Chapter 186: Magic Bloodline
Sirius rode off on his magical motorbike, soaring into the sky without a backward glance, leaving with great flair.
His furious father cursed loudly from the window, his words harsh. "He's just like his utterly irresponsible grandfather! Does he look like someone who upholds justice? Could it be he doesn't know that riding that flying motorbike is illegal? Now he's not talking about right or wrong? Ha, how ridiculous!"
The family gathering thus ended in discord. The children dared not play anymore, behaving exceptionally well.
But they all knew how profoundly this incident had affected them.
The Black's steadfastness. The Black's inherent evil, darkness, and ill omen. The Black's continuation…
All of it slowly spread through their souls like a drop of ink.
Lockhart once again cast magic, traversing through time. Madam Mary carefully operated the Time-Turner, rapidly rewinding towards 'now,' and soon stopped again at a certain point in time.
Time didn't seem to have passed too long.
Bellatrix, who came into view, had grown a bit older, but still wore girlish clothes. However, the Black family ancestral home's drawing-room was forever missing a few figures.
Sirius's father and mother, who had been angrily cursing earlier, were now hanging on the wall, covered by a light veil, swaying with the chilly wind blowing from outside the window.
Bellatrix appeared alone here, waving her wand to light the drawing-room fireplace. A drowsy figure appeared in the chair by the fireplace, as if he had been sitting there all along.
The old man looked sadly at the portraits on the wall, then at Bellatrix. "Blacks are always like this, aren't they? Dying early."
Bellatrix pursed her lips, smoothed her skirt, and sat opposite the old man, nodding. "Yes, but perhaps the death of loved ones is also a terrible ill omen."
The old man's eyes lit up. "What an interesting notion!"
He scrutinized Bellatrix. "Child, did you come up with that yourself?"
Bellatrix shook her head, a hint of indescribable admiration appearing on her face. "It was a very, very powerful wizard. I told him about the Black family's problems, and he believes that the deaths of Blacks are not a limitation imposed by the magical bloodline on itself, but rather the influence brought by the magical bloodlines of other Blacks."
"I never realized before that one could view one's own magical bloodline in such a way," the old man exclaimed. "Blacks bringing ill omens to each other—that's why they've always had short lives throughout a thousand years of continuous lineage."
"I dare not tell my sisters about this discovery." Bellatrix looked pained. "Andromeda and Narcissa would be so sad if they knew Mother's death was because of Father and us three sisters."
"So you choose to internalize it?" The old man looked kindly at his great-granddaughter. "You are a true Black, with the pride and responsibility inherent in the Black bones."
Bellatrix forced a smile, not a happy one, looking sadly at the old man. "I like that powerful wizard. I want to marry him, but Father wants me to marry into the Lestrange family. I don't know what to do."
The old man waved his somewhat shriveled, age-spotted arm, looking more energetic than Bellatrix herself. He grinned, revealing a mouth with only two or three teeth left, and shouted, "Go bravely chase it! Love is always the most wonderful thing in magical life; it will give you the power to overcome everything!"
Bellatrix was amused by his childlike demeanor and giggled along.
But as she laughed, the sadness in her eyes remained undiluted. "But I bear the Black bloodline. I don't know if I should do this, give birth to an ominous child for him. He has a great cause to pursue, and I cannot bring the Black's ill omen upon him because of me, because of the child we might have."
The old man fell silent, his gaze distant as if looking into the far past. After a long moment, he sighed. "Yes, life is always so difficult, isn't it?"
Bellatrix didn't expect an answer from her grandfather on this matter; she already had her own answer.
She was just so unwilling.
So she came here, seeking out her grandfather, attempting to explore more information about the magical bloodline she bore, hoping perhaps Tom would have a solution!
"Because of its ominous nature, it is eternal!" the old man offered a maxim. "Our ancestors pondered this question and gave this answer."
"You need to know that death is not the end of life. When I walk towards the ominous, my life still exists, even if it exists in this ominous form of a 'castle ghost shadow'," the old man explained his understanding of this maxim. "Of course, you might not understand my state; you can consider me a dark magical creature if you wish."
He smiled, pointing to the magical portraits of his son and other Blacks on the wall. "But I am different from them."
Bellatrix softly murmured the phrase, "Death is not the end of life…"
"Yes," the old man chuckled, explaining. "How do you determine that your own life still exists?"
"How can we say that these people hanging on the wall are no longer themselves, while I am still me?"
"Immortal body? Oh, we can use resurrection spells, right, to reconstruct a body, though most people can't do that. My answer is that only an immortal soul is the continuation of life."
"All components of the soul: our memories, our thoughts, our will, our emotions…" He gestured to himself. "All of this, the me now, and the me who once had a body, are the same. So I am still me."
"To go even further."
"We often say, 'Some people have died, but they live forever in everyone's hearts.' If someone continues my memories, my thoughts, my will, my emotions, doesn't that mean my life is continuing in another way?"
Bellatrix nodded, but already felt she was struggling to understand. Such abstract concepts inherently required extremely complex and deep thought and insight. She could only try her best to remember it, intending to tell Tom.
"And even further?"
The old man raised his aged arm, sliding it as if touching the context of time. "My will and all of this, passed down through individuals, generation after generation, continuously continuing…"
Seeing his great-granddaughter looking a bit confused, he prompted, "Where does magic boil? Where does magic bloom? It is in my will, my memories, my emotions, and all of these."
"Such magic, passed down and blooming through generations, integrating into the souls of each generation, into the bloodlines of each generation…"
"It is the magical bloodline!"
"Bellatrix!" He looked seriously at the somewhat confused girl. "The glory of the Blacks exists within the magical bloodline, within your body and your soul. It has always been there. If you can make it bloom, you will possess infinite magical power to fight against your own destiny."
"The magical bloodline brings not a curse, but a test!"
"If you have the ability to bear it, you will possess it!"
"This is the meaning of the Blacks immersing themselves in the ominous, moving from being cursed to being blessed, enduring the tempering of blood and fire, enduring the exploration of wisdom, to raise the greatness that should inherently be in their bloodline."
Bellatrix couldn't achieve greatness.
She wasn't that strong; beneath her noble exterior lay a weakness. She only hoped Tom could redeem her, and she would repay him with everything she had.
Alas…
She probably wouldn't live to see Tom's redemption.
Lockhart watched all of this with a detached expression, knowing that Bellatrix had gone mad in Azkaban, doing her utmost, actively enduring Azkaban's torment, attempting to twist her own soul, either to be destroyed or to find redemption.
She had clearly grasped the ominous nature of the Blacks, but she didn't understand what "self" meant.
Lockhart knew "self."
He always had.
This was the fundamental reason why he wasn't affected by the dozen or so memories in his mind, or the original body's memories.
At this moment, his expression was somewhat peculiar, because he suddenly realized that, in a sense, he had devoured a part of the forest witch's life, which was equivalent to integrating the forest witch's magical bloodline.
Interestingly, the essence of such a bloodline wasn't necessarily the magical bloodline inherited by the forest witch's own flesh and blood body from her ancestors, but rather transmitted to him in such a peculiar way.
Oh, it seemed it wasn't just the forest witch.
There was Tom too.
With the ultimate joy and beautiful magical power, a power similar to an Obscurus, integrated into a part of himself—this was a magical bloodline that even Tom himself didn't possess.
"How interesting."
Lockhart suddenly had an epiphany. He tried shaking the wand in his hand.
In an instant, Tonks and Madam Mary suddenly felt a sense of relief, as if they had finally broken free from the wall, no longer feeling that sticky, sluggish discomfort, finally able to breathe freely.
But they still felt a bit strange, because they weren't in human form; they felt like mottled, human-shaped mold on the wall.
"The magical bloodline power of the forest witch, how interesting!" Lockhart exclaimed from the side. "Yes, this is the feeling!"
For the first time, his spellcasting went beyond the framework of the forest witch's own spellcasting, entering more completely into the state of a "forest's darling."
And this was only cast in a shallow state like "mold."
Perhaps he really needed to properly explore the field of Care of Magical Creatures!
(End of Chapter)
.....
For advanced chapters:
Get early access to 70 advanced chapters before anyone else!
Join now: Patreon com/Chaos_God