Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 512 513: Words of Despair

Hogwarts was as silent as a tomb.

Aside from Sean Green, no other student had been permitted to return early. The

professors, however, rarely left the castle, which meant Sean had the undivided

attention of the greatest magical minds in Britain for one-on-one

instruction—provided, of course, he could find his way out of the dungeons.

On the morning of his return from the Leaky Cauldron, Sean began his practice

with Fiendfyre.

A soft breeze flickered through the room as roaring, sentient flames gradually

filled half of the underground classroom. The interface in Sean's mind chimed,

grading his control of the cursed fire at the [Expert] level. As he maintained

the spell, he pondered a concept that would make most wizards pale with terror:

Reconstructing the Dark Arts.

Magic was born from the Order within a wizard's heart. Sean knew that cruelty

and murder had been baked into the very foundation of Dark Magic since the dawn

of time. Ancient wizards faced a wild, violent world; to survive, they had to

cultivate a matching violence within themselves. They twisted their own souls to

grasp that raw power, creating the dark faith that fueled their spells.

But Sean wondered: if the ancients could create magic that corrupted the mind,

could he reach back to the source of that power and rebuild it? Could he create

a new Order—a new Wisdom—that didn't require malice?

It was a plan that bordered on the impossible. To date, it existed only in the

quiet corners of his mind. But if he succeeded, it would be the greatest magical

revolution in history.

Dark wizards were legendary for their power, but they paid for it with their

humanity. But what if the Dark Arts didn't require a heart full of hate or a

soul full of rage? What if dark magic could be mastered as a neutral force, just

like any other charm?

Sean knew that cruelty would never truly vanish from the world. But perhaps he

could ensure it was no longer the only shortcut to power.

The morning at Hogwarts was breathtakingly bright. The sky was a hazy, powdered

blue, clear and vast. Even through the narrow slits of the dungeon windows, Sean

could see the massive beech tree on the grounds, its emerald leaves tipped with

gold, standing as a silent witness to generations of students.

Sean realized that a young Severus Snape had once sat under that very tree,

scrawling notes for his exams with a scowl that hadn't changed in twenty years.

"Your mind is wandering, Green..."

Snape's silky, snide voice cut through the silence.

"My apologies, Professor," Sean said, snapping back to the present.

"Hmph." Snape watched him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Control,

Green. Unless you wish to end up like my more 'inspired' students—burned to a

pile of ash by your own fire—you must maintain control at every single second,

right down to the moment the last spark dies."

Snape stepped down from the dais, moving closer to the young wizard. He noticed

the slight fatigue in Sean's eyes from the prolonged practice.

"Now..." Snape's eyes locked onto Sean's. "I am going to teach you to resist the

Imperius Curse. You will remember every word I say, or you will regret it."

Sean straightened up, stowing his wand in his belt with a practiced motion.

"Listen well," Snape continued. "Dumbledore doesn't want you touching this. But

Green, accidents do not pick their moments, and they certainly do not pick their

victims. If you would rather learn the hard way—by waiting until someone casts

it on you and turns you into their puppet—that is your choice. But I do not find

that acceptable."

Snape gripped his wand tightly. "I will teach you to fight it. To break it.

Watch."

Snape turned toward a row of glass terrariums containing various small animals.

He cast the curse repeatedly. Under the influence of Imperio, the creatures

began to perform the most bizarre actions.

A rat hopped in a circle around a cat three times, showing no fear even when the

cat bared its teeth. A toad began to mimic a squirrel, attempting to climb a

stone pillar. A venomous snake performed a series of intricate, unnatural coils

that would have been physically impossible in its normal state.

The animals had no control over their own bodies. Only when Snape lifted the

curse did they collapse, returning to their natural instincts.

"Green," Snape said lowly. "Your turn. Remember—resist me."

Sean took a breath and walked to the center of the classroom. The room was

filled with the scent of simmering ingredients and the faint, bitter smoke of

dragon liver. Snape moved closer through the haze. He raised his wand, pointing

it directly at Sean's chest.

"Imperio!"

Sean felt a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced.

He felt light—buoyant, as if he were made of air. Every worry, every calculated

plan, and every shred of anxiety vanished from his mind, replaced by a hazy,

untouchable bliss. He stood there, feeling perfectly at ease, perfectly free.

Then, he heard a voice. It echoed from a far-off corner of his empty mind:

Come here... walk toward me...

But why? another voice stirred in the back of his head. Why should I walk toward

you?

Come here... the first voice repeated.

No... the second voice said, its tone becoming firmer. Why?

COME HERE! the first voice roared.

As the internal struggle peaked, both voices were suddenly drowned out by a

chorus of other echoes—voices from the world behind the veil:

"Sean Green, my student... do not sleep," one voice said, warm and stern.

"Sean Green, my friend... wake up," another voice repeated, urgent and kind.

Sean's eyes snapped into focus. His body was his own again. Snape stared in

shock as a thin, white mist began to pour from the amulet on Sean's chest.

The mist was a brilliant, blinding white—not like a normal fog, but like a

substance that hadn't yet taken a physical form. It swirled around Sean like a

protective shroud.

Snape stood frozen, his wand arm trembling slightly as he stared at the vapor.

"Professor?" Sean asked, stepping forward with a look of curiosity.

"It... it was adequate," Snape said quickly, his voice cracking for a split

second. "You resisted. No... it wasn't just you who resisted..."

Snape fell into a deep, brooding silence. Sean watched as the Professor's brow

furrowed. He looked at the amulet, then back at Sean's eyes, his own gaze

narrowing with a desperate, sharp intensity.

"What else are you hiding from me?" Snape whispered. He began to pace the room

before finally stopping directly in front of Sean. He leaned down, his face a

mask of cold, dark shadows.

Sean didn't have to explain much before Snape recognized the truth of the "Lands

Between."

Snape stared at him, his voice dropping to a jagged whisper. He spoke a sentence

that left Sean completely stunned:

"The Void Rune. A relic of Uagadou... a legendary artifact that has never left

the hands of the Great Masters. It gives a wizard the power to walk through

legends... to step into the dreams of the soul. If the stories are true—if it

isn't just a myth—then tell me, Sean Green..."

Snape grabbed Sean's shoulder, his grip painfully tight.

"What about mine? What about my dream?"

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