"Alright, that topic is closed." Alphard raised his hand sharply, cutting the conversation off as if one more word might summon a Dementor. "Let's get back to the Cruci— I mean, the Shadow Deflection Curse."
He pressed the notebook down on the table and flipped it open to a specific page.
"The standard Shield Charm can block direct spell attacks, but it's useless against intangible dark curses or a Dementor's Kiss. The Shadow Deflection Curse, however, can refract that kind of dark energy back at the attacker or convert it into your own defensive barrier. This is a secret technique the Black family developed over centuries of living in dark times—just to survive."
"I've placed something in the shadows by the fireplace. Close your eyes and try to sense it first."
Julien followed his grandfather's instructions and shut his eyes. Beyond the warm crackle of the fire, he felt something cold and fluid lurking in the darkness—like a silent snake waiting to strike.
"I feel it… What is that?"
"It's a 'Shadow Trap.' I'll teach it to you later," Alphard said gravely. "Anyone caught in it feels like they're sinking into quicksand—movement becomes nearly impossible. Then the darkness starts eating away at the body. In severe cases, it can be fatal."
Alphard stood, gripping his yew wand. He traced a slow, precise twisted crescent in the air. A faint black halo shimmered at the tip, like ink rippling under moonlight.
"When casting, speak slowly. Put the stress on the final syllable: Obscurum Flecto!"
With a smooth flick and twist of his wrist, he cast the spell toward the shadowed corner. The dark, serpent-like shape in the shadow suddenly came alive, flowing like water as it was deflected. It slammed into the wall with a dull thud and vanished completely, as though it had never existed.
Julien stared in awe. His grandfather's movements were elegant and deadly precise—this was shadow artistry.
"Your turn."
Julien took a deep breath and raised his wand, trying to copy the motion. But he was too tense. His wand movements came out wobbly, like a drunk firefly doing the cha-cha.
"Obscurum… Flecto!" His voice shook.
The black serpent in the shadow only twitched slightly. Then the dark mist turned playful and drifted lazily toward him, circling his nose once before continuing on its way.
"Steady! Don't panic!" Alphard stepped in quickly. With a light tap of his own wand, the dark wisp dissolved into green smoke.
"Your magic is exceptionally strong—far more powerful than most children your age," the old man sighed. "But you're rushing. The Black family spells hate impatience. Try again. Imagine your wand as a bridge connecting you to the shadow, not a weapon."
Julien nodded and closed his eyes, steadying his breathing. This time he didn't think about "defeating" the darkness. Instead, he reached out the same way he felt the breeze through the vineyard, the damp earth after rain, or the soft rustle of pages when Hermione turned them.
He moved the wand in a clean half-moon arc and spoke clearly:
"Obscurum Flecto!"
A soft black halo bloomed at the tip of his wand. The shadows in front of him parted smoothly to both sides, forming a transparent energy barrier. Faint black patterns rippled across it like a spiderweb crossed with star charts.
"Excellent!" Alphard's eyes shone with genuine pride. "You have real talent, child."
Julien was still basking in the praise when a lazy cat's voice suddenly rang in his head.
"Tsk tsk. One successful cast and you're already strutting? The book isn't even fully shelved yet. Should I add a bonus chapter? 'First Casting Failure Report: Why Darkness Loves Rubbing Up Against Your Nose.'"
Julien's ears burned. He quickly severed the connection to his mental space.
"It's just…" he turned back to his grandfather, frowning slightly. "How can this spell be considered dark magic? It seems like pure defensive magic to me."
Alphard's expression grew serious again.
"Remember this: the spell can only be used for self-defense. If you use it to attack someone proactively, it becomes true dark magic. Its effects would be almost identical to the Shadow Trap—only far more aggressive."
He paused, voice dropping lower.
"Some members of the Black family in the past abused spells like this to attack others. The victims suffered soul-deep burning and tearing sensations—not much different from the Cruciatus Curse."
Julien felt a chill run down his spine. That's basically a Warlock's Shadow Burn + Priest's Pain Suppression combo. No wonder the Ministry keeps it on a leash.
"Throughout our family history, some wizards tried to gather even more dark energy," Alphard continued, his tone heavy with warning. "It backfired horribly and dragged them into the abyss. These lessons were written in blood."
"I'll be careful, Grandpa," Julien said solemnly.
Still not fully reassured, Alphard pulled him closer and pointed to an ancient inscription carved into the wall in old runes. The translation read:
"Blood does not make the man. Choice does."
"This isn't just something we say to outsiders," the old man said, eyes deep and solemn. "It's something we must remind ourselves of every single day. I'm teaching you these things so you have the power to protect yourself in the darkness—not so you become part of it."
Julien nodded firmly, etching his grandfather's words deep into his heart.
Later that night, back in his room, he immediately stepped into the library. Murphy was sprawled across a new pile of books, napping. At the sound of footsteps, the cat lazily cracked one eye open.
"Well? Feeling ready to solo Voldemort already?" it sneered.
"No way!" Julien protested. "I just… thought it was pretty cool."
Murphy rolled over, showing his belly. "Cool? Wait until you accidentally drag shadow energy into your dreams one night and get chased by your own nightmares. Then you'll learn what 'cool' really means."
Suddenly the cat sat up straight, its mismatched eyes locking onto Julien.
"Still… your performance today deserves a little reward."
With a flick of his tail, Murphy pulled a slim booklet from deep within the shelves. The cover read:
Preliminary Study of Shadow Affinity: The Secrets of the Black Bloodline
"What's this?" Julien asked, surprised.
"Hidden section unlocked by the library based on today's casting data," Murphy said mysteriously. "It seems the blood running through you isn't just Black blood… there's something older mixed in. But don't open it yet. Your magic isn't strong enough."
He shoved the book back onto the shelf and patted it with a paw. "Go to sleep. Tomorrow we're working on Transfiguration again—don't forget that teacup you turned into a frog last week still had a handle."
"Can I at least look at Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration first?"
"Greed leads to indigestion," Murphy replied, sauntering away with his signature cat strut.
Julien gave a helpless smile and left his mental space.
Outside the window, moonlight bathed the towers of Hogwarts in silver—quiet and gentle.
Deep within the library where he couldn't see, the heavy bronze door wrapped in chains trembled ever so slightly.