After Damian successfully translated the Wand-Lighting Charm, Lumos, into Runic Magic, he reached into his magically expanded pouch. He pulled out a heavy, square metal box.
This artifact had been left behind by his grandfather, Alphard Black. It was a relic Alphard had collected during his early years studying Ancient Runes.
The box was roughly the size of a Quaffle. Its four sides were completely covered in intricate Ancient Runes, with the word "Lumos" engraved directly onto the top lid.
Holding the box in one hand, Damian used his raw magic to condense a series of glowing Ancient Runes in his other palm.
As he pressed the floating runes against the metal, the box greedily absorbed the magic. A corresponding runic engraving on the side of the box flared to life, shifting and unlocking from its fixed position.
Encouraged, Damian quickly condensed the remaining Runic Scripts one after another, feeding them into the box piece by piece. These were the exact Runic Scripts corresponding to his newly translated Lumos spell matrix.
When he had first successfully translated the charm, he had immediately remembered this old family heirloom. He had a sneaking suspicion that his grandfather's Magic Cube was directly related to the Runic Magic of Lumos.
Once all the scripts were absorbed, Damian carefully rearranged the illuminated engravings on the surface, sliding them into the exact structural matrix of the Lumos spell.
The moment the matrix was completed, the metal box erupted with a blinding, dazzling light.
A loud series of clicks echoed through the room. Deep fissures opened across the metal surface, and the entire box folded outward, blooming like a disassembled mechanical toy.
Just as Damian had suspected, the Runic Magic for Lumos was the literal key to unlocking it.
"A Magic Cube?" Damian muttered. He picked up the object revealed inside the dismantled box, inspecting it closely in his hand.
It was an exquisitely crafted, intricate Magic Cube. Damian immediately recognized the distinct, indestructible hallmarks of goblin-wrought silver.
He tried to twist the sections of the cube, but it wouldn't budge under brute force. Even when he injected raw magic into the metal, it yielded absolutely no reaction.
"What in the world is this thing?" Damian sighed, having completely hit a wall. Perhaps he would need to track down an actual goblin to ask.
He pulled out his pocket watch. It was time. He had previously promised Professor Snape he would head down to the dungeons to help process a fresh batch of Potions ingredients.
Damian tossed the items back into his pouch, slipped out of the Room of Requirement, and headed straight for Snape's office.
Several hours later, Damian was hauling a heavy wooden crate through the dimly lit castle corridors, trailing closely behind Snape.
"Black salamander tails cannot be dried using fire, magic, or any other artificial methods," Snape drawled slowly, his black cloak billowing ahead of him. "They must be cured under the light of a full moon to preserve their full medicinal properties."
Damian nodded thoughtfully. "No wonder the potions I brewed with standard dried tails sometimes fell short of the expected potency. The drying method was the bottleneck."
"Experience is everything, Damian. Textbooks have limited space and only spoon-feed you the absolute basics. Summarizing and adapting your own experience is an essential process for growth."
Snape suddenly stopped, his dark eyes locking onto several small figures approaching from the other end of the corridor. "Harry Potter?"
It was Harry, Hermione, and Neville.
Snape scanned them coldly. "I believe it is past curfew. Potter—"
Harry turned pale under Snape's chilling gaze, but he lifted his chin stubbornly. "Professor Snape, we are on our way to serve detention. Professor McGonagall told us to report to Mr. Filch immediately."
Damian instantly understood. They were heading to the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid's baby Norwegian Ridgeback—the dragon egg he'd won from a disguised Quirrell—must have hatched. The trio had been caught wandering the halls at night while trying to smuggle the dragonling out of the castle.
Snape's lip curled into a mocking sneer. "If you possessed the capacity to follow basic school rules, you wouldn't be serving detention..."
To Filch's office? Snape frowned slightly. He subconsciously glanced down a separate corridor—the one leading toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.
"Damian, I find myself short on fresh Sunlight Root, and I require it for a brew tonight," Snape said, his expression suddenly shifting to something unreadable. "Go find Hagrid. Have him escort you into the Forbidden Forest to harvest some."
Damian's face was a mask of pure confusion. Going into the Forbidden Forest to pick herbs in the middle of the night?
But after catching the subtle tension in Snape's eyes, he understood. A unicorn had recently been slaughtered in the forest. Snape was clearly worried about the safety of these bumbling first-years and wanted an older, capable student watching their backs.
"And this crate of salamander tails...?" Damian asked, hefting the box.
"I will take it. Just go collect the Sunlight Root". Snape snatched the heavy crate from Damian's arms and handed him a smooth, round crystal in return.
"The Forbidden Forest is far more treacherous at night. If you encounter an... accident, throw this violently into the air."
Without another word, Snape turned and swept away down the corridor, his wide black robes making him look like a billowing cloud of dark smoke.
The four remaining students looked at each other in awkward silence.
Harry finally spoke up. "Senior, we really do have to go to detention."
Damian smiled warmly and nodded. "Let's walk together. Mr. Filch's office is right by the Entrance Hall anyway."
The poor first-years hadn't quite realized yet that their detention was also taking them straight into the Forbidden Forest.
When they arrived at the Entrance Hall, Argus Filch was already waiting for them. Standing beside the squib caretaker, looking thoroughly miserable, was Draco Malfoy.
Seeing Damian, Filch narrowed his bulging eyes. "Are you here for detention too? Professor McGonagall didn't mention your name..."
"Professor Snape asked me to venture into the Forbidden Forest tonight to harvest some fresh Sunlight Root," Damian explained smoothly.
Filch looked at Damian oddly, muttering under his breath. "Asking students to run errands this late... it's the professors who lead them astray, encouraging rule-breaking..."
"Come with me," Filch barked, lighting a lantern and pushing the heavy oak front doors open.
As they stepped out into the chilly night air, Filch turned to Harry and the others with a sinister grin. "It's a crying shame they've abolished the old-fashioned punishments. Hanging you by your wrists from the dungeon ceiling for days on end... I still keep the chains oiled in my office. Perhaps one day they'll let me use them again..."
Harry and the others couldn't help but shudder at the gruesome image, feeling immensely grateful that Hogwarts had modernized its disciplinary methods.
Outside the castle, the grounds were pitch-black, illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight. Filch knew the paths perfectly, quickly leading the group down the sloping lawns toward Hagrid's hut.
A warm, yellow light spilled from the hut's windows. As they approached, the booming barks of Fang the boarhound echoed from inside.
The heavy wooden door swung open, and Hagrid's massive frame filled the threshold, a massive crossbow slung over his shoulder. "Filch? 'Bout time you got here. I'm ready to head out."
Harry's face immediately lit up with relief. He assumed that serving detention with his friend Hagrid would be a walk in the park.
Filch snorted, his voice dripping with malice. "Stupid boy. Do you honestly think wandering into the Forbidden Forest with this oaf is going to be a pleasant stroll? I'll be surprised if you all come out in one piece..."
Hearing this, Malfoy completely lost his cool. "The Forbidden Forest?! We can't go in there in the middle of the night! I heard there are werewolves in there!"
Beside him, Hermione bit her lip, her face draining of color. Neville gripped a handful of Harry's sleeve, trembling violently.
Filch offered a snide, yellow-toothed smile. "You only have yourselves to blame. Should've thought of the werewolves before you decided to go breaking school rules."
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