Chapter 82: Dark Arts Talent
"Then why," Professor Flitwick continued, his bright eyes fixed on Sean, "must we approach the study of the Dark Arts with such caution?" He waited, anticipating a response beyond the usual platitudes about destructive power or lack of control.
"The Dark Arts are generally understood to have a corrosive effect on the practitioner's soul," Sean answered thoughtfully. "That's partly why they are termed 'dark.'" He recalled Dumbledore's specific warning: Dark Magic involving murder damaged the soul. Dumbledore had told Snape that Malfoy's soul was "not yet so damaged" by his attempts to kill him, implying the act itself, if successful, would have "split" it. This suggested that potent Dark Magic, like the Killing Curse, inherently harmed the caster's soul. Creating Horcruxes, the darkest magic of all, involved the deliberate, unnatural fragmentation of the soul for the sake of immortality.
"Furthermore," Sean added, remembering another crucial point, "just as all spells require clear intent, powerful Dark Magic necessitates malicious intent to be cast successfully." This point had struck him profoundly. Forcing oneself to cultivate "pure malice," especially for a young, inexperienced wizard, could have a deeply damaging psychological impact.
"An incredible answer!" Professor Flitwick nearly bounced off the table in his excitement.
"You must remember, Mr. Green," he continued, his tone becoming serious, "the Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructi1ble. But—" Flitwick's expression shifted again, becoming thoughtful. "The Dark Arts are like a blade. In the hands of the malicious, they serve foul purposes. Ultimately, however, their nature is tied to the user's intent. Flipendo!"
With a flick of his wand, the squirrel that had tentatively crept back through the window was sent tumbling backwards. Yet, miraculously, it landed unharmed, gently guided to the floor by Flitwick's silent Levitation Charm.
"Flipendo!" Flitwick cast again. This time, a stack of books wasn't so fortunate, flying across the room and crashing against the far wall.
Sean watched, understanding dawning. The caster defined the magic. Intent mattered. He recalled Dumbledore explaining that Snape killing him, an act of mercy "saving an old man pain and humiliation," would not harm Snape's soul. A knife used in a robbery versus a knife used in self-defence – both could wound, but they were not morally equivalent.
"Did you see clearly, Mr. Green?" Professor Flitwick asked. It had been many years since he'd encountered a student with such sharp intellect and dedication. He genuinely appreciated Sean's combination of wisdom and hard work, and thus offered his guidance with extra patience and warmth.
"Yes, Professor." Sean raised his wand, a flicker of anticipation mixing with his usual focus. The initial moments of learning a new branch of magic often revealed one's innate aptitude. Mindful of the potential dangers, Flitwick kept his own wand at the ready; young wizards often struggled with controlling the power of new spells.
"Flipendo!"
A surge of raw magical energy erupted from Sean's wand tip, blasting everything in the room – desks, chairs, inkwells, even the poor squirrel again – violently outwards from him as the center point. Professor Flitwick, caught completely off guard, was flung against the ceiling once more, only saving himself with a lightning-fast, non-verbal Cushioning Charm.
Sean stared, momentarily stunned. Then, inspiration struck like a tiny, mischievous pixie. He reversed the wand movement, focusing on the opposite intent – repel these scattered objects back to their places.
And incredibly, the objects flew back, arranging themselves neatly around the room.
[You have practiced the Knockback Jinx to the Expert standard. Proficiency +50]
[You have practiced the Knockback Jinx (Reverse Application) to the Expert standard. Proficiency +50]
[A new Title in the field of Dark Arts has been unlocked. Please view.]
[A new Wizarding Talent has been discovered. Please view.]
Oh dear, was Sean's first thought. I really am a Dark Arts genius.
Even worse, was his second, Professor Flitwick is stuck to the ceiling again.
"Absolutely jaw-dropping talent!" Flitwick exclaimed, showing no sign of annoyance. He waved his wand and floated gracefully down to stand before Sean, his voice trembling with a mixture of shock and sheer delight. "Utterly unexpected… quite incredible…" He paced back and forth, muttering to himself.
Seizing the opportunity, Sean checked his Panel.
[Title: Dark Arts Acolyte]
[Effect: Slightly increases perception of Dark Magic. Slightly improves Dark Arts talent.]
Expected. He held his breath.
[Wizard: Sean Green]
[Dark Arts Talent: Gold (Legendary)]
Boosted by Title: Dark Arts Acolyte. Note: Average wizarding talent is Green (Uncommon).
[Evaluation: You are a prodigy of historical rarity in the Dark Arts. Dark Magic readily embraces you. You are a natural-born Lord of the Dark Arts.]
Lord of the Dark Arts? Doesn't that just mean… Dark Lord?
Sean felt faint. This is slander! Pure, unadulterated slander!
Friday.
Sean had met all the conditions for the scholarship. Herbology, Potions, Astronomy, History, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration – within one month, he had essentially mastered the entire first-year curriculum. In Transfiguration and Charms, he was already performing at the level of some upper-year students. As for History… his notes were now apparently circulating even among recent graduates, though Sean couldn't fathom why.
Today, he stood outside the Headmaster's office, waiting nervously, expectantly, for the final verdict. He had worked relentlessly for this goal since the day he arrived, his focus on learning magic consuming nearly every waking moment.
The Headmaster's office was a large, beautiful circular room filled with intricate silver instruments and portraits of previous Headmasters. Beside the fireplace, a blackened kettle still bubbled merrily.
"Ah, Minerva," Albus Dumbledore sat behind his large oak desk, half-moon spectacles perched halfway down his long nose. His bright blue eyes twinkled as he gazed out the window at the setting sun. "Do you believe Mr. Green will secure the scholarship?"
He casually extracted a single, elegantly written letter from the pile on his desk.
To the Hogwarts Scholarship Committee,
It is with the utmost sincerity and strongest possible conviction that I recommend Mr. Sean Green for this special scholarship.
In all my years of teaching, I have rarely encountered a student possessing such an exceptional combination of talent and character. Mr. Green has not only mastered all core subjects with outstanding marks, but his practical precision in Charms and innate gift for Transfiguration far exceed the standard expected of junior students. What is particularly commendable is that this young gentleman, relying solely on his own resources, has demonstrated resilience, self-discipline, and kindness far beyond his years. The brilliance of his character, talent, and effort can no longer be concealed by his modest demeanor.
He is unequivocally deserving of this support and possesses the potential to become one of Hogwarts's greatest prides.
—Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House
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