lower years, and the upperclassmen were only attending as a favor. Brie's absence was a complete slap in their faces. So, when the leaders of the first to fourth years heard the conversation from the upperclassmen, they felt as if they had swallowed a fly, forced to maintain superficial etiquette.

"Just because he received praise in a few classes, he completely disregards Slytherin's rules. Very well, when he returns, we should teach him a lesson."

"Isn't it bad to make too much of a scene?"

"Shut up! What are you worried about? He's just a Muggle-born!"

The discussion here was heated, while Malfoy drank his green apple juice silently, chatting intermittently with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass.

"Malfoy, you're the leader of the first years. Don't you have anything to say?" The second-year prefect walked over and said to Malfoy, "I don't think Mr. Malfoy would let such a foolish person exist either."

Malfoy looked up and smiled lightly. "Oh, who might this be? It's the second-year prefect, Arnold Flint. Perhaps you've forgotten, there is no such thing as a head of the first year." Malfoy wouldn't be naive enough to take the bait, especially since this Arnold Flint was merely a collateral branch of the Flint family. His main family didn't have much face in front of the Malfoy family, let alone him.

Regarding Brie, Malfoy was always uncertain, especially those eyes that could turn red, which made Malfoy very uneasy. He couldn't forget the incident in Diagon Alley. Perhaps Brie was just teasing him then, but if that was the case, what would happen if Brie were truly provoked?

The Malfoy family was never steadfast; they could always find a path that benefited them, even when stuck in the mud.

"But you are a Malfoy, and a first-year..."

"Shut your mouth, Flint!" Before Malfoy could speak, Pansy Parkinson, who was standing to the side, noticed Malfoy's disdain and lack of interest, so she cut off Flint's pestering interrogation.

"Who do you think you are? You should know that this is Slytherin, where status and strength are equal. Just because you entered the school a year earlier doesn't mean you can boss our Draco around like some kind of idiot."

Parkinson remained sharp-tongued and incredibly arrogant, as she seemed to be with everyone except Malfoy. As she spoke, Flint's face turned a dark, flushed red, but he couldn't refute her. He couldn't afford to offend the Parkinson family, let alone Malfoy, so he could only retreat in frustration, though the fire in his eyes burned even brighter.

Damn brat, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have fallen out with Malfoy!

Well, this idiot had already shifted his rage toward Breeze Order.

At this moment, Brie's roommate, Blaise Zabini, said coldly, "Breeze Order was just ill; he left the dormitory very early..."

"Don't make excuses for him. Slytherin only cares about results; even if he were dying, he would still have to show respect to Slytherin!"

Heh, Malfoy laughed from the side, and Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass also let out a scoff.