MTLNOVEL Chapter 161: Her Legacy
The trapdoor creaked softly as Cael climbed back into the kitchen, the journal tucked securely under his arm. The faint glow of his wand flickered, illuminating the dust swirling in the stagnant air.
The house remained frozen in time—untouched, but aged. Moss curled along the corners of the windows, vines clawed at the outer walls, and the faint scent of mildew and forgotten magic clung to every surface.
It wasn't a ruin, but it had been abandoned for years.
Cael stood in silence for a long moment, eyes sweeping the quiet space. The remoteness of the cottage, its concealed location behind the hedgerows and distant from the neighboring wizarding homes, made it perfect for someone like him.
Hidden. Secure. A place he could claim.
This is mine now, he thought, setting the journal down gently. No one will find me here.
With resolve tightening in his chest, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
The next few hours were spent scrubbing, repairing, and clearing the house of years' worth of dust and overgrowth. He swept the floors, wiped the windows clean, patched cracks in the stone walls, and replaced rotting boards. His magic made short work of the tougher stains and cobwebbed corners.
Outside, he tamed the yard. The vines strangling the house were pulled down, weeds burned away, and the garden cleared. A small protective fence, reinforced with subtle spells, soon stood around the perimeter—a quiet warning to any curious onlookers.
By the time the sun began to set, the cottage looked alive again. The hearth burned softly, clean floors gleamed faintly in the firelight, and the cool, crisp evening breeze carried in the scent of grass rather than decay.
Exhaustion settled deep in his bones as he collapsed onto the worn sofa, the journal resting on his lap.
Home, he thought, a faint, unfamiliar warmth blooming in his chest.
He flipped the journal open.
The first few pages were neat, organized research notes. Complex runes, ancient diagrams, forgotten magical languages meticulously detailed—his mother's handwriting sharp and elegant.
Most of it was far beyond even his understanding, but he pressed on.
After several pages of technical scripts, the entries changed.
The handwriting softened, flowing into personal reflections—the fragmented memories of a young woman navigating the treacherous halls of the Ministry.
Elara Black, he thought, studying her words. His mother. An Unspeakable. A woman of immense skill with runes and forbidden knowledge.
No wonder they recruited her.
She wrote of her frustration working in the Department of Mysteries, how the secrecy suffocated her. But her talent with forgotten languages and ancient magical history had earned her a place among the elite—even if her family name, Black, had done most of the heavy lifting.
Then came the mention of a project—a legacy hidden for centuries.
Cael's eyes narrowed as he read.
A council of six, his mother had written. Powerful witches and wizards, older than Hogwarts itself—ancient figures who shaped the world from the shadows. Kings and empires bowed to them. They manipulated Muggle politics, wove magic into royal bloodlines, and orchestrated the rise and fall of entire nations.
Their legacies… their power… hidden across the world.
Cael exhaled slowly, eyes tracing her words. Six figures. Six legacies. One of them hidden here, in England—buried beneath centuries of secrecy.
My team found a trace… a Door Key, Elara wrote, describing an artifact capable of transporting its bearer to the legacy's resting place. But the device is inert—its activation lost to time. Our research continues, though others at the Ministry seek the same prize… not all of them trustworthy.
The entry ended abruptly, leaving Cael with more questions than answers.
His heart raced with possibilities—the lost council, their hidden influence, the potential to reclaim forgotten magic. This wasn't part of the world written in Harry Potter's books. This was older, then what he knew of this world .
The pages continued, filled with technical research. He skimmed them until the entries shifted once more—more personal, filled with careful, uncertain emotion.
His mother wrote of a colleague—a young, awkward Unspeakable, two or three years her junior. Shy, easily flustered, intelligent but hopelessly clumsy in conversation.
Funny little thing, she had scrawled fondly. Talks himself in circles, turns red when I tease him. Like a puppy… and yet, I can't help but smile when he's near.
Cael's lips twitched faintly as he read on. Her affection grew across the pages—the hesitant beginnings of trust, quiet attraction, her amusement at his nervous stammering.
He's brilliant beneath the awkwardness, she wrote. Determined. Kind. I never expected… but perhaps…
Cael paused, tapping the edge of the journal thoughtfully.
Maybe… this man is my father, he mused. It made sense—the timeline fit, the connection forming naturally. But the bitterness in the following entries quickly overshadowed the hope.
Her handwriting became sharper. Messier. Frustrated.
1978, the next entry began, the date etched in the corner.
I trusted him. Loved him. I believed we would escape all this—the Ministry, the war, the bloodlines, the legacy… but he betrayed me.
Her pain bled through every word.
She had been pregnant. She had told him. At first, he pretended to care. Pretended to share her joy. But weeks later… the curse came.
A dangerous, ancient curse… from him, she wrote. He cursed me—the father of my child—the man I believed would stand by me. And now, I am dying.
Cael's chest tightened, eyes scanning her desperate words.
She had begged for time—for strength—to survive long enough to see her child. The war outside had worsened. Voldemort's shadow crept into every corner of the magical world.
And the man she loved… was his follower. A spy within the Ministry. A traitor to both their cause and their child.
She had fled—desperate to protect her unborn son or daughter . She had found a Muggle—wealthy, influential—and planned to use spells to manipulate him, to give her child safety and a future beyond the war.
I don't care if he never knows the truth, she wrote. As long as my child is safe, loved, far from the world that destroyed me… I'll die happy.
Cael's throat tightened. His fingers traced her fading words, raw grief simmering beneath his usual detachment.
She fought to live… for me, he realized, his heart heavy.
Her life had been tragedy after tragedy—abusive upbringing, a family legacy of cruelty, betrayal by the one she loved most. Yet, even cursed, even dying, she had sacrificed everything to protect him.
What a woman, he thought, eyes burning faintly.
The system's voice chimed softly in his mind:
"Congratulations, host. Mission complete: Origin Discovered—Elara Black. Reward: +10 Magic Points. Occlumency Mastery Unlocked."
Power stirred faintly within him, new magical strength weaving through his core, along with the defensive discipline of Occlumency—shields forming around his thoughts.
But his mind was elsewhere—on the journal, on the woman whose legacy ran in his veins.
Elara Black. A brilliant mind. A defiant heart. A tragic end.
Cael closed the journal gently, firelight flickering across his solemn expression.
He thought, Even though I have no personal attachment to her… or to the man she loved… every time I read about her, or stand in this house, I feel things I shouldn't. Sadness. Anger. A deep sense of loss that isn't mine to carry. I'm not the original Cael Vale. His soul is long gone.
But somehow, whenever I hear her name… whenever I read about what happened to her… those feelings rise up. As if fragments of the original Cael's emotions still linger, embedded so deeply they've survived even without him.
" system show my stats "
And this system responded
Ding
System Interface – Cael Vale (Black)
Designation: Reincarnated Host
Age: 13
Race: Human
Class: [ young wizard ]
Titles: [Model Student, Cabbage Slayer (don't ask), Star Boy, Mister Precise, Shameless , The Avenger]
Attribute :
STR : 8
INT : 33
CHR : 35
Magic power:63( Hogwarts Graduate level)