Hogwarts: From Selling White Peppers to Becoming a God

Chapter 5 The End of Magic

After a grueling battle, Murphy received a two million pound cheque and a Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit.

Several men with bruised faces and foaming at the mouth were left in the factory. When they woke up and tried to recall what had happened, they found that they couldn't remember anything.

Doing good deeds anonymously is all thanks to the Oblivion Curse.

Murphy drove to the bank, transformed into Jim Stick's likeness using a compound potion containing his hair, cashed the checks, and deposited them into an anonymous account.

He instantly became a millionaire.

Yesterday he was determined to make money, and today he's a multi-millionaire.

Financial freedom was achieved rather quickly.

But the point of selling potions is to make money, right? Now that we have the money, who cares how we got it!

Let's build it first!

Murphy glanced at the Silver Spirit.

Because I wasn't very familiar with cars from the 1980s, and British cars are right-hand drive, I had quite a few accidents along the way.

At this moment, the front bumper of the luxury car was detached, the rear bumper was dented, and the body was covered with scratches, making it look as if it had just narrowly escaped a fatal car accident.

So Murphy drove it to a car dealership, sold it for half price, and then bought a sports car instead.

A silver Porsche 959.

One of the world's finest supercars at this moment.

Although wizards can teleport and fly on broomsticks, the allure of sports cars lies in the feeling of controlling a berserk machine with mortal flesh, like a preliminary mechanical ascension.

Murphy quickly grew to like the feeling. After driving the 959 around London twice, he had a beautiful, fair-skinned British woman in his car.

The girl's name is Sylvia, a sophomore at the Royal Academy of Music, a beautiful older sister who aspires to become a violinist.

Murphy lied, claiming to be a novelist who was preparing to write a magical story called "Harry Potter."

The two had a very pleasant conversation and agreed to visit the British Museum and St. Paul's Cathedral together. They also watched an opera, attended several concerts, and after dinner one day, naturally ended up in bed together.

At night, Murphy stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, with Sylvia sleeping soundly on the large bed behind him.

He poured himself a glass of wine, took a sip, and found he didn't like it, so he ended up drinking a glass of water instead.

Looking out the window at the Thames and the brightly lit London in the distance, that strange thought from a few days ago came back to mind.

Who the hell am I?

Why the hell am I here?

In just a few days, everything in the wizarding world became blurred.

Is there really a magical world behind this bustling city?

Did I really attend Hogwarts?

Am I really a wizard?

Is this fucking not a dream?

He drew his wand, pointed it at the wine bottle on the table, and chanted the spell: "Yugadim Leviosa".

The whiskey floated up.

"Murphy?"

But just then, Sylvia's voice came from behind, "W-how did you do that?"

Murphy turned around. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"I just had a nightmare," the girl said, looking at him blankly. "Was that a magic wand? Was that magic? The magic from your stories? Am I still dreaming?"

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

"But……"

Murphy waved his wand, and before Sylvia could finish speaking, a heavy drowsiness pulled her away, causing her to drift back into sleep.

Murphy lingered in the room for a while longer.

He pondered, looking at the well-dressed boy in the mirror, and suddenly felt a little bored.

In just a few days, he seemed to have already grown tired of the game of wealth.

He filled out a check, placed it in the girl's hand along with the car keys to 959, and then Apparated and disappeared from the room.

He returned to the old house in Darkholm.

Since the Sanders were imprisoned in Azkaban, only Murphy has lived in this gloomy old house. He lived in a boarding school for many years and rarely returned after graduation, so the house has become deserted.

He wandered through several dusty rooms before finally arriving at the basement.

This place was originally a wine cellar, but there was hardly any wine left. When Murphy was in fourth grade, he transformed it into a magic laboratory.

The cellar's floor and walls were magically transformed into a single piece of rock, and half of the space contained only a few mannequins with targets drawn on them, serving as Murphy's spell practice area.

The other half contained several experimental tables filled with various bottles and jars, which served as a potion laboratory.

I practiced a few spells in the spell training ground, smashed and restored the dummy seven or eight times, and then made some potions until I ran out of stored materials.

Looking at the potion table, Murphy breathed a sigh of relief; his previously low mood suddenly improved considerably.

"Damn it, this kind of thing really suits me."

As a time traveler, an orphan, and the son of a dark wizard, Murphy doesn't have many friends. When he's bored during the summer vacation, he passes the time by practicing spells and researching potions.

He loved magic, even more than wizards.

In fact, in his view, wizards were far too careless in their attitude toward their most important quality—magic.

They lack curiosity and have little desire to explore. They have become accustomed to magic, treating it as an ordinary tool, as long as it is sufficient, and seem to have never had the idea of ​​investigating its principles.

In his eyes, the Wizarding World's "Magic Tree" was strangely crooked.

For example, in a world where almost every adult wizard can teleport or achieve teleportation through various means such as Floo Powder or Portkeys, they still use owls for communication.

If it's possible to transport matter—even living beings intact—is it really that difficult to transport information?

The original story seems to have mirrors that can communicate, or magic that allows for remote communication through fire, but strangely, these were not widely used, and people still had to endure the extremely high delay of owl delivery.

For example, most wizards in this world cannot fly.

Even though they could transform into birds and insects and possessed magic that could control the movement of objects, such as levitation and throwing spells, no one invented a spell for flight so that they could soar freely through the sky.

They'd rather fly on broomsticks.

Furthermore, this world contains a time-changing artifact, a truly miraculous object.

He directly shattered the second law of thermodynamics, which was considered indestructible by Muggles.

There is also an elixir of immortality, a magical potion that can make people live to be over six hundred years old.

Surprisingly, few people yearn for immortality. In fact, apart from Voldemort, this oddball, most wizards seem to relish aging.

If you can manipulate time at will, is it really that hard to achieve immortality?

Is resurrection and rebirth really that difficult?

But looking at the history of wizards, only a few fools like Voldemort and Helbo have tried hard to achieve immortality.

The wizards seemed to be very open-minded, to the point that they appeared to have no desires or wants.

But Murphy is different.

He is a time traveler.

He used to be a Muggle.

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

Seeing the many miracles that exist in the wizarding world, he couldn't take them for granted like other wizards. He only wanted these miracles to happen more often, and for more things he once thought were impossible to become possible through magic.

Even more so, deep within him lay an ambition greater than Voldemort, Grindelwald, or any of the dark lords in the history of the wizarding world:

He wanted immortality, he wanted eternal life, and beyond that, he even wanted to be omniscient and omnipotent!

All of this is beyond the capabilities of the technology of the previous life, and even the magic of the wizards today is insufficient.

But if we combine the two...

Perhaps it is not impossible.

From the potion table, Murphy picked up a notebook.

This notebook records some of his research findings on potions over the years, but in fact there are not many remarkable discoveries. Most of it is just a record and summary of his potion-making practice.

But the last part is different from the previous ones.

As Mo Fei looked at the experimental record on "Making White Fresh Essence by Non-Magical Methods," a smile gradually appeared on his face.

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

If all you want is money, robbing someone with magic is faster and safer.

What he really wanted to do was to use the power of Muggle technology to study magic, hoping to advance it to a level that he could not reach on his own.

He wanted to see what lay at the end of magic.

He already knew what he had to do.

(End of this chapter)