The Memory Palace was the signature technique that made Sherlock Holmes famous.
In Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's detective novels, it was portrayed as a highly systematized and visualized method of memory and cognitive organization used by Holmes himself.
At its core, the "Memory Palace" is a mnemonic technique formally known as the "method of loci" that originated in Ancient Greece and Rome. This method works by associating information to be remembered with specific locations within a familiar environment, enabling the brain to store and retrieve knowledge far more efficiently.
In Holmes's case, the memory palace was depicted as a virtual space within his mind, a vast, orderly, and clearly structured "architecture of thought." Every observation, deduction, case clue, scientific concept, and past experience was stored as an object placed within a room, on a shelf, in a drawer, or in a corridor. Whenever needed, Holmes would simply "walk" to the appropriate location and retrieve the information instantly.
Though the term "Memory Palace" was never explicitly used in Conan Doyle's original works, the underlying concept was deeply embedded in Holmes's thought processes.
Ian was also a devoted Holmes fan.
Once he gained the ability to wield magic, he recreated his own version of the Memory Palace using magical means.
It was not an especially sophisticated spell, but it was extraordinarily practical. In fact, he had already begun introducing it on a small scale in auxiliary classes at Hogwarts as a powerful learning technique.
Of course...
While it counted as minor magic to Ian, the Memory Palace spell still had a considerable learning threshold for most Hogwarts students.
Nevertheless, none of this stopped Ian, who had perfected his self-created magic, from absorbing the knowledge of this era in the ancient Egyptian Grand Library, particularly on the floors reserved for wizard-priests.
Many of these documents would be lost in the future, scattered like treasures across history's vast ocean. Ian had no intention of letting such an opportunity slip away.
He began copying knowledge in bulk, intending to reconstruct the texts into physical books with magic once he returned to the future.
"I definitely need to learn this... Hmm, that one looks promising, too. Ancient magic isn't without its merits."
Purple flames flickered silently within bronze lamps, casting Ian's shadow onto the curved walls as a warped silhouette. He knelt on a stone platform deep within the Restricted Section.
Dozens of ancient papyrus scrolls floated around him, turning their pages automatically.
Each page emitted a faint golden magical glow.
The air carried the scent of aged ink mixed with cedar oil and occasionally blended with a subtle fragrance, the unmistakable aroma that genius practitioners could perceive within dense magical fields.
He began with the forbidden texts:
Divine Grafting Techniques, Manual for Artificial Deity Cultivation, and Nineteen Methods of Refining Solar Essence.
These works not only described how mortal beings could be fused with divine power but also detailed ritualistic and alchemical processes capable of creating entities with genuine divine authority.
Yet, the more Ian read, the more he realized that, although the knowledge was powerful, it carried immense risks and profound ethical dilemmas. These were not merely technical experiments; they touched upon the essence of life itself and the fundamental laws of the universe.
Beyond the sensational forbidden tomes, Ian developed a strong interest in orthodox ancient magic texts.
One such work is The Power of the Stars: Origins of Divination, which systematically documents the birth and evolution of divination, preserving numerous techniques that were nearly lost in later eras.
According to the text, the earliest diviners did not use symbolic tools or instruments. Rather, they predicted the future by observing subtle natural changes, such as the direction of the wind, animal behavioral patterns, and the growth conditions of plants.
This approach differs entirely from modern divination practices, such as tarot cards or crystal balls. It aligns far more closely with nature's authentic state.
Ancient magic had its own unique strengths.
"Since I possess superior intelligence, my Memory Palace has enormous storage capacity. No need to worry about running out of space at all," Ian muttered happily, almost humming to himself as the silver-white glow in his eyes intensified.
Before him, the Heliopolis Astral Codex flipped pages at astonishing speed. Star charts drawn with gold powder and cinnabar flowed into his consciousness like a rushing river.
This was not mere visual memorization.
Along with the diagrams, the magical understanding infused by the original author's brushstrokes was being engraved directly into his mind.
In his Memory Palace, Ian had incorporated the long-lost technique of Soul Writing, an ancient art once practiced in the wizarding world but now forgotten.
He had learned it long ago from the Wizards of Ancient Greece.
In truth,
Ancient magic was far from useless. Much like mortise-and-tenon architecture in the Muggle world, certain creations remained brilliant crystallizations of wisdom even as eras changed.
"For example... this."
A thick, crocodile-bound volume suddenly flipped open beside Ian, revealing pages filled with glowing blue hieroglyphs. Chapter Thirteen of The Complete Nile River Alchemy Compendium detailed a method for solidifying moonlight into crystal, a technique that had been declared impossible as early as the eighteenth century and was now laid bare before him in meticulous detail.
"Collect river water at midnight during a full moon. Distill it in a magnetite cauldron. Then, stabilize it using lily pad essential oil."
As Ian studied, lost knowledge and civilizational achievements, never recreated, unfolded before him. These teachings had long vanished into the river of time. Even Hogwarts's Restricted Section preserved only fragmented references to them.
It was easy to imagine why.
In both Muggle and wizarding civilizations, progress was always driven by a tiny minority. Once those individuals disappeared, their achievements often became impossible for later generations to reproduce.
"Good thing I'm stealing knowledge for the sake of civilization," Ian muttered. "That should count as a good deed, shouldn't it?"
His wand rapidly traced auxiliary memory runes across parchment.
A dark red clay tablet floated before him, its cuneiform characters rearranging themselves into an ancient Egyptian script he could understand: 'The Transmutation of Flesh and Bronze.'
It was the legendary ultimate secret of life alchemy.
Ian studied tirelessly.
Another book caught his attention: The Language of Elemental Spirits. It explored methods of communicating with elemental beings corresponding to earth, water, fire, and air.
Unlike spells that directly controlled elemental forces, the text emphasized communication based on understanding and respect.
"To obtain the power of spirits," the book read, "one must first learn to hear their voices."
True mastery of elemental magic required listening to the deep pulse of the Earth, the rhythm of the ocean, the dance of flames, and the currents of the air.
This philosophy described a peaceful path. Perhaps true magic was not domination over power but rather harmony with the world.
"I won't study this myself," Ian murmured, "but younger wizards should." It could help them advance further along the magical path."
Nearly every interesting book he encountered was stored within his Memory Palace.
Of course, the library possessed anti-theft safeguards, but Ian's skill clearly surpassed them.
The Restricted Section's detection system continued to operate. Every seven minutes, cat's-eye gemstones embedded in the ceiling emitted a green light beam across the room. Any unauthorized copying would trigger lethal spells.
Ian had to maintain a delicate equilibrium with his memory magic, deep enough to preserve the essence of knowledge yet subtle enough to avoid producing detectable magical fluctuations.
Ancient alchemy was intoxicating.
Next, he picked up a heavy volume titled The Complete Treatise on Ancient Alchemy. The book documented countless formulas and procedures and explained the theoretical principles of material transformation.
One section described a miraculous substance known as Eternal Water, which was said to preserve any object it touched from decay for centuries.
However, creating it required extraordinarily complex processes and rare materials, such as dew gathered under specific celestial alignments, heartwood essence from millennia-old trees, and specially refined pure metal powders.
As Ian read, he marveled at how the understanding of matter held by ancient alchemists far exceeded that of modern cognition.
Their wisdom shone like the brightest stars in the night sky, guiding future generations toward unknown horizons.
"I need to learn faster."
Ian glanced at the water clock in the corner. The floating marker indicated that there were fewer than two hours before sunset.
Three ancient texts concerning prophecy and fate lay open beside him, fields far beyond modern divination. Rather than relying on tea leaves or crystal balls, these methods involved direct observation of the Threads of Fate themselves.
Though primitive in appearance, they were capable of revealing far deeper secrets than later divination practices.
One technique, the Nine-Star Convergence Observation Method, could reportedly predict an individual's manner of death with precision, down to the time and direction.
"Still, alchemy is far more elegant. All this divination stuff just gives me a headache. Aurora would probably enjoy this part."
Divination had always been Ian's weakest subject at Hogwarts, and traveling back to the ancient era did nothing to change that.
He forced himself to memorize the material anyway and then fully concentrated on his true passion, alchemy.
Ancient alchemy was not limited to attempts at creating life.
It branched into countless strange and fascinating directions.
Time passed swiftly as he studied.
Soon...
Night fell.
Ian gently closed the final golden-glowing papyrus scroll. The lingering warmth of magic at his fingertips made him sigh softly.
Ancient words surged through his mind like the fertile black soil brought by the Nile's flooding, nurturing countless magical secrets lost to later generations.
The astral magic recorded in The Heliopolis Stellar Mysteries, the metal transmutation techniques described in Thebes Alchemy, and the detailed prophetic systems found in Dreams of the Desert were all engraved in his memory, all of this precious knowledge was now deeply engraved within his Memory Palace.
"What an astonishing field of magic..."
Ian was still reluctant to stop.
The gains from this half-day far exceeded his expectations. He had discovered key records concerning artificial deities and uncovered numerous ancient magical systems that weren't even preserved in the Restricted Section of Hogwarts.
One clay tablet discussing bone-and-blood divination shocked him in particular. This extreme spell required the temporary removal of one's own bones to serve as a divination medium, a practice classified as unforgivable Dark Magic in later ages.
Just as Ian finished organizing his thoughts, planning to gather the necessary materials, solve the remaining mysteries, and return secretly again...
The purple torches of the Restricted Section suddenly flickered, their light dimming.
He looked up and saw the hunched library elder standing silently at the edge of the stone platform, having appeared without warning.
Seven colored threads coiled around the old man's withered fingers.
"Honored Messenger, the sun's disk has reached the western mountains." The elder said, his voice far more respectful than before. A strange light glimmered within his clouded eyes. "According to regulations, the library is about to close. However..."
He paused meaningfully.
"A distinguished guest such as yourself may remain and continue studying so long as your departure is kept discreet."
The implication was obvious, an attempt to curry favor with Ian, the supposed "messenger."
Privilege existed in every era, after all.
"Rules are rules."
Ian rose to his feet, his black robes flowing like water beneath the violet flames.
"Even the High Priest must abide by them. How could I claim exemption?"
His tone was solemn and sincere as he quietly traced a marking spell on the waist token, making it easier to return later. It was a small technique he had just learned from Priestly Secret Rites, refined with the expertise of a legendary wizard. Even the library caretaker would detect nothing unusual.
"Such integrity is truly admirable," the old man said, visibly moved. Genuine respect appeared on his wrinkled face. Few people in this era ever refused privilege.
He made a complex gesture. The floating documents returned to their places and the bookshelves shifted as if they were living creatures, opening a pathway toward the exit.
"May the light of Ra forever shine upon you." The elder bowed slightly.
"May the light of knowledge never fade," Ian replied with the standard farewell.
The moment he stepped through the library's bronze doors, the evening wind rushed toward him, carrying the damp scent unique to the Nile.
"As expected, once night falls, it's like entering a completely different city. Not a trace of prosperity remains."
Ian inhaled deeply and was surprised to detect a sharp odor in the air, like burning metal.
The final glow of the sunset faded from the horizon, and the entire city of Memphis had fallen into an unnatural silence.
The streets were eerily empty.
The marketplace, which had been bustling only hours earlier, now held not even a stray cat. Shop doors were tightly shut, some reinforced with heavy iron chains. The echo of Ian's boots against the stone road sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness.
"Earlier than yesterday..."
Ian frowned as he observed his surroundings.
The previous night's curfew had begun after sunset, but today, the city had sealed itself away before dusk ended.
Above the temple, the sky glowed with an unnatural, purplish-red hue, as if painted with bloodstained brushstrokes.
Clearly, the corpse that the Temple had taken away earlier had stirred widespread fear among the populace.
Ian walked along the main street toward the temple, his wand ready to slide from his sleeve at any moment.
As he turned a corner, movement suddenly caught his peripheral vision.
Something was moving in an alley to his right, a blurred figure slipping swiftly along the wall.
"Another reckless soul unafraid of death?"
Ian lightened his footsteps and followed.
In the dimming light, he saw a thin figure wrapped in a coarse cloak, moving with the agility of a desert fox. Every dozen steps, the person paused to leave some kind of mark on walls or doorframes along the residential buildings.
Sneaky.
Secretive.
Definitely not someone with honest intentions.
(End of Chapter)
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