A History of Magic

"So it was from Penelope. Didn't we just talk face-to-face last night? Does she really like writing letters that much?" Ryan muttered as he opened the letter.

Then again, Percy and Penelope had constantly exchanged letters every day in the original story. For normal people, there were things that were hard to say in letters and needed to be discussed in person. But for Penelope, it was probably the other way around—things were hard to discuss face-to-face, so she wrote about them instead.

"Let me see. What is she complaining about this time? A History of Magic?" Ryan immediately perked up and hurriedly wrote a reply.

From Penelope's perspective, the problem with A History of Magic was entirely the fault of the ghost professor, Cuthbert Binns. His classes never changed; he always droned on, reading straight from the textbook.

He "spoke in a wheezing drawl," making it difficult for anyone to focus. The moment students attended his class, they quickly sank into drowsiness.

But in Ryan's view, the greater problem lay in the compilation of A History of Magic itself. He had long wanted to complain about it too, but had no one to talk to. For some reason, there was not a single magical portrait in the Smith Family home outside the bathroom. And Jack could not understand any of this. Penelope had happened to walk right into the line of fire.

A History of Magic always recorded the wrong things in detail. Take the Goblin Rebellions, for instance—it was nothing but dry dates and names.

What was the situation at the time of the rebellions? How did they rebel? How were they stopped and peace restored? What strategies were used? None of that was included.

If A History of Magic had been written like Muggle history books, then even if Binns "spoke in a wheezing drawl," it would not have been only Hermione who could withstand his hypnotic voice.

Especially when it came to biographies. There were many famous figures who should have been recorded, people whose work had been closely tied to social development at the time.

The wizarding inventor Ignatia Wildsmith, who invented Floo Powder.

Magenta Comstock, an experimental artist and enemy of a certain Smith Family patriarch, whose portraits—the predecessors of magical paintings—would move along with the viewer.

Mungo Bonham, founder of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Cliodhna, the skillful Irish druid who was the first to discover the properties of Moonpetal.

The inventions and accomplishments of these people were part of history itself. They were the ones who deserved detailed introductions and further exploration.

Instead, there was Uric, the famous eccentric wizard. Even among wizards, he counted as a bizarre fellow, known for wearing a hat made from a jellyfish.

Sadly, figures like Uric were recorded more often and in greater detail in A History of Magic. They were abrupt, dull, and hard to remember.

For some reason, Ryan felt an instinctive aversion to A History of Magic. Not to the one written by Bathilda Bagshot, of course. After all, that book had only been published by Little Red Books Publishing Company in 1947. This disgust, which seemed etched into Ryan's bloodline, had been passed down from a far more ancient age.

To be fair, Bathilda Bagshot's book had already cut down on figures like Uric the eccentric. But Ryan still could not bring himself to like it.

The Smith Family disliked crowds, avoided the spotlight, hated having portraits made of them, enjoyed alchemy, and possessed an innate Akari temperament. These traits had accompanied their magic and surname through generation after generation.

Wizarding families that had endured for too long all possessed certain traits, and were difficult to eradicate entirely.

The Ollivanders, for example, loved wands and had astonishing memories.

The Potters had messy hair, sharp perceptions, and slender builds. They had even specifically invented shampoo because of their hair, which was why Snape refused to use shampoo and had greasy hair.

The Malfoys had pale skin and golden hair generation after generation, and excelled at socializing.

The Black Family was the strangest. Though they claimed to be always pure and were the most loyal to their beliefs, each person's beliefs were like a kaleidoscope—fanatical, and mostly inconsistent with one another. As a result, the Black Family tree was pruned more often than that of any other pure-blood family. Anyone whose views did not align with the family mainstream, or whom they considered a disgrace, was removed from the family tree.

The Dumbledores were deeply beloved by phoenixes, long-lived, and skilled at Transfiguration.

The Gaunts, Voldemort's family, were stubborn and cruel as snakes. Excessive inbreeding ensured that every generation could speak Parseltongue and possessed extraordinary magical talent. But it also left them stubborn enough to keep charging into a wall without turning back, conservative, unwilling to adapt, intoxicated by their family's ancient legacy, and trapped in their own little world. The later generations did not even attend Hogwarts. Then, coupled with their extravagance and inability to manage affairs, came the last Marvolo Gaunt. His only daughter, Merope, did not choose to be with her biological brother, Morfin Gaunt. Instead, she used Love Potion to seduce Tom Riddle, the wealthy young master from the same village, and eloped with him. In the end, the Gaunt line could be said to have died out. After all, Voldemort was not worthy of being called a Gaunt in Marvolo's eyes, just as Morfin was not worthy of being Voldemort's uncle in Voldemort's eyes.

In short, magic passed down the most prominent traits of one's ancestors to their descendants, more noticeably than genes. A father and son might not necessarily share the same hair color or personality, but in the magical world, they did.

With complicated thoughts swirling in his mind, Ryan finished the letter. After having Jack deliver it, he began a new magical experiment.

When recreating Sectumsempra earlier, Ryan had miraculously reproduced the countercurse by using the Detection skill.

That regret over being separated from Harry's mother, Lily, was the best antidote to the venom on the sword that was Sectumsempra, created by Snape.

Ryan particularly wanted to know whether, if he imagined Snape in his mind while visualizing Lily's appearance, merely saying Lily's name would activate the countercurse.

Ryan had specially prepared many materials: Lily's elementary school graduation photo, photographs from her Hogwarts years, and wedding photographs. He also had recent photographs of Snape, though he truly could not find any from Snape's childhood. Obtaining those photos alone had taken Ryan considerable effort in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds.

Once he was old enough to attend Hogwarts, he could consider giving these photographs to Snape as Christmas presents.

Finally, there was the most important thing: Lily's full name. Lily Evans and Lily Potter presumably would not work. Ryan regretted that he had not spent time noticing Lily Evans's full name in his previous life. He had not even glanced at it once; otherwise, he could have simply searched his memories.

Ryan pictured James Potter in his mind. Without silently chanting an incantation—without even thinking of one—the invisible sword suddenly shot from the tip of the White Knight wand on its own. Ryan picked up White Knight as though gripping a sword hilt.

At Level 5, Sectumsempra could already manifest according to Ryan's wishes. It no longer flew from the wand tip in its original form and slashed at a designated target. Ryan aimed at the dummy before him and swung fiercely, cutting it in two.

Powerful traces of Dark magic remained along the cut. This was far stronger than when Ryan cast the spell normally. Next, he would see whether the "venom" could be undone, and which method of projection was more effective and useful.

"But this method probably never occurred to Snape himself." Ryan smiled faintly.