"So… you're the, uh… so-called administrator of this Magical Resonance Library?"
Julien took a cautious step closer.
After a long pause, the black cat finally spoke. Its voice was deep, lazy, and carried just a hint of a French accent—probably to match Julien's own way of talking.
"You can call me Murphy. Not the 'Murphy's Law' Murphy—though, to be fair, you do have spectacularly bad luck sometimes. I'm the curator, librarian, cataloguer, borrowing-approval officer… and the faithful chronicler of every embarrassing little secret that flickers through your mind."
"Wait—what was that last part?"
"Exactly what I said. Whenever you have a question gnawing at you, I record it and find the answer." The cat's tone stayed perfectly flat.
"Any question?" Julien asked, suddenly hesitant.
"Remember: this is the Magical Resonance Library. It exists to help you improve your magic. I have zero interest in your non-magical private life. Like your little thing with that Léa girl, or that time as a kid when you peeked at the neighbor girl taking a bath. None of that interests me in the slightest. And—"
"Stop! Stop!" Julien cut in frantically. "If you're not interested, how the hell do you know all that?"
The cat finally shut up. Julien let out a relieved breath and looked around.
"So what exactly does this place do?"
Murphy leapt lightly off the shelf and began padding along the floor, tail swaying like a metronome.
"Simple. Every time you truly understand a magical concept—whether through brains, dumb luck, or getting yelled at by a teacher—a book appears here automatically."
The cat moved with the effortless grace of a runway model.
"These books are detailed answers to the questions you actually care about. They're echoes of your magic… footprints of your growth."
"Perfect! So once I read them, I'll instantly know any spell I want?" Julien's eyes lit up. "How about we start with… I don't know… a Patronus Charm book? Every transmigrator has to master that one."
"Or maybe Occlumency first," he added quickly. "You know—every transmigrator drills that right away so the Sorting Hat doesn't spill their secrets, or some creepy old man like Dumbledore doesn't go poking around in their head."
Murphy glanced back. The amber eye flashed with clear disdain, as if to say, Please. Like you've got anything worth spying on.
"The library only records what you're actually capable of mastering. It speeds up the learning process and improves the results. Take the Levitation Charm: without the library you could still grind it out through repetition. With the book's guidance, you grasp it faster, get better control, lift heavier objects, more precision—the whole package."
"But if you just try to memorize without understanding, or expect a free ride, the pages stay blank. And…" Murphy's voice dropped lower, "the more important the secret, the harder the book is to open. Like the ones behind that door…"
Julien looked up. Sure enough, at the far end of the library stood a heavy bronze door, sealed tight.
"That's not… dark magic in there, is it?" Julien rubbed his hands together, barely containing his excitement.
"What—you think dark magic is just 'advanced' magic?"
"Then what is it?" Even though Murphy's scornful stare stung a little, Julien still bowed his head politely—when in Rome (or under someone else's roof).
"Don't get ahead of yourself. You're nowhere near ready to touch that level." Murphy flopped onto the floor and yawned dramatically.
"So… right now the shelves are empty and I just wait?"
Murphy rolled his eyes. "Fine. Most baby wizards start with Levitation anyway. Here—take a look at this one."
The moment the words left his mouth, a book materialized on the shelf behind him. The spine glowed with soft cyan light.
"Yes!" Julien snatched it down.
Why Feathers Always Want to Smack You in the Face: A Practical Guide to Wingardium Leviosa
"You're sure this is the Levitation book?"
"Positive. Absolutely. Undeniably."
And honestly? The book was insanely helpful. It didn't just list the basics—it pinpointed every common mistake, offered targeted fixes, and broke down the mental focus needed in ways no standard textbook ever would.
After that, Alphard—now convinced his grandson was some kind of magical prodigy—doubled down on the lessons.
That night in the secret chamber, a pine-log fire crackled in the hearth. Long shadows stretched across the stone walls, and the darkness beside the fireplace seemed thicker than usual—deep enough to swallow candlelight whole.
Maybe it was just Julien's imagination, but he kept thinking something was moving in that black patch. Like an enormous beast slowly turning over in its sleep.
Alphard didn't pull out any beginner spellbook this time. Instead he walked to the oak wine cabinet, pressed a hidden spot under the third drawer—click—and a concealed panel sprang open.
Inside lay a plain leather-bound notebook. No title on the cover. Just the raised Black family crest: a winged griffin-like creature with eagle head and lion body, eyes blazing as though ready to leap off the leather.
"Tonight we're not doing Hogwarts curriculum," the old man said quietly. His voice carried the weight of something long buried. "These are my own notes from when I was young and learning… certain spells. Use them as reference."
He opened the book. Yellowed pages were covered in elegant, old-fashioned English script—incantations, annotations, intricate wand-movement diagrams. Some sections were marked in red ink:
"High risk of backlash here."
"Never cast more than twice in succession."
"The first one is Shadow Deflection—Obscurum Flecto. It's classified by the Ministry as a derivative of the Unforgivable Curses. I'll demonstrate. Hold the notebook."
The instant Julien's fingers brushed the leather—
Ding!
A chime rang inside his head.
"High-concentration dark magic knowledge source detected. Generating new title: Obscurum Flecto for Beginners: How to Elegantly Reflect Curses Back at Your Enemies Without Getting Arrested by the Ministry."
In his mind's eye, the nearly empty Magical Resonance Library lit up. A single lamp flickered on. On one shelf, a brand-new book slowly materialized—jet-black cover, gold-foil title gleaming.
Julien's breath caught.
He knew exactly what dark magic meant.
Like every other transmigrator, he had zero moral qualms about it. In fact, he was secretly thrilled. The more the better. Ideally he'd unlock full-level Unforgivables right out the gate, just like in those fanfics.
How else was he supposed to solo Voldemort later? Perfectly reasonable goal for a transmigrator, right?
Alphard noticed the odd gleam in his grandson's eyes and softened his tone.
"Don't be afraid, child. Magic itself has no morality. It's the intent of the user that matters."
"I'm not scared," Julien said, eyes shining. "I just thought pure-blood families started kids on the three Unforgivables."
Alphard's mouth twitched.
"Hm. Didn't expect you to think that way."
He rubbed his temple, as though remembering his own edgy teenage phase.
"Listen, child—even without making Horcruxes, repeatedly using Unforgivable Curses scars the soul. It leaves it fractured, ugly… like a wheel of cheese riddled with maggots. Looks fine on the outside, but inside it's already rotting."
"Horcrux? What's a Horcrux? How do you make one?" Julien blurted, eyes wide with pure, innocent curiosity—and just a tiny spark of reckless fascination.