Chapter 124: Elder Wood
"I must question," Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice piped up, "whether all of this... is entirely safe..." He was standing on the floor, his tiny form completely obscured by the two tall, robed figures in front of him. Only after he conjured a stack of books to stand on did his worried expression become visible.
In the Headmaster's office, silver instruments whirred and puffed. Fawkes the phoenix dozed on his perch, his red-gold feathers glowing. Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, blue eyes twinkling. An enchanted book turned its pages automatically as he finally spoke.
"I think we needn't worry," he said kindly, his words carrying a deeper meaning. "Children are often far braver than we imagine."
"Brave enough to get themselves killed," Snape sneered. "Letting a first-year confront a troll. Was this your plan, Dumbledore?"
McGonagall stood silently by, neither agreeing nor refuting.
"Hogwarts," Dumbledore said simply, "is the safest place in Britain."
"Hmph." Snape said nothing more. With a final, disgusted snort and a swirl of black robes, he was gone.
"You should have been more cautious, Albus," Minerva McGonagall said, her voice tight, before leaving as well.
Only when he was alone did Dumbledore murmur to himself, "Severus... changing... it has been... a long time..." He then turned his attention to the remaining professor. "Filius, would you be so kind as to tell me more about the boy?"
"Of course, Headmaster!" Flitwick chirped, his previous worry replaced by excitement. "In Charms… and in... 'defensive' Dark Arts... the boy's talent is far beyond anything we could have imagined..." If Severus and Minerva had seen his dueling prowess, Flitwick thought, they would understand... who was truly in danger, the troll or the first-year.
Snape swept through the corridors, radiating an aura of such intense malice that students flattened themselves against the walls to avoid him. The last student to cross him was still serving detention, a month later.
Sean, meanwhile, was waiting patiently outside McGonagall's office, his arms full of Transfiguration texts. The wind was biting, but Filch's scarf, Mrs. Finch-Fletchley's gloves, and Snape's jumper kept him warm. His bag, heavy with McGonagall's private collection, felt secure on his shoulder. He was early, as always. If the professor was there, he could learn. If not, he could review.
Just then, a tall figure blocked the light from the window. Sean looked up into the furious, sallow face of Professor Snape. Snape's gaze flickered for a fraction of a second to the green trim on Sean's jumper, then he jerked his head toward the dungeon stairs. "Come, fool."
Sean, filtering out the insult, silently followed.
The dungeon was colder than the corridors. Rain lashed against the high, frosted windows.
"Who do you think you are?" Snape's sneer was immediate. "Ah, yes, Mr. Green. Believes himself a 'hero' for confronting a troll... I imagine those imbeciles are worshiping you, are they not?!" Snape's voice dripped with scorn, his eyes burning with a cold fire. "Do you think defeating a troll is some great accomplishment, Green? Let me tell you, living is the accomplishment..."
His lip curled. "Compared to those fools… if you had died, do you think anyone would have mourned you?!"
Sean remained silent.
Snape let out a heavy, frustrated breath. He'd known the boy was a fool! An obstinate, reckless fool! He would never learn self-preservation.
"Take out your wand!" Snape commanded, his voice sharper than the wind. "I do not believe, you dunderhead, that your time to die has come just yet."
Sean looked up as a battered, yellow-paged notebook was thrust into his hands. As he began to read, Snape's attention fixed on his wand. It wasn't the usual, dull wood. The body was a deep, inky black that revealed hidden veins of dark purple and crimson as it caught the light.
Elder.
The rarest of all wand woods, and the most notorious. More difficult to master than any other, it possessed immense power but refused to bond with any wizard it deemed its inferior. A wizard who truly mastered an elder wand was destined for a remarkable, often turbulent, fate.
And this... fool... held one. The core, he knew, was Phoenix feather, only adding to its volatility and incredible power. It was a wand… perfectly suited for the Dark Arts.
Snape looked from the wand to the boy, who was now eagerly reading the notes, and his face grew dark and complex. This wand meant the boy's life would never be peaceful.
"If you cannot master this," Snape's voice was cold and hard, "you will not be leaving this dungeon."
An hour later.
"Sectumsempra!" Sean cast, his wand slicing through the air. There was no visible magic, but the target toad across the room instantly sprouted deep, bleeding gashes. Snape immediately cast the counter-curse, his expression stunned.
[You have practiced the Sectumsempra Jinx once to the Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
[Sectumsempra Jinx: Novice (100/900)]
In a single hour, the boy had not only learned the complex, dangerous jinx but had already reached the Novice level. His innate talent for the Dark Arts... it surpassed even Snape's own, who had been casting sixth-year level dark magic upon his arrival at Hogwarts.
"Arrive... one hour earlier... from now on," Snape said, his voice a low growl as Sean packed his bag. "And you will not breathe a word of what you've learned to anyone. Do you understand me? Anyone!"
Before Sean could even nod, Snape had slammed the dungeon door shut.
(End of Chapter)
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