Inspirational Darkness

Vale leaned slightly closer, narrowing his dull brown eyes.

'Is there something?'

His own thoughts had turned into a whisper. There was a likelihood that Diggle could've been hiding something left unmentioned by the books.

Therefore, the boy was quite intrigued.

'I hope there's something,'

Vale's eyes flashed, refocusing his gaze.

The dim light of Flourish and Blotts cast a soft glow on Diggle's eager face.

"Have you seen this darkness yourself, Mr. Diggle?" Vale's voice dripped with feigned curiosity, his expression crafted to appear innocent. He studied the flicker in Diggle's eyes, searching for any hint of fear or guilt.

Diggle hesitated, the usual spark in his demeanor flickering momentarily before he straightened his posture and forced a smile.

"Oh dear boy, I've been around long enough to hear stories." His voice took on a slightly higher pitch as he gestured animatedly.

"I'm just an eccentric fellow with an affinity for the odd and curious! The Ministry keeps things quite tidy these days. Well… mostly."

Vale caught a glimpse of something deeper in Diggle's eyes—a shadow that danced just out of reach. A façade like his own? Perhaps.

Or perhaps a well-honed mask forged by years of navigating the complexities of wizarding society?

'Hmmm…'

He pressed further, "But surely there are some who dare to tread where others don't? Who use magic for… less noble purposes?"

Diggle's smile faltered again. He blinked rapidly, searching for words while maintaining an upbeat tone.

"Ah yes! There are always tales of rogue wizards and witches—those who go against the grain! But that's why we have people like Professor Dumbledore watching over us."

Vale sensed the shift in conversation like a sudden gust of wind. Dumbledore loomed large in their discourse—a protective figure whose very name seemed to cloak Diggle in safety.

"And what about you?" Vale's gaze sharpened as he tried to peer into the oddball wizard. "What do you do when you see someone teetering on that edge? Do you intervene?"

For a fleeting moment, Diggle's jovial demeanor slipped entirely. He stared at Vale with wide eyes, as if weighing whether to share more than surface-level niceties.

It seemed as if the events of the war were returning to him as memories aplenty.

For a moment, Vale pitied him.

"I…" He stumbled over his words before shaking his head decisively, returning to his familiar exuberance. "I do my best to spread joy! Light is stronger than darkness; you must believe that!"

The conviction in Diggle's response rang true, yet Vale kept his entertaining doubts. He felt as if he had struck a wall—either through genuine belief or careful avoidance.

"Joy," Vale echoed softly, masking his disappointment beneath a veneer of fascination.

Similar, but not quite pure love.

At this moment, Vale's thoughts were in full swing. He didn't even realise that Diggle had waved a hurried goodbye and rushed out of Flourish and Blotts.

A wisp of light flickered at the corner of his eye, casting a faint glow on a tome buried under piles of knowledge.

Vale couldn't help but smile. He knew that familiar, smokey light. It was a manifestation of his magic as an Obscurial.

An application he wasn't sure whether it had existed in the past.

However, it was clearly one difficult to control, reacting vehemently to his stronger intentions and creating dark miracles like the time he reacted to his foster father dragging him out of his hiding place in rage.

'This time, I've managed to manifest a pseudo locating spell.'

Digging through the pile, it didn't take much for Vale to retrieve the glowing book.

'Ah,' his smile grew wider.

"Perhaps this will be my path to magic, no?"

The title of the book was simple.

[The Unwritten Arts].

* * *

"The Unwritten Arts, yet it is clearly written down," Vale took note of the book and belatedly realized the fact that he was broke.

His fingers traced the embossed lettering on the cover, feeling a strange resonance between the tome and his own magic. The irony wasn't lost on him – a book about unwritten magic that someone had bothered to write down. More pressing, however, was the fact that his pockets were empty. Snape hadn't seen fit to provide him with spending money beyond what was strictly necessary for school supplies.

Vale glanced toward the front counter where a bespectacled witch with silver-streaked hair was sorting through a stack of leather-bound journals. His mind raced through possibilities, calculating risks and rewards with cold efficiency.

'I could simply take it,' he thought, feeling the Obscurus side of himself stir at the idea.

'…On second thought, no.'

That would be foolish – drawing attention when he needed to remain inconspicuous.

He could try crying, perhaps? Play the poor orphan card? Vale dismissed this immediately. Too undignified, and likely ineffective with a shopkeeper who had seen every trick.

…The fact that he even considered this made his old soul sigh in disdain.

His gaze fell on his wand. Perhaps he could offer to demonstrate some unusual magic? No, that would only raise questions about his abilities.

In the first place, all magic was unusual in his eyes, being a Muggle-born wizard.

Then it struck him – knowledge was currency in its own right.

Vale approached the counter, the book clutched against his chest. He placed it down carefully, as if handling something precious.

"Excuse me," he said, injecting just the right note of respectful curiosity into his voice.

"I found this quite fascinating, but I'm afraid I've spent my allowance on required texts. Would you consider a trade? I've come across some rather unusual magical theory that might interest the shop."

The witch looked up, skepticism written across her features. Vale leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"It involves the intersection of Obscurus energy and conscious magic – purely theoretical, of course."

Thankfully, Vale had excellent memory. The resources within Thistlecroft Hollow had been the only thing he had to entertain himself, after all.

And it was likely that those resources were brought by none other than Dumbledore himself. The obscure tome entitled [The Echoing Soul: Fractures in Magical Consciousness] would be a worthy resource.

Thus, Vale looked at the witch with a gleam in his gaze.

'Let's hope Dumbledore's reputation and the specialized knowledge in the book is enough of a sway…'