"I called you here, Sean," Snape said coldly, "because the groundskeeper informed me that the Slytherin Quidditch team hasn't visited the pitch even once recently."
Not Mr. Sebastian.
Sean.
At some point, Snape's way of addressing him had quietly changed.
It no longer sounded like a simple relationship between professor and student.
Of course—
—anyone imagining anything else deserved immediate Azkaban imprisonment.
Sean casually scratched the side of his nose and narrowed his eyes lazily.
"Snape, I guarantee Slytherin will win."
Then he grinned slightly.
"If you don't believe me, we can make a bet."
Snape's expression froze instantly.
After spending so much time with Sean, he already knew one thing very clearly.
Whenever Sean smiled like that—
—someone was about to suffer.
Snape narrowed his eyes dangerously.
"What kind of bet?"
Sean slowly raised one finger.
"Two bottles of Felix Felicis."
Snape stared at him silently.
Then—
"If you're delirious, I suggest returning to bed immediately, Sean."
His tone became completely uninterested.
Sean pouted unhappily.
Clearly, Snape treasured Felix Felicis more than his own life.
"Fine."
Sean spread his hands helplessly.
"But Slytherin will definitely win this year."
He leaned back comfortably.
"Malfoy's far more talented than you think."
Then Sean silently added inwardly:
Much more talented than even you realize.
Snape ignored him completely and continued brewing the potion inside the cauldron nearby.
Sean stepped closer curiously.
"What are you making now?"
Unfortunately, the moment he leaned over—
his sleeve accidentally knocked several glass test tubes directly off the table.
CRASH.
Snape's eyes instantly locked onto him.
"You've just earned yourself one month of detention, Mr. Sebastian."
Sean clicked his tongue impatiently before casually pulling out his wand.
With a simple flick—
—the shattered test tubes instantly returned to their original positions perfectly restored.
Sean never even spoke the incantation.
This time, Snape finally looked directly at him properly.
"…Interesting."
His dark eyes narrowed slightly.
"Wand movement without verbal casting."
"It seems your progress has accelerated considerably."
Sean's eyes immediately brightened.
"Actually, I wanted to ask you about that."
Without hesitation, Sean explained what happened during his first accidental wandless summoning near Myrtle's bathroom.
After listening quietly, Snape suddenly smirked faintly.
"So our little Sean has already experienced being secretly watched by girls?"
Sean's face darkened instantly.
Snape, meanwhile, finally became serious again.
"Ordinarily, questions like this should be directed toward Professor Flitwick."
"Charms are his specialty."
Then Snape leaned casually against the desk.
"Still…"
"I can answer you."
Sean immediately straightened attentively.
Snape folded his arms slowly.
"Tell me, Sean."
"Why do wizards use wands?"
"And why do they speak incantations while casting spells?"
Sean shook his head cooperatively.
Snape continued calmly:
"In truth…"
"…both are ultimately unnecessary."
Sean blinked.
Snape's gaze darkened slightly.
"Truly powerful wizards—such as Dumbledore…"
He paused briefly before deliberately changing direction.
"…or certain other individuals…"
"…do not require spoken incantations for most magic."
"Many no longer require wands at all."
Sean instantly understood who Snape originally intended to mention.
Voldemort.
"But," Snape continued calmly, "a proper wand strengthens and stabilizes the wizard's magic."
"And incantations themselves serve only one purpose."
Snape looked directly into Sean's eyes.
"They help you focus."
Sean froze slightly.
"You once performed wandless magic while overwhelmed emotionally," Snape explained.
"At that moment, your mind held only one thought."
"You wanted the wand to return to your hand."
"That singular intent allowed the magic to manifest directly."
Sean suddenly understood.
"But wandless casting consumes significantly more magical power than ordinary spellcasting," Snape continued.
"And nonverbal magic is extraordinarily rare among children your age."
Then Snape suddenly asked another question.
"Tell me, Sean."
"What do you believe determines the strength of magic itself?"
Sean touched his chin thoughtfully.
After thinking for several seconds, he answered carefully:
"…Thoughts?"
Snape's eyebrow lifted slightly.
"If you weren't a Slytherin, I'd award points for that answer."
Then he added flatly:
"Professor Flitwick would likely be proud of you."
"That's material taught to seventh years."
Sean immediately grinned proudly.
Still, Snape corrected him calmly.
"Not merely thoughts."
"Intent."
Then Snape's expression slowly became more serious.
"Magic is fundamentally tied to desire, Sean."
"What you truly think…"
"…determines the shape and strength of your spells."
"The purer and more focused your intent, the stronger the magic becomes."
"Conversely, distracted minds produce weaker spellwork."
Sean listened quietly.
Meanwhile, Snape continued slowly:
"And many advanced spells…"
"…especially Dark Magic…"
"…place very specific demands upon the caster's state of mind."
Sean's expression gradually became serious too.
"You once mentioned wanting to learn Sectumsempra."
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I don't know how you discovered its existence."
"But Sectumsempra, like most Dark Magic, requires emotional conditions."
"You must possess genuine hostility."
"Hatred."
"A desire to wound."
"To destroy."
"To hurt another person."
Snape's voice became increasingly calm and cold.
"Only then will the magic respond."
"The more often such magic is used…"
"…the easier it becomes to lose yourself inside those emotions."
Sean's scalp slowly turned numb.
Because Snape's explanation made terrifying sense.
Thinking back carefully—
every time Harry successfully used Dark Magic in the original story, he'd been emotionally unstable.
When Harry used Sectumsempra against Malfoy, he genuinely believed Malfoy had become a Death Eater and wanted to hurt him.
When Harry attempted the Cruciatus Curse after Sirius' death—
it was fueled by grief and rage.
The more Sean thought about it, the more unsettling it became.
Then suddenly, another thought struck him.
Sean frowned deeply.
"…No."
Snape glanced at him.
"What?"
Sean looked genuinely confused now.
"Then why can't I cast the Patronus Charm?"
"I've recalled countless happy memories already."
The moment Sean finished speaking—
Snape, who had just taken a sip of water, nearly inhaled it directly into his lungs.
He stared at Sean in complete disbelief.
.....
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