Chapter 611: On the Threshold of Legend
Five o'clock in the morning.
The world was shrouded in a heavy, clinging mist. Two wizards appeared on the
damp shoreline of the lake. Though both faces possessed the soft lines of youth,
their heights were worlds apart. The dark-haired wizard stood at a solid
five-foot-seven, while the small, beaming witch trailing behind him barely
cleared four feet.
"If I can manage one successful cast a day..."
Sean walked across the soft, saturated earth, feeling the damp morning air brush
against his face.
"...It will take another three months."
Since Gellert Grindelwald had forced him to break past his self-imposed limits,
Sean's progress with Fiendfyre had become meteoric. While he hadn't neglected
his other Dark Arts, Grindelwald seemed to take a personal delight in teaching
him the cursed flames.
The Dark Lord's instincts were as lethal as ever. Under his tutelage, Sean
hadn't just reached the high end of the [Expert] tier; he had mastered the
"White Fiendfyre"—a variation of the cursed fire that only consumed specific
targets designated by the caster's will.
It hadn't been an exceptionally difficult lesson; surprisingly, the Fiendfyre
seemed to cooperate with him. Channelling his intent into the flames felt
unnervingly smooth. Sean suspected the root of this success lay in the theory
Grindelwald had provided.
The Dark Arts theory he was currently studying reached toward the Legendary
tier—perhaps beyond. It wasn't the standard Ministry-approved curriculum. Sean's
Dark Magic was becoming an extension of his personal Order, rather than just a
crude desire to inflict harm.
Is it even 'Dark Arts' anymore? Sean wondered.
He suspected Grindelwald was correct: magic wasn't what categorized a wizard as
"Dark" or "Light"—it was their choices. A "White" wizard could still serve the
Death Eaters, and a "Dark" wizard could still stand as a shield in the final
battle.
The mist obscured the distant mountains, drawing Sean's focus back to his own
progress. He couldn't yet cast Legendary-tier spells at will; he was merely at
the entrance of that sanctuary. He could pull on the world's power to assist
him, but he still had to contend with the temperamental nature of the elements.
Most of the time, he couldn't achieve a perfect "Legendary" cast of Fiendfyre.
But Sean was nothing if not diligent. Through tireless repetition, he was slowly
carving a path toward absolute mastery.
Now, he could manage one perfect, qualified practice session per day. Each one
granted him ten thousand proficiency points. At this rate, he would officially
become a Master of the Dark Arts in three months.
Knowing exactly where his path led brought Sean a sense of peace. He enjoyed the
daily ritual of watching his proficiency climb. Magic was becoming a biological
instinct—the Dark Arts representing his will to strike, and the "Light" arts
representing his will to change.
As they reached the water's edge, Sean opened his status panel:
[Master-Tier Dark Arts:]
- Sectumsempra: Master (4,420 / 3,000,000)
- Impedimenta: Expert (200 / 30,000)
- Petrificus Totalus: Expert (340 / 30,000)
- Reducto: Expert (2,340 / 30,000)
- Fiendfyre: Expert (12,120 / 30,000)
[Evaluation: A wizard who has reached the Master tier in the Dark Arts is
superior to the vast majority of Dark Wizards.] [Advancement: Master one
'Legendary' Dark Magic spell to unlock the Legendary title.]
"Brother Sean, I did it!"
A high-pitched, squeaky call broke his concentration. Sean looked down to see
Zoe McGonagall gritting her teeth, her face puffed out as she focused on her
wand. Her gestures and pronunciation were flawless, vibrating with a desperate,
youthful sincerity.
A large stone rose slowly into the air, hovering over the lake before Sean
watched it drop with a satisfying SPLASH.
Sean waved a hand, and the ripples smoothed out instantly, the displaced water
settling back into the lakebed as if it had never been disturbed.
"A textbook Levitation Charm," Sean evaluated. He looked at the girl's expectant
face and added with a hint of a smile, "Exceptional progress. I certainly
couldn't manage that at your age."
Zoe's face turned a brilliant red. She fidgeted with her wand, unable to meet
the eyes of the wizard beside her. To her, he was Mr. Green—the legend from the
papers.
Since their accidental magic had manifested, the "Little McGonagalls" had become
obsessed with the wizarding world. They had spent their allowance on every
newspaper and magazine they could find, and they had quickly discovered that
their "Brother Sean" was quite a big deal.
"Ah, little Green," Grandpa Marcus had told them more than once. "You found his
write-up? Naturally. He's one of us now—a McGonagall in all but name. We can
thank Minerva for that; she always did have an eye for the best. The dark days
are ending, children. A new era is arriving, and the Future's Greatest Wizard is
standing right in our garden."
"What makes someone 'The Greatest Wizard'?" the children had asked, swarming
Marcus.
Marcus, despite his limp, had hoisted them up. "It means he's the strongest. The
one no one can beat."
"The strongest..." Zoe had whispered to herself.
"Would you like to learn the next spell, Zoe?" Sean asked, turning his gaze
toward the sky.
He raised his wand. A sudden gale swept across the lake, driving the heavy
clouds toward the horizon. Sunlight broke through the grey, bathing the
shoreline in warmth. Sean nodded, satisfied. His command over environmental
charms was growing stronger with every cast.
"YES!" Zoe cheered, jumping up and down.
"Have you brought your books?"
Zoe reached into her bulging bag and produced three volumes: Green's Notes:
Charms, Green's Notes: Transfiguration, and Green's Notes: Defense Against the
Dark Arts. She hesitated for a moment before pulling out a fourth, unexpected
volume.
"You want to learn this?" Sean asked, surprised.
"Zoe wants to learn the shadows," she said, her jaw set with a stubborn resolve.
"The Dark Arts..." Sean thought of Grindelwald's words. "Very well. But remember
the warning."
Zoe leaned in as Sean's expression turned serious.
"Caution is the first lesson of defense, Zoe. The Dark Arts are many, varied,
and ever-changing. Fighting them is like fighting a Hydra; cut off one head, and
another appears—one that is fiercer, more cunning, and more treacherous than the
last..."
As Sean's voice echoed across the lake, the thin morning mist began to dissolve.
Within minutes, the air was clear.
But on Sean's chest, within the fractures of the stone pendant, the mists were
gathering with a renewed, frantic speed. Sean spared a glance at the Void Rune.
He knew the signs.
Tonight, he would return to the Lands Between.