Inside the cottage, the pear cider gave off a clean, fragrant sweetness. A warm, amber glow fell over the wizard and the cat like a halo.
Helena took a sip of the crisp, sweet cider and watched in silence, listening. She thought that no moment could ever feel as peaceful as this one.
"Ancient magic—let's call it that for now.
Helena tells me you've already seen traces of it."
Ravenclaw's old book flipped shk-shk-shk, and the black cat's ears twitched uncontrollably.
"Yes, Lady Ravenclaw."
Of course the black cat had seen it.
Lily's protection over Harry—was a kind of powerful ancient magic. The Veil in the Department of Mysteries was probably ancient magic as well. And the soul relic he had mastered—including the legendary Deathly Hallows so many wizards pursued—surely belonged to the realm of ancient magic.
But… what was ancient magic, really?
"Avada Kedavra?"
The black cat thought of it for no reason at all.
"In the wild, untamed stage of magic, ancient wizards struggled to survive on the magical continent.
My heir, you should know the stories of giants running rampant, and you should know the rumors of dragons slaughtering all in their path.
Back then, magic revealed only a corner of its mystery—far from enough to keep wizards alive in that world."
As Ravenclaw spoke, she pointed a finger toward the black cat.
Scene after scene appeared in the cottage, as though a Pensieve had brought memories back to life:
Giants smashing through wizard settlements. Dragons sweeping low over hidden refuges, spewing dragonfire across the ground.
"In the most chaotic and blind of times, the greatest power is also being born."
Ravenclaw's finger shifted, and the images spun as if fast-forwarded.
A wizard climbed to a mountaintop and raised his wand—thick lightning, like a world-ending judgment, struck a roaring dragon.
Another wizard stood in the middle of a settlement, fire coiling around him, towering even higher than the giants.
"What is ancient magic? Is there a fundamental difference between it and the magic you use today?"
Ravenclaw sounded as though she were asking herself.
"I think there isn't."
Ravenclaw answered herself.
The black cat's breath caught. Its tail set the pumpkin cup down lightly, and those green eyes filled with thought.
"Then, my heir—tell me: was it ancient wizards who gave ancient magic its great power, or did ancient magic give ancient wizards their great power?"
Ravenclaw asked.
"Magic itself hasn't changed—so it was the wizards who gave ancient magic its great power.
I think that when magic was still wild and primitive, ancient wizards walked a path straight toward its source.
They explored the nature of magic, and with knowledge and wisdom they built an unbreakable faith.
And when they found rituals that truly fit—real, overwhelming power was born."
The black cat spoke faster and faster, eyes shining.
"Clever enough… And for the wizards of that age, it was either gain stronger magic or die. That was their predicament—and it was the birth of what you now call ancient magic."
Ravenclaw nodded faintly.
"But why has ancient magic vanished today?"
The black cat was confused.
"After listening to Helena, I'm certain ancient magic's decline was inevitable.
The complexity of ancient magic may simply not suit the modern world.
Since you already know where ancient magic comes from, you should also understand: ancient magic is a wizard's unwavering faith.
Only a rare few wizards pour extraordinary effort into a single field, amass enough wisdom, and build a system unique to their kind.
Such magic is destined never to be widely mastered."
Ravenclaw opened her palm.
The black cat saw wizards in the images, each pursuing different branches of magic, each carving out their own path.
"Ancient magic is dangerous. It chooses the wizard who suits it—rather than the wizard choosing it.
In different hands, its difficulty changes. Unpredictable and perilous—those have always been its names, even in the earliest centuries."
Ravenclaw finished.
And the black cat understood.
Rather than a single, definite "type" of spell, ancient magic was more like a system—a way.
To survive in a dangerous magical world, different ancient wizards walked different roads. Every road chased power and protection, and so each produced astonishing results.
Wizards pursued the knowledge to master magic—and that faith fed back into them, strengthening their magic.
So at its root, ancient magic was still the wizard.
It was the wizard who created that power.
Magic of love. Magic tied to death. Magic of time. Even Sean himself had forged spells like "Dragonwing Flare" and "Vine-Stone Guardian."
"Superior wisdom is the greatest wealth. Do you understand now, my student?"
Ravenclaw's voice was soft, like it drifted down from clouds.
And Sean finally understood: magic was a kind of bootstrap loop—
A wizard studies and gains a portion of magic; that gained magic strengthens the wizard's faith.
That strengthened faith empowers magic further; the wizard studies deeper roots, and faith strengthens again…
An endless cycle.
As for why modern wizarding magic was no longer so overwhelmingly powerful, the reason was simple:
It wasn't needed.
Wizards no longer needed that kind of power.
They had homes. They held dominion over the magical world. So they no longer needed such complex, dangerous magic.
Magic became simpler, more practical, more convenient.
"The mist is rising. Do you have any questions?"
Ravenclaw crouched down; the black cat could see her pale blue pupils.
"If you're willing to answer… I want to know how I can gain mastery over ancient magic."
In the end, the black cat asked it anyway.
Most knowledge of ancient magic had been lost. Even after reading countless books at Hogwarts, the black cat had never found a complete system.
Or rather—the entire wizarding world didn't truly understand it.
Otherwise, curse-breakers wouldn't even exist.
Curse-breaker was a dangerous, serious job—brutally challenging.
Gringotts hired curse-breakers to unravel curses in tombs and other historical ruins, and bring the treasures back to the wizarding bank.
They faced constant danger. Old jinxes, venomous hexes, and ancient curses could kill them outright.
"That brings me to the second thing I want to tell you: the continuation of knowledge is the first duty. Tell me—where should wisdom live?"
Ravenclaw's gaze rested on the black cat.
~~~
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