Third year is when things became interesting. My magic had matured enough both due to body and daily practice, for me to attempt more difficult spells, and of the darker nature. I would never have expected that my knowledge and repertoire would be catapulted into such a vast experience for a 14 year old, simply due to asking Severus for help.
-Excerpt from Celestia Ravenclaw’s Journals, on the third year and dark arts.
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The past two years have flown by, and it’s the middle of January in my third year, right after my 14th birthday. Not a lot happened the first two and a half years. Studying, asking professors questions, studying. Going back home for holidays to the elves and mother. Hecate visiting in dreams to catch up and spending some time together. Helena coming by every now and then for tea, which kept infuriating me and her laughing at my dilemma of how she can drink tea. I asked mother Hecate but she simply said technically it wasn’t her.
I have progressed to a decent level in Shouts and spells, some guidance from Flitwick, and a non official dueling club. What is currently holding me back is that the RoR dummies aren’t advanced enough for me to simulate a real person. Sure they’ve been great for practicing accuracy, dodging, shielding and fighting against groups, they are pre-programmed with changing patterns, and after a couple of years are no longer challenging.
Which is why I am outside Severus’ office, as he’s the only one going to give me proper answers without asking too many questions.
Knocking on the door I can hear a drawl “Come in.”
Entering the room I can see Severus scribbling on a parchment, with another stack besides him. He looks up for a minute to see me before going back to his parchment.
“If I knew an open invitation would see you here once a week, I would never have invited you.”
I smirk at his scowl, hidden beneath bangs and his nose in the papers.
“Aw don’t be like that Sev, you know you love me.”
A literal growl emits from his chest, and I burst out laughing. After that first conversation in my first year, we have grown, not exactly close, but into something akin to companions or kindred spirits. We’re both sarcastic as hell and generally annoyed with people. While he doesn’t know anything specific regarding me, not even my parents, he has picked up on my maturity and treats me more like a coworker than a student behind closed doors.
“Celestia I swear if you don’t want to become intimately familiar with the Cruciatus you will grab a stack and cease your endless blabber.”
My smirk still in place I summon a chair and sit down, grabbing a quill and a bottle of ink from my robes before starting to mark the first year essays.
“Speaking of the Cruciatus, that is sort of why I came looking for you.”
I can hear the scribbling stop and I look up into Severus’ dark eyes. Not looking away until he’s done scrutinizing.
“Very well, ask your questions.”
Both of us going back to our parchments we begin a conversation.
“I’m at a stalemate in anything considered gray or lighter, and my magic is mature enough for me to start looking into the dark arts.”
He lets out a hum, signaling for me to go on.
“My family library doesn’t have a lot of information regarding the dark arts, only spellbooks and how to use it, so I figured you were the best person to come to for questions.”
“You came to me, the potions professor, instead of your DADA professor?”
When I don’t respond he looks up into my deadpan glare. We both know those professors are absolutely worthless, and I’m not keen on asking Voldemort those questions next year, best to keep under the radar for now. If he even becomes a teacher.
“What question is too complex for the prodigal Miss Ravenclaw to figure out on her own?”
My glare turns into a smirk, I can’t stop loving his sassy sarcastic humour.
“Mainly two. What potential consequences will I face delving into the dark arts, and why the fuck is the killing curse a one way ticket to Azkaban?”
“Language.” Is his automatic response, to which I scowl.
Setting down his quill he leans back into the chair, relaxing, which still surprises me when his perfect composure is broken.
“Outside of a few specific spells, and most dark rituals there are few permanent consequences if you go into them with a correct frame of mind. The dark arts require a mindset and intent to harm, maim, injure, kill, torture. Most spells feed off negative emotions, and using them without a strong enough will, or often enough without control will eventually spiral down into a permanent state, where you will be stuck in that mindset. Killing and torture will be your first and instinctual response to any conflict, verbal or otherwise, and your emotional range will be stuck in the negative, only feeling anger, hate, irritation, etc.”
I let out a hum as I ponder over his answer. My dragon nature is already different from human, and I don’t think the mindset will be an issue. My main problems will most likely be the emotions, I already feel emotions stronger than a human, and that goes doubly for the negative range. My arrogance can become a problem, but I think with controlled practice the dark arts would become a strength rather than a weakness to me.
“And the killing curse?”
“Ministry idiocy at its finest. Killing is publicly seen as an awful thing to do. Blood purists do agree, but not for the same reason. Spilt pureblood is seen as an offense, but they do not view killing as morally wrong. The killing curse was made highly illegal after a war wiping out half of magical Britain, as we often do, and nobody has wanted to shoulder the negativity of public opinion of lifting that ban.”
Before I can voice another question, Severus’ has a contemplative expression on his face, before looking back at me.
“Meet me back here tomorrow after dinner. If anyone asks, you have detention with me for being too vulgar in class.”
I let out another smirk as I finish my stack of essays, packing up my things and moving towards the door.
Before exiting I look over my shoulder towards Severus and a grin spreads across my face. “Severus, want to come warm my bed?” I throw him a wink before closing the door, laughing when I hear a shout of “5 points from Ravenclaw.”
