Damian returned. This time, there was none of the agonizing discomfort from his initial crossing.
The crystal on the metal disc had dimmed significantly, its stored energy completely exhausted. Damian had chosen to travel back to his original world before ever reaching White Stone Town.
His initial trip had been an accident. He had only brought his wand, so he intended to make proper preparations before formally making contact with human society in the other world.
He waved his wand, untransfiguring his thick cloak and winter clothes back to their original state. He had also brought back the snow-packed bundle containing the corpse of the Phantom Demon.
Nox was still sitting in his exact original spot, staring at the empty space where Damian had just been.
"Hey, Nox." Damian picked up the Kneazle and stroked his black fur.
A subtle magic rippled in Damian's eyes as he gently used Legilimency on the cat.
Through Nox's memories, he watched the exact moment of his departure. One second, his past self was standing there holding the glowing metal disc. In the blink of an eye, bathed in a sudden flash of crimson light, he vanished completely into thin air. Nox had barely even twitched his whiskers in surprise before Damian reappeared in the exact same spot, now carrying a snow-packed bundle.
Damian blinked, breaking the mental connection. It seemed that while he had spent hours fighting for his life in the other world, time in his original world had barely moved forward at all!
Setting Nox down, Damian pulled out the battered wizard's notebook Chris had given him. It recorded a spell based purely on Ancient Runes called "Lightning Bolt."
The spell shot a concentrated beam of lightning at a target, its raw power scaling directly with the user's magical reserves.
The magic of the other world was fundamentally different from the magic he learned at Hogwarts. Hogwarts magic relied on emotion, willpower, and incantations to shape spells. A lack of firm belief could easily cause a spell to fizzle and fail entirely.
In contrast, the other world's magic required the caster to first mentally construct a precise "spell model." Then, they had to inject raw magic into it, using the model to release the energy in a specific physical form.
The basic building blocks for these spell models were Ancient Runes, physically condensed out of raw magic!
The spell model was like an engine, the Ancient Runes were the mechanical parts, and magic was the gasoline. Through the engine's mechanics, the magic was converted into lethal energy. This was the core principle of Runic Magic.
Damian extended his right hand, concentrating his magic into his palm. Slowly, he forced the energy to condense into the Ancient Rune for Light.
The glowing rune hovered over his palm like a pure, crystal-clear pearl, emitting a soft radiance.
Damian frowned and cut the flow of magic. The rune instantly vanished.
It had taken him a dozen seconds just to condense that single rune. Even with practice, he might only shorten the process to ten seconds. However, the "Lightning Bolt" spell model required simultaneously condensing thirty-two distinct Runic Scripts.
To cast a single Runic spell, meticulously forming the runes would take several minutes—if not longer. It was absurdly impractical for real combat.
There has to be a way to speed up the condensation process, he thought.
Flipping past the "Lightning Bolt" section, Damian's expression shifted. The handwriting on the very last page of the notebook was heavily blurred by age and water damage.
He drew his wand and tapped the parchment. "Reparo!"
Like a film rewinding, the faded ink bled back into crisp, legible lines. It revealed a single, cryptic sentence:
—I walked in the dim woodland, heard the sound of drums, and saw the panel of shadows.
"Panel of shadows?" Damian frowned. The sentence was inexplicable; he couldn't glean any useful information from it.
Setting the mystery aside, he pocketed the notebook, left the storeroom, and walked to his grandfather's study.
He pushed the door open. "Good afternoon, Grandfather."
"Damian, it is nap time," a lazy voice drawled from a large portrait on the wall.
Inside the gilded frame sat a gentle, refined old man. This was the magical portrait of Damian's grandfather, Alphard Black.
Although Alphard had passed away before Damian was born, the boy's entire early magical education had been guided by this portrait. Before his death, Alphard had painstakingly synchronized his vast intellect and memories into the canvas.
Damian had learned Ancient Runes directly from him; Alphard Black had been a renowned runic scholar during his lifetime.
In this life, Damian's father had been an Auror and his mother a Muggle. Both had died at the hands of Death Eaters—specifically, murdered by Damian's own aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange.
"I don't recall you ever having a habit of taking naps," Damian retorted lightly.
In the painting, Alphard reached into the painted wine cabinet behind him and withdrew a bottle of red. "I did when I was alive, dear boy."
"Is Grandmother out again?" Damian asked, noticing her empty frame.
Alphard popped the cork, brought the bottle to his nose, and wafted the aroma. "You know Lina. She loves to visit. She has portraits hanging in half the manors in Britain."
Damian nodded in understanding. "Grandfather, I want to show you something."
He extended his right hand and willed his magic into the physical shape of a glowing rune.
Alphard swirled the ruby liquid in his glass, looking unimpressed. "As for the magical application of Ancient Runes, I believe I explained that in exhausting detail during our lessons on the Collection of Magic Symbols."
"Of course I read it," Damian replied. "But I recently discovered that runic script has much deeper, physical applications."
Concentrating, Damian meticulously condensed all thirty-two scripts for the "Lightning Bolt" model in his palm. He carefully used his magic to weave them into the specific engine-like structure.
Crack! A blinding light erupted. The runic matrix converted his magic into a vicious beam of lightning, shooting forward and instantly blasting a neat hole right through the wooden study wall.
Damian casually waved his wand, restoring the scorched wood to its original state.
"Was that... magic formed by combining Ancient Runes?" Alphard's painted face was entirely slack with shock.
He knew there was a theoretical connection between runic script and ancient magic. Yet, despite dedicating his life to the study, he had only ever seen vague references in crumbling tomes. He never expected his fourteen-year-old grandson to casually master a working Runic spell.
After Damian thoroughly explained the "engine and fuel" principle of Runic Magic, Alphard stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"No wonder it took you several minutes to cast. I initially thought it was mere lack of proficiency. But listening to your theory, it seems Runic Magic is missing a crucial component to speed up the process."
Damian sighed helplessly. "Exactly. Manually condensing the scripts takes far too long for practical use."
Alphard suddenly paused, his eyes lighting up. He took a slow sip of wine, looking uncertain. "I once saw a marginal note on a manuscript belonging to Salazar Slytherin. It read: 'Meditation is the key to Runic Script.'"
Damian blinked in surprise. "Meditation? That's the key?"
"I haven't the faintest clue," Alphard admitted. "That manuscript only recorded definitions of ancient characters. I merely cited some of its contents when compiling my own phonetic tables."
He pointed a painted finger at Damian. "The original manuscript should still be stored in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library. Perhaps you can look for it when you return to school."
Damian nodded, mentally filing the task away.
At that exact moment, an ethereal, melodic voice drifted in from outside the window.
"Damian~ are you up there?"
Damian walked over and leaned out the window. Down on the lawn, a girl with dirty-blonde hair was waving up at him brightly.
"Luna! Wait just a moment!" Damian called back.
Turning around, he saw Alphard winking at him over his wine glass. "Keeping a young lady waiting is hardly the behavior of a gentleman."
Damian rolled his eyes. "Grandfather, we're literally children!"
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