Chapter 5: The End of Magic

After a battle that didn't look like much, Murphy got a check for two million pounds and a Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost.

In the factory, several men with bruised faces and foaming mouths were left behind. When they woke up and wanted to recall what had happened, they would find that they couldn't remember anything.

Doing good deeds without leaving a name, this is all thanks to the Obliviate charm.

Murphy drove to the bank, used Polyjuice Potion with Jim Stik's hair to turn into his appearance, cashed the check, and deposited it into an anonymous account.

Thus, he immediately became a millionaire.

Just yesterday he was swearing to make money, and today he was worth millions.

Financial freedom was achieved a bit too quickly.

But selling potions is just to make money, right? Now that the money is in hand, who cares how it came!

Let's build it first!

Murphy took a look at that Silver Ghost.

Because he wasn't very familiar with 80s cars, and British cars are right-hand drive, he had quite a few accidents along the way.

At this moment, the luxury car's front bumper was off, the rear bumper was dented, and the body was covered in scratches, looking as if it had just narrowly escaped a fatal car accident.

So Murphy drove it to a car dealer, sold it for half price, and turned around to change into a sports car.

A silver Porsche 959.

One of the most outstanding supercars in the world at this moment.

Although wizards can teleport and ride brooms to fly, the charm of a sports car lies more in the feeling of controlling a violent machine with a mortal body, which is like a preliminary mechanical ascension.

Murphy soon fell in love with this feeling. After driving the 959 around London twice, there was a fair-skinned and beautiful English girl in his car.

The girl's name was Sylvia, a sophomore at the Royal College of Music, a beautiful sister who aspired to be a violinist.

Murphy lied that he was a novelist, preparing to write a magic story called "Harry Potter."

The two talked happily, agreed to visit the British Museum and St. Paul's Cathedral together, watched an opera, listened to a few concerts, and after a dinner, naturally rolled into the sheets.

At night, Murphy stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. On the big bed behind him, Sylvia was sleeping soundly.

He poured himself a drink, took a sip, found he couldn't drink it, and finally chose to hold a glass of water.

Looking down at the Thames River outside the window and the brightly lit London in the distance, that strange thought from a few days ago returned to his mind.

Who the fuck am I?

Why the hell am I here?

In just a few days, everything in the Wizarding World had become blurred.

Is there really such a magical world behind this prosperous city?

Did I really go to school at Hogwarts?

Am I really a wizard?

This hell isn't a dream, is it?

He pulled out his wand, pointed it at the wine bottle on the table, and chanted the spell: "Wingardium Leviosa."

The whiskey floated up.

"Murphy?"

But at this moment, Sylvia's voice came from behind. "You, how did you do that?"

Murphy turned his head. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Just had a nightmare," the girl looked at him blankly. "That's a wand? This is magic? The magic in your story? I'm not still dreaming, am I?"

Murphy smiled. "That's right, it's just a dream, go back to sleep."

"But..."

Murphy waved his wand. Before Sylvia could finish her words, she felt a heavy drowsiness pulling at her, making her sink into a dream again.

Murphy stayed in the room for a while longer.

He pondered, looking at the exquisitely dressed boy in the mirror, suddenly feeling uninterested.

It had only been a few days, but for the game of wealth, he seemed to have started to get bored.

He filled out a check, put it together with the 959's car keys into the girl's hand, and then Apparated, disappearing from the room.

He returned to the Darkholm old house.

Ever since the Sanders couple were caught in Azkaban, this gloomy old house had only been inhabited by Murphy, and he lived at school all year round and rarely came back after graduation, so the house had no popularity at all.

He walked around a few dusty rooms and finally came to the basement.

This was originally a wine cellar, but it had long since run out of stock. In Murphy's fourth year, it was transformed by him into a magic laboratory.

The floor and walls of the wine cellar were transformed by magic into a single piece of rock, half of the space had only a few dummies drawn with targets, which was Murphy's spell practice field.

The other half had a few test benches, covered with all kinds of bottles and jars, which was the potion laboratory.

Practicing a few spells in the spell practice field, shattering and restoring the dummies seven or eight times, and then making some potions until the stored materials were used up.

Looking at the Draught of Living Death, Love Potion, and a few bottles of Skele-Gro on the potion table, Murphy let out a long breath, and the low mood just now improved a lot.

"Damn it, sure enough, this kind of thing still suits me."

As a transmigrator, orphan, and son of a Dark Wizard, Murphy didn't have many friends. When he was bored during the summer vacation, he would use practicing spells and researching potions to pass the time.

He liked magic, even far more than wizards liked it.

In fact, in his view, the attitude of wizards toward their most important trait—magic—was too sloppy.

They lacked curiosity and had no desire to explore. They were accustomed to such magical things and treated them as ordinary tools. As long as they were enough to use, they seemed to never have the thought of exploring their principles.

In his eyes, the "magic tree" of the Wizarding World was pointed in a very strange direction.

For example, in this world where almost every adult wizard can teleport, or achieve teleportation effects through Floo powder, Portkeys, and other ways, they still use owls for communication.

Transporting matter—even transporting living things intact—can be done, is it very difficult to transmit information?

In the original work, there seemed to be mirrors that could talk to each other, or magic that could communicate remotely through flames, but strangely, it was not popularized, and people still had to endure the ultra-high latency of owls delivering letters.

For another example, most wizards in this world cannot fly.

Even though they can even transform into flying birds, insects, and possess floating spells, throwing spells, and other magic that can control the movement of objects, no one has invented a flight spell that allows them to soar freely in the sky.

They would rather fly on brooms.

Also, this world has a heaven-defying divine object like the Time-Turner.

It directly smashed the second law of thermodynamics, which is indestructible in Muggle cognition, to pieces.

There is also the Immortality Potion that can make people live for more than six hundred years.

Yet, surprisingly, few people yearn for immortality, and even besides Voldemort, this freak, most wizards seem to be content with aging.

Playing with time in the palm of one's hand, is immortality still difficult?

Even, resurrection and rebirth, is it difficult?

But looking at wizarding history, there are only a few idiots like Voldemort and Heilbo who are trying to make themselves immortal.

Wizards seem to be very open-minded, to the point of appearing to have no desires.

But Murphy is different.

He is a transmigrator.

He was once a Muggle.

Having undergone scientific thinking training, his way of thinking is completely different from ordinary wizards.

Seeing the many miracles that exist in the Wizarding World, he couldn't do as other wizards did and take them for granted. He just wanted to make these miracles happen more, and let more things he once thought impossible become possible through magic.

Even, buried deep in his heart is an ambition greater than Voldemort, greater than Grindelwald, greater than all the Dark Lords in the history of the Wizarding World:

He wants immortality, he wants eternity, and on top of that, he even wants to be omniscient and omnipotent!

All of this, the technology of the previous life cannot do for the time being, and the magic of the current wizards alone cannot do it either.

But if the two are combined...

Maybe it's not impossible.

From the potion table, Murphy picked up a notebook.

This notebook recorded some of his research results on potions over the years, but in fact, there were no amazing discoveries. Most of them were just records and summaries made for practicing potions.

But the last part was different from the front.

Murphy looked at the experimental record of "making Essence of Dittany by non-magical means" on it, flipping through it, and a smile gradually appeared on his face.

Now he understands why he thought of selling potions in the Muggle world.

If it's just to make money, using magic to rob is faster and safer.

What he really wants to do, in fact, is to use the power of Muggle technology to study magic, with the hope of pushing it to a realm he cannot reach by himself.

He wants to see what is at the end of magic.

He already knows what he should do.

(End of chapter)