Hagrid's Hut
"Is that three-headed dog yours, Hagrid?" Just like Hermione, who seemed to know everything, it was up to Harry to engage Hagrid in conversation.
"How do you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid set down the teapot he was holding and started pouring tea for the three of them.
"Fluffy?" The three exchanged puzzled looks.
"Well, I won him from a Greek bloke, and I lent him to Dumbledore to guard..." Hagrid finally recalled that this wasn't something first-years should be privy to.
"What?" Hermione asked eagerly.
"Enough! Don't ask! This isn't something you should be aware of," Hagrid said gruffly. "Consider this Secret Number One, understood?"
"But it bit Snape. I saw him limping that day. I can't think of anything else in school that could hurt Snape except that dog," Harry looked into Hagrid's eyes, unable to avert his gaze.
"That's impossible! Fluffy's a good boy." Hagrid took a deep breath and lowered his tone. "Listen, you three. You're meddling in things that don't concern you—it's dangerous. Forget about the big dog and what he's guarding. It's none of your business. It's a matter between Dumbledore and Nicolas." Between…"
"Aha! So a man named Nicolas is involved, right?" Harry asked, frustration colouring his voice.
Unsurprisingly, the three were promptly escorted out of Hagrid's hut.
On their way back to the castle, or rather, two of them—Harry and Ron—argued about what Fluffy might be guarding. It wasn't until they realized Hermione had remained silent the entire time.
"Hermione, what's the matter?"
"Nicolas Flamel... I have some memories of that name, but I can't recall where I've heard it." Hermione tugged at her hair in frustration.
"Maybe it's from a book you've read," Ron suggested kindly.
"Are you kidding?" Hermione rolled her eyes and dismissed Ron's suggestion.
"Perhaps we should head to the library. There might be information about Nicolas," Harry suggested.
Harry's words garnered immediate support from Ron, and Hermione agreed that since she couldn't remember it, researching in the library was a good idea. However, Hermione also had a better idea—asking Professor Binns directly. She was confident enough to bet her final exam grades that Binns would certainly know about this Nicolas Flamel. But her modest ego swiftly extinguished that thought.
"Alright," Hermione nodded. "Let's split up and search. Hopefully, we'll find something before dinner."
At Hogwarts, most staff and students remained unaware of the castle's underground secrets. The common rooms of Slytherin and Hufflepuff, the potions classroom, Snape's office, the kitchen, and numerous empty classrooms constituted the extent of what most knew.
Yet, Hogwarts' underground held more intrigue than just Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. The labyrinthine network of pipes connected various rooms, and through openings in the castle walls, they linked to rooms in above-ground buildings, even the common rooms of the four houses.
With each passage through these subterranean corridors, Salim couldn't help but be captivated by the unexplored mysteries. He yearned to unveil these secrets, but for now, the second basement floor marked his farthest limit due to his inability to navigate the way. However, today wasn't the day for unravelling these enigmas; it was a day for exploring Hogwarts. Future opportunities for exploration lay ahead. Today, he sought out Snape.
Snape's office was even drearier than the hallways, perpetually enshrouded in shadows. In stark contrast to the well-lit above-ground faculty offices, the sole sources of illumination here were the ceiling and a handful of candles on the tables—not all of which were lit. For a first-time visitor, this dark and chilling environment could easily evoke fear. No student who had found themselves confined to Snape's office would willingly return.
Closing the door behind him, Salim obediently followed Snape, who was limping, to the most illuminated area of the office—Snape's desk.
"Professor," Salim began as he watched Snape take a seat. "If your leg injury is proving difficult to heal, you might consider asking Dumbledore for some phoenix tears. They're more effective than most remedies." Phoenix tears were a potent healing substance, invaluable and beyond the reach of even a large sum of Galleons.
Snape glanced at Salim with unreadable eyes, saying nothing. As a student, Snape recognized that he couldn't be treated as just another pupil. The memory of the spell used by the student during the Halloween troll incident was still fresh in Snape's mind.
Despite Salim's initial exaggeration, the spell's scope and duration remained limited. As a seasoned wizard, Snape easily discerned the essence of this magic. Fiedfalsh was, at its core, a variant of Fiendfyre. Salim's casting method was more dangerous, unpredictable, and practical compared to the traditional Fiendfyre Curse.
Fiedfalsh required less magical power than the formidable Fiendfyre Curse, lacked the intricate manipulation required by the curse, and was marked by fewer uncertainties. It was sudden, lethal, and controllable. The mana consumption for casting Fiedfalsh was undoubtedly lower than that of the Fiendfyre Curse. This was an advanced and well-developed variant spell.
Severus Snape contemplated the Fiendflash that Salim had employed that night.
"Professor, the potion has matured after four refinements," Salim announced, presenting a draft he had prepared on the way there. "My current query pertains to the potential adverse effects of fully activated magical power on the human body. For instance…"
Snape interrupted Salim, uninterested in his rambling. "Don't you possess a ready test subject?"
"Well, in a manner of speaking…" Salim scratched his head. "But just as a precaution…"
"Your present experimental data stem from the same individual. If you possess knowledge of potion-making, you should be aware of the underlying risks…" Snape paused, "...latent dangers."
What response could Salim provide? Even a Muggle doctor comprehends that the efficacy of a medicine for one patient doesn't guarantee its efficacy for all patients. Squibs are rare, and Squibs like Filch or Sirna, who haven't experienced magical outbreaks due to unique reasons, are even rarer.
In the Muggle medical field, a new drug being produced and sold based solely on a single successful clinical case would undoubtedly lead to complications.
It appeared that Salim would have to contact his grandfather, and a visit back home during the break might be the best option. Despite his reluctance to return, the way that woman had gazed at him sent shivers down his spine. And the prospect of spending Christmas with a belligerent man and an exceedingly dull fellow wasn't inviting.
While the dull companion was bearable, the violent one, Dax, was a concern. Salim anticipated a confrontation with his abrasive brother; just the thought made him clench his teeth.
The issue wasn't that he couldn't face Dax—it was that he couldn't defeat him. It seemed the safest bet was to remain under his grandfather's watchful eye upon returning home, avoiding the woman's mockery and Dax's aggression.
Observing Salim shiver and grind his teeth, Snape refrained
from inquiring about his thoughts; he held no interest in such matters.
"I have fulfilled your request, so what about your promise?" Snape reminded Salim, his attention tethered to the commitment Salim had made. He had agreed to this task mainly due to the promise Salim had offered. As long as Salim kept his word, Snape wasn't concerned about the rest.
"Well, Professor, you have truly assisted me," Salim acknowledged, momentarily setting aside his irrelevant concerns. "I assure you, I'll uphold my end of the bargain. Rest assured, it will be accomplished, though I might require until the commencement of the second term to deliver the key item."
Salim pondered his words and decided to address Snape's inquiry first.
"But, Professor, there are preparations you must undertake yourself," Salim stated, his tone serious as he looked at Snape. "You will need to secure at least five individuals in poor health, with stronger souls being preferable."
Upon hearing Salim's words, Snape's typically unchanging expression betrayed a slight twitch. "Do you comprehend the gravity of what you're suggesting, Selwyn?"
Anticipating Snape's reaction, Salim remained undisturbed by the use of his full name. "This is the cost. The realms of the living and the deceased should not intersect. To breach this taboo, a price must be paid."
Salim retrieved a spellbook from under his robe—the authentic spellbook, distinct from the one he had lent Hermione.
The spellbook's cover consisted of an unfamiliar, sallow material that appeared greasy; candlelight and the fire's dance painted flickering patterns across it. Salim positioned the book facing him, drew his wand with his left hand, lightly incised his right wrist, and then placed his bleeding wrist atop the book's cover. Blood trickled from his wrist, gradually filling the heart-shaped pattern etched on the cover.
Observing Salim's actions, Snape maintained an outwardly impassive demeanour, though inwardly he was intrigued. Salim had executed a silent cutting spell when he harmed his wrist, but the truly remarkable aspect was his precise magical control—a wrong move could have severed his hand. Yet, Salim's incision depth was remarkably precise; it prevented excessive bleeding while ensuring sufficient flow.
A peculiar swallowing sound emanated from the spellbook on Snape's desk, evoking an involuntary twitch.
Salim's blood was absorbed by the cover, unveiling hidden veins that surfaced with the infusion of his blood. Snape then recognized that the cover's pattern depicted a heart.
"What is the significance of this?" Snape inquired, his curiosity finally compelling him to ask.
Salim treated his wound with a basic healing spell, though using a dragon staff for the purpose yielded subpar results—after all, the dragon staff excelled in combat.
"The magic book, the exclusive key that only Selwyn can activate," Salim elucidated, swiftly flipping open the book. "This tome is currently consuming my blood. When my blood is depleted, and you haven't finished reading, I'll need to reopen my wounds. Observe!"
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