Chapter 514

Snape finished speaking and suddenly fell into the same state as the young wizard before him.

After a brief moment of shock, he angrily drove the only young wizard in the dungeon classroom out.

Only after slamming the oak door shut could he snap back to himself and face his own reflection.

What are you talking about?!

He demanded.

“Ah, ah, very good, hey! Severus, a splendid start.”

In the portrait frame of the dungeon, a plump little gray mare slowly ambled onto the grass and began grazing absentmindedly.

Snape had long grown accustomed to the figures in Hogwarts portraits moving about and leaving their frames to visit one another.

But no portrait dared stay long in his dungeon.

Except…

Sure enough, a short, armored knight chased after his little mare, clanking noisily into the picture.

From the grass stains on his metal knee armor, he must have just fallen off his mount.

“Aha!”

He called out to Snape,

“Severus, you must be thinking—what rascal dares intrude upon my private domain?

Perhaps to mock me?

But Severus, I sometimes think the same—

Damn Severus, is he laughing at me for falling?

Ha! If so, draw your sword, coward Severus!”

The little knight drew his sword from its scabbard, wildly waving it while pretending to rage and leap about.

But the sword was too long for him; he swung too hard, lost his balance, and face-planted into the grass.

“Heh—”

Snape laughed bitterly, leaning closer to the painting.

Inside the portrait, the knight grabbed his sword again and struggled to his feet. But the blade was sunk too deep into the grass; no matter how hard he pulled, he couldn’t free it.

Finally, he collapsed once more, as usual, thudding onto the grass, pushed up his visor, and wiped his sweaty face.

“Severus, even if you throw me into fire and roast me into a meat stick; even if you dump me among trolls and drown me in stench—

I still must say, Severus.

True words cannot be spoken smoothly; they must stumble, falter—

Oh, they are hateful, yet they refuse to die…”

The knight’s feigned anger vanished instantly. He clanked to his feet and shouted:

“Severus, we must find our goal, then die bravely in the charge!”

He pulled again at the sword—still no luck. He tried mounting the plump little mare—failed again. So he cried out:

“That’s it, Severus: strip away the sword, abandon escape, submit to slaughter—this is the moment—

But what of it! It is the moment willingly embraced, the moment when self-loathing turns toward the light! That’s it! Forward! Forward!

You must have a brave heart, Severus! Irrelevant to reason, yet capable of winning all possible outcomes!”

The knight cried, tears welling in his eyes.

Snape fell silent, and silently cast the knight’s portrait out.

But he knew it was useless.

The dungeon must have some portraits, and the young wizards who came would quietly tell the knight portrait who the new additions were.

And this annoying thing would precisely come visiting.

Though annoyed, Snape did not stop it.

Instead, he let the young wizards treat viewing the portrait as a weekly ritual.

After all, that way, he would stay longer.

…

Night fell.

The Slytherin common room still burned with a hearth fire.

It was a long, low cellar, its walls and ceiling built of rough stone, with round, green-glowing lamps hanging from chains from the ceiling.

Beneath an elaborately carved mantelpiece in the cellar, a fire crackled, casting light upon a tall figure seated in one of the carved chairs around it.

Snape sat like a statue, staring into the fire, motionless.

Finally, the bells of Hogwarts rang.

Unconsciously, his gaze lifted to the ceiling, toward Hogwarts’ towering spires.

He thought of this night, this night of rising mist.

And in the tower he silently watched, Wizard Sean had inexplicably gained half a day.

He arrived at the headmaster’s office door, waiting for the stone gargoyle’s question.

“Password?”

The gargoyle asked.

“Lemon…”

Before Wizard Sean finished, the gargoyle leapt aside, as if completing a routine.

“Snowball.”

Wizard Sean whispered it, then silently stepped into the headmaster’s office.

The sun had fully set; Dumbledore’s office was bathed in night.

The glass case holding Godric Gryffindor’s sword glowed with a modest light.

Behind Wizard Sean, the fledgling Fawkes chirped weakly in its nest of ashes.

“Mr. Fawkes.”

Wizard Sean naturally fed the phoenix some herbs.

You have gained the Phoenix (Fawkes)'s favor at a beginner level; favor +3

Phoenix Fawkes: Slightly Favored (Beginner Level) (13/300)

Fawkes's favor has surpassed the beginner level; Wizard Sean's progress on Phoenix biscuits is also slowly increasing.

Slightly cheered, Wizard Sean glanced again around the office—Dumbledore was still absent.

Fortunately, Wizard Sean had written ahead to request use of Gryffindor’s sword, and Bai Yi had returned with Dumbledore’s written approval.

Thus, Wizard Sean placed the letter on the desk, drew out Gryffindor’s sword, and saw its blade still sharp in the evening light.

“Goodbye, Mr. Fawkes.”

Wizard Sean said.

The moment he stepped out of the headmaster’s office, Wizard Sean had already placed his hand on Wilkes’s shoulder.

“Though I don’t know why you always go to that square, Mr. Green, please hold my hand.”

Wilkes bent down and snapped his fingers.

The two vanished from the spot.

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, a room that could not be discovered.

Sirius and a small, ancient, emaciated creature waited anxiously.

They kept glancing out the window, straining to hear any sound of the door opening.

Of course, they heard nothing.

For Wilkes had entered the room directly; now he and Wizard Sean walked past two long, worm-eaten curtains—Wizard Sean knew there was another door behind them.

Then they passed a massive umbrella stand made from what looked like a troll’s severed leg, and climbed a dark staircase, where the wall panels held a row of wrinkled heads.

Wizard Sean looked closely and realized they were house-elf heads.

He recalled the Black family’s ancestral creed: when house-elves grew too old to work, their heads were cut off.

He frowned, lost in thought.

Soon, he reached the floor where Sirius waited.