Chapter 475: Learning Fiendfyre
"Teaching at Hogwarts is an exhausting task indeed; you ought to have a teaching
assistant, if I recall, I even recommended one to you." Dumbledore said with a
smile.
"He needs to attend the Potions Conference," Snape replied, his words clipped.
"Ah... forgive me, how could I have forgotten? You intend to take him with you?"
Dumbledore asked.
"...He signed himself up," Snape said, maintaining an air of detached
indifference.
"Oh, very well, let us say he signed himself up," Dumbledore chuckled. Snape
glared at him until the Headmaster slowly faded his smile.
"A perfectly reasonable excuse. The Board of Governors will approve it,"
Dumbledore said, taking the parchment. Suddenly, he paused. Outside, lightning
crackled, and rain lashed against the ground with a rhythmic patter-patter.
"You have changed too much, Severus," Dumbledore said slowly.
Snape said nothing. The extinguished fireplace slowly began to burn again; it
seemed a house-elf had finally noticed the cold, dampened hearth. The rain
outside never ceased, but it could not soak the wizards inside the castle—it was
their own dampened, heavy hearts that left them drenched.
"You are mistaken," Snape sneered.
"I am old—ah, that is a fact I must admit... but my eyes have not yet grown
dim." Dumbledore ignored the sarcasm.
"Our conversation... tell no one. Between you and me. I want your oath." Snape
said abruptly.
"You ask me to swear again, Severus, to never reveal the best aspects of
yourself?" Dumbledore looked down at Snape's expressionless face and sighed. "If
you insist..."
The rain grew torrential, enshrouding Hogwarts in a thick, murky mist. The
castle's towers were drummed incessantly by the downpour, and every window was
shut tight. The rain from the heavens was relentless, like the tears of the
world itself. But the world's tears were far less turbid than the falling rain,
and sometimes, a sun-umbrella would emerge to ward off the filth of the storm.
The old wizard walked quietly down a silent corridor of Hogwarts, looking out at
the foggy horizon, and thus he knew: in this spring, there were those who would
be cleansed by the rain and emerge as pristine beings.
The exams were over.
Even the rain couldn't dampen the joyous spirits of the young wizards. Only
Hermione seemed to remain on edge, still anxious about the results.
"It wasn't too terrible, was it?" she asked Sean in the entrance hall, her hand
still clutching her wand. "I can't say my dueling exam was my best performance;
I just managed to run the clock down. Did you solve that Dark magic portion? I
don't know if I used the right incantation—I feel like I said far too much—and—"
"Hermione," Justin said with a laugh, "it's already over..."
"Indeed," Ron said, his face set. "We don't need to take every exam over again;
taking it once was bad enough."
"I don't know," Harry said, still buzzing with excitement. "But my magic felt
marvelous."
"Of course it did, you blasted me across the room, Harry. How come no one told
me Expelliarmus had the side effect of launching people into orbit?" Ron
complained.
By the time Sean walked into the Great Hall, Ron was still grumbling about
Harry's excessive force, Justin was debating the procedural steps of the
Herbology exam with Neville, and Hermione hadn't dared to meet Sean's gaze. She
could foresee that she wouldn't be getting full marks in Defense Against the
Dark Arts. Facing Sean, who had been practicing alongside Professor Snape, she
could only pray that Snape would show his usual favoritism—or, at the very
least, not let the gap between her and the young wizard grow too wide.
The days after exams melted away like butter, and Hogwarts Castle slowly ushered
in a radiant summer. Yet, even on a Sunday, the castle felt strangely quiet.
Everyone was outside on the sun-drenched grounds, enjoying the relief of
finished exams and the impending final days of the term, free from the burdens
of revision.
Sean walked slowly down the deserted corridor, looking out the window. He saw
people wandering on the open-air Quidditch pitch, and two students swimming in
the lake, accompanied by the Giant Squid. He pulled his gaze back and silently
looked over his notes.
The days of Professor Snape teaching him the Unforgivable Curses felt like a
phantom. Since he had returned to the dungeon yesterday, the Professor had
refused to divulge any further techniques. However, Snape remained rigorous and
serious regarding how to prevent the Unforgivable Curses—specifically when it
came to resisting the Cruciatus and Imperius Curses.
Though Sean had no intention of casting the Unforgivable Curses, he did not mind
learning the knowledge behind them. As Professor Snape had put it: "If you are
confronted by something you know nothing about, how can you ever hope to resist
it?"
And so, Sean remained sharp, keeping his wits about him to learn the knowledge
of Defense Against the Dark Arts. This afternoon, he would be returning to the
dungeons.
In the dungeons.
The air here was colder than the upper floors of the castle. Glass jars lined
the walls, filled with animal specimens that always made the younger students
shiver.
"Potions class requires a teaching assistant... it has always been so..." Snape
stood in a spot where the light barely reached, speaking bluntly.
Sean held his notes, feeling a bit bewildered.
"I have no need for some fool to desecrate the rigorous and elegant craft of
potion-making..." Snape continued, his gaze locked on Sean.
"Professor, I can..." Sean understood, and he offered "voluntarily."
Not too stupid yet... Snape thought, though his voice remained filled with
mockery: "It appears I am left to choose the least foolish among a crowd of
idiots."
Sean remained silent. He understood Professor Snape just as well as the
Professor understood him.
"The Potions Conference is soon. You had best show me you're worth the
effort..." Snape turned away, satisfaction nearly spilling over his face.
"Today, you will learn a dangerous form of magic..."
"What is it?" Sean asked.
"Fiendfyre," Snape said coldly.
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