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Chapter 347: Cutting-Edge Dark Magic Revealed
🕑 Added 2025-04-12 18:40:38 +0000 UTCA dimly lit chamber.
Snape sat silently at the desk. Compared to human hearts, he trusted potions more.
Just like that night, fifteen years ago.
Godric's Hollow.
Everything that happened there felt absurd—too coincidental, as if it had all been meticulously orchestrated.
Since that night, he had stopped trusting people altogether.
Even now, when he was told Harry's condition was "stable," the Killing Curse that had suddenly appeared in the Quidditch pitch felt like the universe mocking him.
Stable, they said.
A student not even in fifth year had killed a dragon—instantly.
Forget the raw magical power required—just the sheer killing intent alone was something even seasoned adult wizards might not be capable of.
And this... was under the premise that He had already returned.
In that light, the so-called stable condition felt more like a cruel joke.
"Horcruxes..."
In the stillness of the room, his whisper echoed faintly.
After a long pause, Snape pulled open the drawer to his right and retrieved a photo album—separate from the rest of his belongings.
"Forever Friends – Lily Evans."
His fingers trembled slightly as they brushed across the engraved letters on the cover.
He opened it slowly.
On the first page was a photograph of a beautiful young woman, with deep auburn hair and almond-shaped green eyes.
She was waving cheerfully, her smile blooming like a spring flower—as if she knew someone was watching.
Time slipped by in silence.
After a long while, Snape gently closed the album and wiped the corner of his eye with a single finger.
Then, as though making a firm decision, his gaze shifted toward a closed book resting beside him.
"Cutting-Edge Dark Magic Revealed."
He knew very little about Horcruxes—at least, only what books could tell him.
But that wasn't enough—not for a Potions Master.
To formulate a truly effective potion against them, he needed firsthand experience—intuitive understanding.
Otherwise, all theory would remain just that: empty words.
And the only answer before him now... was to create a Horcrux.
At the thought, Snape lifted his sleeve.
The Dark Mark—shaped like a serpent devouring its own tail—was still faint, barely visible.
But he understood: time was running out.
Since His return, Voldemort had chosen to lie low—unnervingly quiet.
And Dumbledore, too, seemed to be weaving some deeper scheme.
The images of the two powerful men alternated relentlessly in his mind.
After a long silence, Snape stood abruptly.
He walked to the nearby shelf lined with ingredients and retrieved a small bottle filled with shimmering golden liquid.
He opened it.
Just enough for a spoonful.
Without hesitation, he drank the entire measure.
Felix Felicis.
As the potion slid down his throat, the haunting memories from before—Harry, Lily, Horcruxes—faded.
Instead, a new vision bloomed in his mind.
The Thames at dawn.
A young boy with raven-black hair sat beneath a bridge, quietly eating cheap fried fish, utterly alone.
Time passed like flowing water.
Before long, it was December 24th—Christmas Eve.
Ordinarily, this marked the beginning of Hogwarts' winter holiday.
Students would board the Hogwarts Express and reunite with family in time for Christmas dinner.
But not this year.
This year, not a single student chose to leave.
For the first time in Hogwarts history, the train sat idle at the Hogsmeade platform—silent and unmoving.
Christmas Eve.
From dawn, snow blanketed the castle grounds.
The Beauxbatons carriage—massive as a small house—sat like a frost-covered pumpkin in the white landscape.
Not far away, Hagrid and Moody's huts looked like tiny pumpkin pies sprinkled with powdered sugar.
Morning.
The Great Hall remained lively and full of chatter.
Despite it being a holiday, the house-elves still pulled out all the stops, preparing a feast even for simple breakfasts.
At the Gryffindor table, Hermione frowned slightly.
"Hogwarts food is a bit too greasy," she muttered. "I'm worried I won't fit into my dress robes."
Across from her sat black pudding and haggis. The former—a type of blood sausage; the latter, a traditional dish made from sheep's stomach, heart, and kidneys—was rich in flavor and smell.
"You got a dress already?" Ginny turned her head dramatically, eyes wide with mock betrayal. "You didn't tell me!"
"I didn't get it custom made!" Hermione shook her head quickly. "I wrote to my mum and asked her to buy one from a store. I didn't have enough Galleons—only pounds."
Her voice trailed off with a hint of disappointment.
If she'd had the choice, she would have loved to get a magical evening gown from Elegant Enchantments.
Hearing that she didn't have Galleons, Ginny's teasing expression turned serious in an instant.
"Why didn't you say something? We could've traded! And Merlin's beard—imagine if people found out that the girlfriend of the creator of VisionMirror Magazine couldn't afford a dress robe. That would be the biggest scandal of the year!"
"I don't want to spend his money," Hermione answered immediately, without hesitation.
"Does that mean you don't think you'll marry him?" Ginny grinned, eyes flicking to the ring on Hermione's hand.
A moonstone ring.
When Hermione first wore it back to Gryffindor Tower, it caused quite a stir.
She could still remember the girls in the common room—some of them looked like they'd just downed a full glass of lemon juice, their comments sharp with envy.
"I do have confidence!" Hermione said a bit too loudly, her voice cutting through the hall.
Heads turned.
"Alright, alright! I know you do!" Ginny laughed, reaching out like she was calming a startled Puffskein. "Let's go back to the dress robes. What are Muggle stores like? Are they anything like Diagon Alley?"
Hermione paused a moment, then said, "There are different types. Some are just for clothes, others are more like Diagon Alley—selling all sorts of things."
Ginny leaned in, fascinated.
After explaining, Hermione added, "If you're free this summer, I'll write to you. I'll take you shopping."
"It's a promise!" Ginny nodded enthusiastically.
Maybe it was a Weasley trait—but she found Muggle things fascinating.
Soon, their conversation drifted from dress robes to shopping malls, makeup, and all manner of feminine accessories.
Meanwhile...
Compared to the Great Hall's buzz, the Slytherin dorms were anything but peaceful.
When Ino woke up that morning, he found the room nearly buried under a mountain of presents.
To keep things from spiraling into chaos, he called Rick to help unpack and sort them.
As for Draco—he'd given up hoping for help from that direction. The boy was now the official editor-in-chief of a school magazine, vanishing for hours every day.
While unwrapping a box of chocolates, Rick suddenly spoke.
"Master, I believe this one requires your personal attention."
Ino turned.
A package wrapped in plain brown paper, about the size of a book, was held in Rick's hand.
He frowned slightly.
Just moments ago, a box laced with a potent dose of Amortentia hadn't even earned a mention from Rick—yet this package did.
The wrapping was ordinary.
But a faint, nearly imperceptible wave of malevolent energy clung to it.
However—
Before the dark aura could fully manifest, it was instantly swallowed by a swirling black mist.
The Boggart, who had been quietly resting within Ino's shadow, consumed the negative energy in an instant.
Then it melted back into the darkness beneath his feet.
