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Chapter 128: The Fire Salamander
🕑 Added 2025-11-15 13:07:46 +0000 UTCChapter 128: The Fire Salamander
In the cold courtyard.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ron asked nervously.
"If there are other teachers around, I doubt he'll refuse," Harry replied, his eyes fixed on the staffroom door. "Everyone knows he just made that rule up on the spot." What he didn't say was that he and Ron were desperately trying to figure out how to ask Sean to let them into the hidden practice room. Losing Hermione's book to Snape had only complicated matters.
He went down the steps and knocked on the staffroom door. No answer. He knocked again. Nothing.
Maybe Snape left the book inside? It was worth a try. Harry pushed the door open a crack and peeked in—only to be met with a horrifying sight.
Snape and Filch were the only ones inside. Snape had his robes hiked up above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing him a jar of something.
"Damned creature," Snape was hissing. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"
"Ah, try this," Mr. Filch offered, holding out a familiar-looking potion and a roll of bandages.
Snape looked surprised. "I don't think—"
"Ah, ah, this… it's from Green…" Filch stammered.
Harry clamped his hand over his mouth, stifling a gasp, just as Sean himself rounded the corner, a green-covered book tucked under his arm. Sean, spotting Harry lurking by the door, simply nodded, assuming Harry was there for Hermione's book, and held up an identical copy of Quidditch Through the Ages he'd retrieved from Filch's office.
Merlin's beard… Sean… Harry's mind reeled. He'd only just started trying to get the book back, and Sean had already succeeded?
The rift between Harry, Ron, and Hermione's group was truly cemented by Neville's performance in Charms class.
"Yes, excellent! Mr. Longbottom, truly outstanding progress!" Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice nearly shattered glass. He rushed over to Neville, who was making a small wooden block levitate and spin in tight circles.
The other students stared, wide-eyed, and began whispering. Rumors had spread that Sean possessed a secret magic; Neville's mysterious disappearances were clearly "training sessions," and this magic made you brilliant. How else could anyone explain Neville Longbottom's sudden, shocking competence?
This only made Ron and Harry more desperate to join.
As for Sean, he was busy with his own training. Since Thursday, Snape had been relentlessly supervising his Dark Arts practice, his intensity rivaling that of Oliver Wood, who demanded every second of his team's time for Quidditch.
Snape's "encouragement" usually sounded like this: "Heh… our arrogant Mr. Green thinks he has talent… Let me tell you, Green, I have seen too many so-called 'geniuses'…" His voice would drop to a murderous hiss. "And they are all dead, Green—dead because they wasted their time on frivolous nonsense!"
Regardless of the teaching method, Sean's progress was undeniable:
[You have practiced the Sectumsempra Jinx once to the Expert standard. Proficiency +50]
[You have practiced the Sectumsempra Jinx once to the Expert standard. Proficiency +50]
...
[Knockback Jinx: Expert (10/9000)]
[Sectumsempra Jinx: Adept (10/3000)]
[Next Tier: Three Novice-level Dark Arts spells to unlock the Novice Dark Arts title.]
His Dark Arts title was still at the base level, but his two learned spells were highly proficient. He was already beginning to practice Sectumsempra non-verbally. The progression seemed to follow the same logic as Charms: mastery required both breadth (more spells) and depth (stronger spells). He was looking forward to his next lesson; Snape had promised to teach him a control-based spell, dismissing "mere offense" as insufficient. Pest-stacking? Petrificus Totalus?
Sean had little innate interest in the Dark Arts. They were powerful, yes, but Transfiguration was just as potent and far more versatile, aligning perfectly with his natural talents. More importantly, he didn't dare delve too deep—not only because of the corrosive effect on the soul, but because Hogwarts had a Headmaster who was famously intolerant of Dark Magic.
He poured the vast majority of his time into Transfiguration. He'd mastered inanimate-to-animate transformations and was now practicing Advanced techniques: object-to-magic and multi-layered transfigurations.
A few days later, on the eve of the first Quidditch match, he successfully transfigured a pile of snow into a snowman that could autonomously pack and throw snowballs. It didn't last long—it tended to gleefully tear itself apart to find more ammunition—but it was progress.
His fire-salamander, however, was becoming a problem. It had now grown to the size of a football and was utterly disobedient. It would shoot into the air, zip around the room breathing sparks, and generally cause chaos. Because Sean had cast a Silencing Charm on it, it had once managed to sneak up on Hermione and set her textbook alight.
It was, in essence, Sean's chaotic opposite. Justin joked it was Sean's "inner demon" being released. Sean disagreed; even a demon wouldn't be so barbaric as to destroy a book. Yet, if he tried to control it, it shrank back into a tiny, docile lizard. He knew the football-sized creature wasn't its limit; if he poured all his magic into it, he had no idea what kind of monster he might create. He was gaining a profound, personal appreciation for Professor McGonagall's constant warnings about the dangers of Transfiguration.
(End of Chapter)
