Ancient Magical Script and... the Origin of Magic?

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Darcie had never expected that these three words would ignite such a reaction in Mr. Ollivander.

Who was Garrick Ollivander?

None in the magical community could claim to be above him in Wandlore. Even in magical prowess, this old man was not someone to be messed with. If it weren't for the likes of Dumbledore and the other monstrous existences, Mr. Ollivander would have stood at the top of the magical community. He certainly had the qualifications for it. Not to mention, he was old and alone and minded nothing other than his own business.

No wonder people often ignored the grandeur of this legendary wizard and brilliant researcher.

For him to tremble at the mention of the mere three words almost disturbed Darcie.

"Have I said something wrong, Mr. Ollivander?" Darcie asked innocently, her eyes calm and curious.

The old wandmaker came to his senses and hastily ordered the tumbling chess pieces to return to their positions. The pawns cursed the old man and slid back to their squares, the black and white pieces rubbing shoulders, eying each other with great animosity.

"Haha!" the wandmaker laughed ruefully. "You must have read it wrong, Darcie," he told her. "There's no such thing."

Darcie regarded the old man with an odd gaze. There weren't many times when Mr. Ollivander called her by her name. But whenever she brought up her intense desire of learning Wandlore, such times did occur, showing the old man was struggling now as much as in those times.

"If it's a taboo, then I won't trouble you, Mr. Ollivander," Darcie said, her voice lacking any sadness. She pointed a finger at the chessboard, her eyes narrowed, and in the next moment, the black pieces lost the angry expressions on their faces, returning to their positions.

Mr. Ollivander's eyes widened at this sight. This wasn't as simple as non-verbal Wandless Magic. Darcie had just tempered with the already infused magic, restructuring it minutely to have her way with it. One should know that it wasn't a simple task. Not at all.

These pieces of chess and the very chessboard were given to Darcie for try-out purposes. They were infused with anti-cheat Charms and rules. It was Darcie's job to find out the loopholes within those rules, if possible.

No one in their dreams would have thought she could manipulate the already laid Charms. However small the trick she had showcased, it was too stupendous to ignore.

The greater the achievements of a wizard, the better one would understand what had just happened.

Just by happenstance, there was such a wizard sitting in front of her.

Mr. Ollivander stupidly looked up at Darcie's face and saw no hint of pride or arrogance in her eyes. His lips became dry.

The old wandmaker sighed profoundly. "Where did you hear of it, young lady?" he asked gently.

Darcie showed surprise at hearing Mr. Ollivander ask this question. Never had the old man brought up a dropped request again by himself. Would she dare lie to this wizard? She hadn't forgotten what Madam Villanelle had told her about him.

'Mr. Ollivander is one of the greatest Occlumens,' her mentor had whispered. 'And more often than not, all skilled Occlumens have some mastery over Legilimency as well. If you ever encounter a warning from your magic in his presence, create a disturbance and use the whistle.'

Madam Villanelle hadn't doubted Mr. Ollivander's intentions. But Darcie was a little girl, after all. A genius she might be, however, in the ways of the world, she was inexperienced. Not to mention, unknown to Darcie, Madam Villanelle had been directed to protect and cherish this young Malfoy by the minister. The mysterious witch could afford no chance, no matter how small when it came to Darcie.

"Father recalled these words when he found me deciphering old bone texts," she lied anyway, leaving it to luck and the old man's moral integrity. "When I asked him more about them, he told me he had heard it from my great-grandfather."

"Septimus II Malfoy…" Mr. Ollivander mumbled to himself. He smacked his lips, his eyes going through an intense struggle. Then he sighed once more.

Under the confused gaze of Darcie, the old man stood up, went to the main entrance, and looked out through the windows.

Every inch of his mannerism showcased as if a thief was about to carry out the most ridiculous robbery, or as if a spy was about to reveal the greatest military secret.

When Mr. Ollivander returned to his chair, he seemed to be in a great hurry. "It's not like these words are a taboo," he whispered, the very silence in the bookshop becoming magical around them. "However, these words are indeed best not to utter out carelessly."

Darcie neither urged Mr. Ollivander to tell her nor did she hide the rosy color on her cheeks. Her mere presence in front of this wizard demanded an answer.

"Even the greatest of wizards have forgotten about these words, to tell you the truth," he continued. "If it weren't for the Ollivander family's glorious history, even I would have lived twice my age without coming across them. Let me ask you, young lady, how does one go about defining Magic?"

Darcie remembered the words. "Magic is the Supernatural Force that lets wizards and witches change the aspects of the world at the fundamental levels."

"Excellent!" Mr. Ollivander praised, losing himself in the conversation in seconds. "May I ask what are these aspects?"

Darcie knew this answer, too. "Laws."

"Brilliant!" the old man nodded, his face leaving over the chessboard, his voice becoming faint and hushed. "And what are Laws?"

Darcie was about to give a bookish definition, but Mr. Ollivander didn't wait for her answer. "Laws are projections of certain conditions in whose presence a particular natural or scientific phenomenon will always occur. For example…"

Mr. Ollivander put his finger against a white pawn, who tingled at the contact, and then he slid it diagonally. "… When I pushed the pawn, it brought about changes in the pawn's state in a particular direction. This change depended upon the pawn's mass and the force that I applied to it."

Darcie nodded. "I think I read it before," she said, looking thoughtful. "Isn't it Newton's 2nd Law? Force equals mass times acceleration."

"Exactly." Mr. Ollivander shuddered in excitement. Gone were his hesitations and doubts. Gone was his struggle. A genius witch was sitting opposite him, and the topic had already enchanted their minds.

The old man hastily got up and brought back a sheaf of parchment, a quill, and an inkpot.

Darcie put the chessboard off the table.

Mr. Ollivander dipped the quill in the inkpot and then scribbled a few words on the parchment.

F = m*a

"This… is Law," the old wandmaker emphasized. And then he said solemnly, "Remember, only Laws can influence Laws, no matter natural or supernatural."

He then passed the quill to Darcie, who grabbed it with a puzzled face. "What should I write, Mr. Ollivander?"

The old wizard licked his lips. "Write the Supernatural Law that can change the aspect of this Natural Law, making the pawn move in the same way as before, but using magic."

'This?!' Darcie looked thunderstruck. Her hand, grabbing the quill, trembled, and her eyes widened as she stared at the three letters, hiding a supreme force behind them.

Mr. Ollivander took back the quill from Darcie's fingers. "One can't even think of expressing the Supernatural Law of Magic and how it influences Natural Laws using ordinary scripts and symbols," he said, underlining the three English letters. "I hope you have realized what we are discussing here."

Darcie couldn't take her eyes off the simple-looking formula.

The old wizard didn't show mercy, either. "There has never been a way to put Magic onto paper, young lady. At least not one that is known to wizardkind," he whispered, his voice becoming hoarse. "But it hadn't always been so in remote antiquity."

Once again, Mr. Ollivander looked at the main entrance, his eyes glued on the bell that would announce someone's coming the moment the doors were to open.

"There was this one script that allowed one to bring magic down on the paper," he said brokenly. "Charms, Jinxes, Hexes, Curses, and every magical intention are a part of the Supernatural Law called Magic. And Ancient Magical Script was the script that could give precise shape, meaning, and form to these spells. But…"

The old man looked incredibly pale. "… but the opposite is true as well."

"… Opposite." The word escaped Darcie's mouth by itself.

Mr. Ollivander took a deep breath. "Generations and millennia have passed, becoming ashes and dust, thinking about the Origin of Magic," he said, gulping. "Some say… the first of their kind had used Ancient Magical Script to learn Magic in the first place!"

"…?!!" Darcie's eyelids fluttered in deep contemplation.

Then why no one discussed or remembered it? Darcie was little but too brilliant to not understand this question.

The ancient wizardkind had always called themselves the Great Pure Blood who could use Magic, making it some kind of splendorous fact. What would all say if they were to find out that Magic was nothing but a person projecting a script into reality?

And if it was a script, then there must be someone who wrote it initially.

It was Blasphemy against the supposed Origins of Magic at its core. No wonder the three words were lost in history, to where none remembered it.

Now, Darcie even believed that they weren't merely lost, but had been erased from existence.

"But even history couldn't erase it entirely," Mr. Ollivander said, jolting Darcie out of her reverie. "Ancient Magical Script had many forms, depending on the users and the magic involved. One such form survived those times, persisting its way through the supposed deliberate attempts to bury it. However, even its persistence couldn't help it from becoming an obscured, hidden, and feared art, leaving its ancient users to pass it down only one way; by the way of mouth. This art got distorted to the point that it almost became… a bloodline trait."

"What is it?" Darcie demanded, magic churning around with great rhythms. She would have the truth out of Mr. Ollivander. Even her childish cheeks seemed to roar in red curiosity.

Mr. Ollivander opened his mouth. "It's…"

Ding-Dong-Ding!!!

The doors got thrown open, and the bells over them chimed furiously.

Garbed in all pink, a short, squat witch, resembling a large toad, was standing in front of the shop, her face plastered with a toad-like smile.

Yet, the legendary wandmaker might as well have been cursed to not be able to hold himself back.

The answer came pouring out of his old mouth like a flood, drowning Darcie's very thoughts, mind, and soul.

"… Parseltongue!"