Chapter 475: Learning Fiendfyre

“Hogwarts professors’ duties are indeed grueling; you should have an assistant. I still remember recommending one to you.”

Dumbledore smiled.

“He needs to attend the Potions Conference.”

Snape spoke sparingly.

“Ah, ah… forgive me, how could I have forgotten? Are you planning to take him along?”

Dumbledore said.

“He signed up himself.”

Snape looked indifferent.

“Oh, well, then let’s say he signed up himself.”

Dumbledore laughed.

Snape glared at him, and only then did he slowly suppress his smile.

“That’s a fine reason. The Board of Governors will agree.”

Dumbledore took the parchment, then suddenly paused.

Thunder cracked across the horizon; rain pattered against the ground.

“You’ve changed too much, Severus.”

Dumbledore said slowly.

Snape said nothing; the extinguished fireplace began to burn again.

It seemed the house-elf had finally noticed the damp, smoldering fire.

The rain outside never ceased, but it would not wet the wizards inside the castle—what wetted them was their own dampened hearts.

“You’re mistaken.”

Snape sneered.

“I’m old, yes—that’s something I must admit… but my eyes are not yet dim.”

Dumbledore ignored Snape’s sarcasm.

“Do not tell anyone about our conversation. You and I know. I demand you swear it.”

Snape suddenly said.

“You don’t want him to know, but I think he should. Even if you refuse to tell him, he’ll find out anyway.”

“Severus, he’s just like you.”

Dumbledore said, as if sighing.

“Like me? I wouldn’t place my life where it could be ended at any moment.”

Snape mocked.

“You would, Severus. You’ve always done so. So far, you’ve been braver than anyone else. Do you know? Sometimes I think our sorting was too hasty…”

Dumbledore said.

Snape fell silent again. After an unknown length of time, he spoke:

“Make me a promise.”

“You ask me again to swear, Severus, never to reveal your best qualities?”

Dumbledore looked down at Snape’s expressionless face and sighed,

“If you insist…”

The rain fell so heavily it shrouded Hogwarts in mist.

The castle’s spires rang with the drumming rain; every window was shut.

The rain from above poured as if it were the tears of the world.

Yet the tears of the world were never as foul as the rain from above—sometimes, even a sunshade could shield against the filthy downpour.

The old wizard walked quietly along a silent corridor of Hogwarts, gazing at the misty horizon, and he knew.

This spring, someone would emerge cleansed by the rain, pure and clear.

…

The exams were over.

Even the rain couldn’t dampen the students’ joy—except Hermione, who still seemed tense from the exams.

“It wasn’t too bad, was it?”

Hermione asked anxiously in the entrance hall, still clutching her wand,

“I can’t say I performed well in the duel—I just ran out the clock. Did you solve the Dark Magic? I don’t even know if I cast the right spell—I must’ve said too much—and—”

“Hermione,”

Jia Jia Siting smiled,

“It’s over…”

“Yeah,”

Ron said grimly,

“We don’t want to retake every exam after it’s done. One round’s bad enough.”

“I didn’t know that,”

Harry remained excited,

“But my magic was wonderful.”

“Of course—you flew me across the room, Harry. Why didn’t anyone tell me Expelliarmus could launch someone like that?”

Ron complained incessantly.

When Xiang Xiang Xien entered the Great Hall, Ron was still grumbling about Harry’s excessive force, Jia Jia Siting was discussing Herbology exam procedures with Neville, and Hermione didn’t dare look at Xiang Xiang Xien.

She could predict she wouldn’t get full marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Facing Xiang Xiang Xien, who had trained with Professor Snape, she could only pray Snape would show a little favoritism—not much, just enough to keep her from falling too far behind some other student.

The day exams ended melted like butter; Hogwarts slowly welcomed a brilliant summer.

Yet even for a Sunday, the castle felt unusually quiet.

Everyone was outside, basking in the sunshine, savoring the relief after exams and the final days of term free from study and tests.

Xiang Xiang Xien walked slowly through the empty corridor, gazing out the window.

He saw people strolling across the open Quidditch pitch, and two students swimming in the Black Lake with the Giant Squid.

He lowered his gaze and silently studied his notes.

The days when Professor Snape taught him the Unforgivable Curses felt like a phantom.

After he returned to the dungeons yesterday, the professor refused to reveal any further techniques.

But regarding how to defend against the Unforgivable Curses—specifically Cruciatus and Imperius—Professor Snape remained strict and thorough.

Though Xiang Xiang Xien had no intention of using the Unforgivable Curses, he had no objection to learning about them.

As Professor Snape had said:

“How can you defend against something you know nothing about?”

So Xiang Xiang Xien still applied himself fully to studying Dark Arts defense. That afternoon, he was going back to the dungeons.

In the dungeons.

It was colder than the main castle; glass jars lined the walls, their preserved animal specimens always making young wizards shiver.

“Potions requires an assistant… always has…”

Snape stood where the light barely reached, speaking bluntly.

Xiang Xiang Xien held his notes, uncertain.

“I don’t need fools to desecrate the precision and elegance of potion-making…”

Snape continued, his gaze fixed on Xiang Xiang Xien.

“Professor, I can…”

Xiang Xiang Xien understood. He volunteered.

Not too foolish…

Snape thought, yet his voice dripped with sarcasm:

“It seems I must choose the least foolish from a crowd of idiots.”

Xiang Xiang Xien said nothing.

He understood Professor Snape as well as the professor understood him.

“The Potions Conference is coming soon. You’d better perform well…”

Snape said, turning away, his satisfaction nearly spilling from his face,

“Today you’ll learn a dangerous spell…”

“What?”

Xiang Xiang Xien asked.

“Fiendfyre.”

Snape said coldly.