Ancestor Eldrin's legacy of 'Nature Magic' was directly imprinted into his consciousness.
It wasn't a list of spells, but rather the flow paths of magical power, methods for resonating with nature, and the Ancestor's insights into natural magical energy.
Natural magical energy has attributes, trajectories, and a temperament; it is a living entity.
Like wind that flows around obstacles, or water that follows channels, it requires resonance and guidance, not simple plundering.
The Ancestor's innate talent was a bridge, allowing him to directly communicate with natural magical energy and see its flow—it was his natural-born eyes.
Regulus lacked these eyes and this fortune, but he could sense the emotions and states of plants, which was another sensory system altogether.
Like a blind man feeling an elephant, he couldn't see the whole picture, but he could touch its contours.
That was enough. Eldrin's decades of experience exploring natural magical energy—which paths were viable, which were dead ends, where traps lay, and where treasures were hidden.
Now, he just needed to walk this path in his own way.
He recalled his previous experiment with daisies, guiding the magical energy from a healthy daisy to repair a damaged companion. It succeeded, but was inefficient.
Now he understood the problem. He was merely transporting magical energy, like scooping water with a bucket, whereas Eldrin's method was to dig a channel to guide the water.
However, in the wizarding world, there's no principle that allows one to soar to the heavens solely through inheritance. Otherwise, Grindelwald or Lord Voldemort could have long ago assembled an army of inheritors to sweep across the globe.
The legacy contained the Ancestor's spirit and will. It was one of the mere dozen or so legacies the Black family possessed over a millennium, each condensed from a lifetime of effort. There was no principle of easy mastery.
Regulus needed to digest it, break it down, and transform the Ancestor's insights into his own.
"Kreacher, bring a few pots of white dittany." Regulus sat at the wooden desk in the attic and called softly.
The house-elf appeared instantly, his nose almost touching the floor, cradling three pots of lush white dittany. The leaves were emerald green, thick, and edged with fine fuzz—a magical plant famed for its healing properties.
Pure-blood families often grew it in their greenhouses. It could be used in potions, and its magical energy possessed a defensive, healing quality, making it resistant to contamination by the Dark Arts.
"Young master, the white dittany was just taken from the greenhouse in the courtyard, the freshest."
Regulus nodded, gesturing for Kreacher to place the pots by the window.
Sunlight fell through the glass onto the leaves. He reached out, his palm hovering above a leaf, covering the white dittany with his magical energy.
Following the logic from the legacy, he first sensed the magical energy flow of the white dittany, moving along the leaf veins and gathering at the tips, carrying a gentle warmth.
He let his own magical energy gently sway in rhythm with the white dittany's, seeking the nodes for magical synchronization.
This step was far more precise than when guiding the daisy. The insights from the legacy allowed him to quickly locate the main channels of magical flow, avoiding the plant's defensive nodes.
A quarter of an hour passed, and he finally felt a faint trace of warmth flowing into his palm.
That magical energy carried the freshness of plants and grass, utterly different from his own—gentle yet firm.
Regulus moved his fingertip slightly, guiding that gentle magical energy to his fingertip, condensing it into a pale golden bead.
Then, on a whim, he created a shallow cut on the skin beside the bead, just enough to redden.
Regulus guided the pale golden bead to cover the wound. In an instant, the stinging sensation vanished.
Half a minute later, the reddened skin began to heal. After a minute, a scab formed. After three minutes, the scab fell off, leaving only a faint mark.
The effect was far inferior to potions brewed from white dittany juice, but the approach and process were correct. He had skipped all the steps of picking, grinding, and brewing, directly extracting the healing magical energy from the white dittany.
He compared in his mind: unlike the forced repair of a healing charm, this was more like the plant's own healing process—cell division, tissue regeneration, slow but natural.
Regulus placed his palm over the white dittany leaf again.
This time, he sped up the guiding process, splitting his own magical energy into two streams: one for synchronization, one for gentle guidance. The efficiency improved by half compared to the first attempt.
On the third attempt at guidance, Regulus clearly felt the flow of the white dittany's magical energy slowing down.
He looked up at the potted plant. The originally emerald green leaves had lost their luster, their edges beginning to wilt. The outermost leaf even showed signs of yellowing.
He immediately withdrew his magical energy, the lingering warmth still at his fingertips.
He quickly understood the reason. Magical energy was the foundation of magical plants, just as blood was to the human body. Over-extraction would only cause them to wither, or even revert to ordinary plants, losing their magical properties.
Regulus reached out and gently channeled a small amount of his own magical energy along the leaf veins, simulating the energy of natural growth.
Ten minutes later, the wilted white dittany recovered somewhat. The leaves stopped yellowing further, but the lost luster didn't fully return.
This led him to conclude that the core of Nature Magic was symbiosis, not plunder. Extraction and nourishment must be balanced.
For the rest of the day, Regulus practiced.
During that time, Orion came to the attic once, standing at the door and watching for a moment without disturbing him.
Regulus's focused demeanor reminded him of the 'dedicated ones' described in the Ancestor's notes. Only wizards who truly immersed themselves in honing their skills could go far in magic.
Regulus was unaware of his father's visit, engrossed in a new discovery: natural magical energies of different attributes could briefly coexist.
He mixed the gentle magical energy of the white dittany with the sharp magical energy of a thorn-flower in a certain ratio and guided it to a wound on his fingertip. The healing speed was faster than using either alone.
Moreover, the healed skin was smoother, leaving no faint mark.
This made him realize that the potential of Nature Magic lay not only in the application of single attributes but also in combinations of different attributes.
Then, he began combining natural magical energy with his own magic.
When casting the Shield Charm, he blended in a small amount of the cool magical energy from magical mint, allowing the defensive barrier not only to withstand spell impacts but also to alleviate the mental pressure from a shattered charm.
He also tried combining the viscous magical energy of fluxweed with Aguamenti, making the water flow not only capable of extinguishing fires but also neutralizing mild toxins.
He tested with a small amount of Venomous Tentacula juice, mixing fluxweed's magical energy into the water flow and applying it to a fingertip scratched by the plant. The swelling and itching quickly subsided, proving this combination effective.
The path of Nature Magic was viable.
Regulus stayed in his room the entire day.
Orion knew his son was practicing inherited magic and did not let anyone disturb him.
In the evening, Walburga knocked on the door.
"Regulus, it's time for dinner."
At the dinner table, Walburga first praised Regulus for his performance at the Malfoy family banquet.
"Regulus, you behaved very well at the Malfoy family banquet." She cut a piece of roast lamb chop, her tone full of pride. "Composed and proper, you brought great honor to the Black family."
Regulus lowered his head, cutting the vegetables on his plate, and did not respond.
"For the next few days, I've already made arrangements." Walburga set down her knife and fork, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
"It's the holidays now. Don't shut yourself in your room all day. Go out more, mingle with the heirs of other families.
The Malfoys, the Notts, the Yaxleys—you'll be working with them in the future."
Speaking of this, her eyes brightened. "The bonds between pure-blood families must be built from a young age. They will be each other's support in the future. This is the foundation of the Black family's glory."
Regulus put down his fork, looked up, and met his mother's gaze with calm grey eyes. "Mother, I'd rather practice magic right now."
Walburga's eyebrows raised slightly, clearly not expecting him to object.
"Practice can be done slowly. Socializing is also important." Walburga frowned. "The Black family cannot rely on magic alone to establish itself. Connections—"
"Connections are built on a foundation of power." Regulus interrupted her, his tone firm. "If I don't have sufficient power, they won't look at me with respect."
Walburga opened her mouth to retort but found no words, because Regulus was right.
"I'm eleven now. The power I've shown has already made them take notice. If I grow stronger, strong enough for them to look up to."
Regulus looked into his mother's eyes. "At that point, it won't be me who needs to maintain relationships; it will be them thinking of how to curry favor with the Black family."
"The glory of pure-bloods isn't maintained through dinner parties, but through power that others dare not underestimate. You know this too. What That Lord values has never been who knows whom, but who can provide real value."
Walburga's expression shifted, then she fell silent. What she cared about most in her life was the Black family's glory and status.
Though fanatical about pure-blood glory, she wasn't entirely without reason.
She stared at her son for a few seconds, then finally nodded. "You're right. Power is fundamental."
She changed her tone, softening. "But you can't focus only on practice. No matter how important magic is, you must also take care of your health."
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