Beside that line of text, a cluster of dancing flames was drawn, the lines primitive yet vivid, and below it was marked a combination of runic characters - "Fehu - Sowilo".
Edward held his breath, checking against the dictionary, translating character by character. After a long while, he softly read out the meaning of that word, his voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor.
"Child of Flame."
The moment the words fell, the flames at his fingertips flared up violently, the orange-red light illuminating the entire library. That cluster of flames was no longer a weak spark, but had transformed into a small fireball, slowly rotating in his palm, exactly the same as the pattern on the page.
Under the candlelight, Edward watched the dancing flames in his palm, a very faint glimmer flashing in the depths of his eyes.
At the end of the mist, a glimmer of light finally seemed to shine through.
An orange-red fireball slowly rotated in his palm. The heat caressed his fingertips just right - neither scalding nor dim - like a tamed spark, quietly flowing with ancient power.
Edward stared at the line of "Fehu - Sowilo" runes on the page, his fingertips gently stroking the rough parchment, as if he could touch the pulse of ancient wizards resonating with nature through those twisted characters.
The magic of love of Lily Potter mentioned by Dumbledore in the Hogwarts headmaster's office, the bloodline secrets recorded in countless ancient books in the library, the mysterious token left by his father, Regulus... all the clues intertwined at this moment, causing his breathing to involuntarily lighten.
He held his breath and carefully turned the yellowed page. As his fingertips slid across the surface, they kicked up fine paper dust that fell onto the ink-stained desk.
The handwriting on the next page was even more scrawled than before, the ink color a bit fainter, and the corners showed signs of insect damage. It was clearly the work of the ancient author in their later years, yet every word and sentence exploded like a thunderclap in Edward's mind, shattering his long-standing confusion.
"Ancient wizards' magic is not tempered post-natally; it is born from innate resonance with the natural world. Its power is divided into four elements: fire, wind, earth, and water, each inheriting its own source and each having its own shackles."
Line by line, he deciphered the runes. The spots of light cast by the candlelight on the pages swayed gently with his breathing, illuminating the shock and determination in his eyes.
He suddenly recalled the records in "History of Modern magic" that he had flipped through in the library - modern wizards' magic is a universal power that has evolved and integrated over thousands of years.
wizards use a combination of incantations, wands, and gestures to flexibly transform their own magic into different forms. They can cast "Incendio" and release a "Freezing Spell," they can summon "Wind Blades" and control "Incarcerous," unconstrained by elemental opposition, yet they also lack a bit of the purity that comes from merging with nature.
The difference between the two was starkly presented before him, like a chasm spanning time.
Ancient magic is the ultimate purity of symbiosis with nature; it is the embodiment of the elements themselves.
Fire wizards are the messengers of flame. In their blood flows the breath of raging fire; with a wave of their hand, they can summon a prairie fire, and with a breath, they can melt iron ore. Every movement is filled with the grandeur of the power of the natural world. However, while their power is pure, it has insurmountable shackles - the opposition of the natural world; water and fire are incompatible, so fire wizards are unable to master the "Freezing Spell" in their lifetime. Wind moves and earth is still, they are irreconcilable, so fire wizards also cannot summon sandstorms.
This is the fundamental law of the elements, the innate destiny of ancient wizards, which cannot be changed by human effort.
Modern magic is a flexible power that has been artificially refined and integrated; it is the multi-faceted transformation of magical forms.
It strips away the original shackles of the elements, allowing every wizard to learn spells of different attributes, adapting to various scenarios, yet it also loses that grandeur and purity of resonating with the natural world. It is more like a "universal skill" rather than an innate "destined power."
Edward slowly opened his palm. The cluster of orange-red flame was still leaping, its light soft and warm, making his fingertips glow with a faint golden-red.
He recalled that in Potions class at Hogwarts, he could use "Aguamenti" to precisely control the amount of water in the cauldron, without the slightest error. He remembered in Flying Class, he could use "Wingardium Leviosa" to make his wand steady in his palm, and even control it to draw complex arcs in the air. He remembered when confronting Devils Snare under the trapdoor, the flames rising from his fingertips could be retracted and released at will, burning away the entangling vines without harming Harry or Ron in the slightest. He even remembered during the winter break in the courtyard of the Black family house, on a whim, he cast a "Freezing Spell," causing the withered roses to be instantly encased in thin ice, crystal clear and without any sense of stagnation. So that was it.
His fire was not an innate bloodline talent of the House of Black, not a group ability like that of Veela or Werewolves, nor was it a simple bloodline mutation, but a more ancient and pure existence - it was the power of the fire element source in ancient magic, the inheritance of ancient fire wizards.
This realization was like a beam of light piercing through dense fog, splitting the gloom that had long shrouded his heart, allowing him to finally find the source of his power and finally understand the origin of that cluster of flame.
A trace of indescribable joy slowly rose from the bottom of his heart, spreading along his bloodline to his limbs and bones, causing his tense shoulders to relax slightly and the corners of his mouth to lift uncontrollably.
So he was not a monster, not an outlier abandoned by his bloodline; he had simply inherited an ancient magical power that had been buried by time and was almost lost, serving as a special link connecting ancient and modern magic.
But this joy did not last long before it was doused with a bucket of cold water by another discovery, causing his just-relaxed brows to knit together again.
Edward looked down at the page, his eyes fixed intently on the sentence, "Fire wizards are unable to master the Freezing Spell in their lifetime, nor can they summon the powers of wind and water." Because of his emotional fluctuation, the flame at his fingertips flickered, casting the runes on the page into a flickering dance, as if silently refuting it. That's not right.
He remembered clearly every scene of casting spells of different attributes: the "Freezing Spell" could instantly condense water vapor, the "Levitation Charm" could easily control objects, the "Wind Spell" could stir up fallen leaves in the courtyard, and he could even barely cast a "Water Spell," which was diametrically opposed to the fire attribute. Although the power was not as great as fire-type spells, it was by no means to the extent of being "unable to master in a lifetime."
The fire wizards recorded in the ancient books were firmly bound by elemental opposition, condemned to accompany flame for their entire lives, unable to touch the power of other elements. Yet he had broken this fated shackle, possessing both the fire element source power of ancient magic, able to control flames at will, and perfectly mastering the universal spells of modern magic, unconstrained by elemental attributes.
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