Chapter 476: Inwardly Built Magic
"I want you to understand it, and learn to use it."
Snape flicked his wand in a slashing, serpentine motion. A ball of fire erupted
from its tip—it started small, yet it seemed to possess a consciousness of its
own, hungrily seeking out nearby objects to consume. As the discarded materials
in the dungeon ignited, the flames swelled in size. Simultaneously, beasts of
living fire surged forth.
"Fiendfyre," Snape explained coldly. "It summons a cursed, sentient flame. These
flames actively seek out and consume everything in their path, particularly...
life. Once the consumption reaches a certain threshold, the flames manifest as
massive, monstrous beasts. It is intensely hot, possessor of staggering
destructive power, and one of the few materials capable of annihilating anything
it touches."
Amidst the roaring blaze, Sean could clearly feel that Professor Snape's control
over Fiendfyre was an entire level higher than Professor Quirrell's. Quirrell
had struggled even to keep the fire-beasts coherent; Snape, meanwhile, remained
aloof and effortlessly in command.
"It is an incredibly advanced curse, which only a handful of powerful and... ha,
'misguided' wizards dare to attempt. But I tell you this: do fools fear the
blade because they truly fear the metal itself?" Snape sneered, his eyes burning
as he looked at Sean. "They fear only themselves—they fear those versions of
themselves that lack the strength to control power or authority."
With a final flick, Snape checked the spell, and the flames vanished in an
instant. Sean guessed the Professor had used a non-verbal silencing charm.
"Remember well: once Fiendfyre is released, it is nearly impossible to
extinguish or contain. Conventional fire-extinguishing charms are entirely
useless against it. The only way to counter it is to overwhelm and reshape it
with magical power far greater than that of the caster." Snape glanced casually
at a chair that had been reduced to ash, then waved his wand again, causing a
piece of wood in the corner to hop and click into the shape of a chair. "As for
facing失控 (out-of-control) Fiendfyre, Green, I expect you to display the fastest
running speed of your life," Snape added.
The days spent learning Fiendfyre were terrifying. The first time Sean summoned
it, the flames roared, filling half the room and destroying a good portion of
Professor Snape's private storeroom. That was the first time Snape had ever
shown a hint of fear; he released a Finite Incantatem without hesitation to
suppress the fire, then fixed a strange, unreadable gaze upon the drained young
wizard.
"You are being controlled by it! You foolish... Green!" Snape barked, his face
dark with fury.
"Professor... how do I control it?" Sean asked, struggling and careful.
"I suspect your troll-like brain is filled only with images of what Fiendfyre
looks like when it forms. If you imagine it to be so powerful, you are destined
to lose control of it. You must be far stronger than it is, Green," Snape
explained coldly.
Sean's second attempt began. He tried to imagine the Fiendfyre as something
pitifully weak, and a thin, wispy thread of flame rose up. Unfortunately, due to
Sean's poor control, the Fiendfyre manifested as fire-beasts after only a few
seconds. The fire-serpents, Chimeras, and dragons devoured everything in their
path, and another third of Snape's precious collection vanished. Both Sean and
Snape stared blankly at the empty storage cabinet, which now contained nothing
but swirling ash.
"Professor, perhaps we should practice outside..." Sean slumped in his chair,
speaking cautiously.
"We stay here!" Snape roared suddenly. His expression was ugly, yet it was less
anger than pure, stubborn obstinacy. Only here, in the dungeons, where he had
reinforced the magical barriers, could they avoid the prying eyes of certain
meddlesome wizards. He agreed with Dumbledore's outlook, but he trusted that the
boy could control himself.
Time was growing short. If the Dark Lord's power were to wane to a certain
point... no one knew what he might do.
The practice sessions lasted a long time. Sean's Fiendfyre Curse was unlocked
after his third attempt and was now steadily progressing toward [Novice]. At the
same time, Sean discovered a fascinating rule regarding the spell: the panel
rated his powerful, wild Fiendfyre as [Apprentice], but the strictly controlled
Fiendfyre was rated as [Adept]. This defied the usual rules—usually, spells like
Lumos were rated higher the brighter they burned.
"If your intelligence hasn't been incinerated along with the cabinets, you had
best take out your quill and write this down: in the realm of Dark magic,
control is far more important than destruction. I know far too many idiot
wizards who were killed by their own Dark magic. So remember this well, Sean
Green: true power lies in inward construction, not outward extraction—"
Snape's voice ended coldly as the dungeon door slammed shut—or what remained of
it, anyway. Half of it had been burned away by the Fiendfyre. Looking at the
half-charred display case, Snape's expression was unreadable. He couldn't help
but think of the massive flames that had flowed so naturally, the fire-beasts
that had been summoned in a heartbeat. A complex look flickered in his eyes,
only to be replaced by resolve.
Outside the dungeons, Sean pondered Snape's final words. In Dark magic, Snape
was undeniably a rare genius. According to Sirius Black, Snape had known more
curses when he entered Hogwarts than half the students in the seventh year. If
Snape believed that mastering Dark magic was more important than merely
strengthening it, did that mean that for Dark magic, the importance of mastering
and shaping one's own faith far outweighed merely having a firm faith?
Ravenclaw had said: When magic was in its primitive stage, the ancient wizards
walked a path that led straight to the source. They were exploring the essence
of magic and used knowledge and wisdom to build an indestructible faith for
themselves. They explored magic, strengthened their faith, released more
powerful magic, then continued to explore those even more powerful forms... That
was what the ancient wizards had experienced.
But before all that—before wizards had explored magic at all—wizards were pure.
They used no wands, spoke no incantations. In Ravenclaw's memories, duels
between ancient wizards often looked more like a contest of who was more
furious. Whoever mobilized their magic in anger first won the duel. Thus,
wizards in that era couldn't even dream of challenging dragons; mere survival
was a struggle.
And yet, eventually, wizards rose to the pinnacle of the magical world. What
happened during that process?
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