Sean lowered his wand, the greenish glow of the Imperius Curse fading from its tip. He reinforced the spell on Marwood, ensuring his loyalty was ironclad. Sneaking out of Hogwarts had paid off—Marwood's mind, fully open under the curse's sway, would remain under Sean's control for weeks. The Hogsmeade meeting had secured his outside ally, a crucial step in his plans.
Even without the Imperius Curse, Marwood would obey Sean, his devotion to the "Dark Lord" unshakable. But Sean wasn't one for risks. A stray doubt or an unexpected betrayal could unravel everything. Maintaining the curse ensured Marwood stayed predictable, a pawn in Sean's careful game.
"Marwood, if you have nothing else to do, take him away," Sean said, nodding at the black wizard, still glassy-eyed from the Imperius Curse. "I've given him orders to follow your instructions. Remember to cast the Imperius Curse on him regularly. If you get the chance, use it on those wizards who don't listen to you to ensure they obey your orders."
"As you command, great Master," Marwood replied, his voice thick with reverence.
Sean met Marwood's awed gaze, and dark mist surged from his body, coiling like a living shadow. His feet left the ground, the mist wrapping him in a swirling cloak as he rose into the air. With a thought, he shot upward, vanishing into the night sky, leaving only a faint trail of mist in his wake.
Marwood stared after Sean, his heart pounding with awe. Fleeting flight—the Dark Lord's signature, a mark of supremacy no ordinary wizard could claim. To Marwood, it was proof of his Master's unmatched power, a glimpse of the legend reborn.
He bowed deeply toward the direction Sean had vanished, then straightened, turning to the black wizard with a sneer. "Lucky you're still breathing," he muttered. The wizard's defiance had been foolish, spared only by the Master's need for bodies. Any other day, he'd be a corpse under a darker spell.
"Come with me," Marwood ordered. "When you return, tell them you found nothing. Write down the names of those who complain most about me and the Dark Lord and report them to me secretly. Understood?"
"Understood," the wizard droned, his voice hollow under the curse's grip.
Marwood raised his hand, and with a sharp crack of Apparition, he and the black wizard vanished from the hill. The wizard, a lowlife even among dark wizards, couldn't Apparate himself—most of Marwood's recent recruits were this sort, scrappy and unskilled, clinging to the Dark Lord's faded glory.
Sean, meanwhile, limped from the Whomping Willow's secret passage, wincing with each step. The tree's gnarled branches loomed above, still as the tunnel's exit sealed shut. His flight from Hogsmeade had been thrilling, the dark mist carrying him smoothly through the sky. But landing? A disaster. He'd lost balance, crashing to the ground near the Willow's roots. Thanks to his Troll Spiked Hide, his skin was tough enough to escape with just a sprained ankle. A normal wizard would've snapped a leg.
He clicked his tongue, annoyed. Flying was one thing, but landing needed work. Can't waste this ability, he thought. Crashing mid-duel would be a joke—imagine the enemy laughing themselves to death before I even cast a spell.
Under a Disillusionment Charm, Sean hobbled toward Hogwarts Castle, his form blending into the night. The Whomping Willow stood between Hagrid's hut and the greenhouse, its silhouette menacing in the moonlight. In the distance, Hagrid's pumpkin patch glowed faintly, the oversized gourds casting odd shadows. As Sean glanced away, a small figure darted from near Hagrid's hut, sprinting across the patch toward the castle.
The figure passed close, oblivious to Sean's charmed invisibility. He squinted, catching a glimpse of red hair—Ginny Weasley, Ron and the twins' sister. Her movements were frantic, almost panicked. Sean's hand tightened around a feather he'd found on the ground. A chicken feather, likely from Hagrid's coop.
His mind raced. Ginny was tied to the diary, the key to the Chamber of Secrets. He recalled the story's outline: Ginny, controlled by the diary, opened the Chamber and unleashed the Basilisk. Was she under its sway now? The feather suggested she'd been near the coop, perhaps acting on the diary's orders.
Sean didn't know if the diary needed to be on her person to control her. When he'd spotted her, he'd held back, wary of tipping his hand. If Ginny carried the diary when releasing the Basilisk, it would be his chance to seize it. The Basilisk answered only to Slytherin's heir, and Ginny, despite her Parseltongue snippets, wasn't one. The diary's soul fragment likely guided her, making it essential for such acts.
He'd briefly considered using the Imperius Curse on a Gryffindor girl to steal the diary but dismissed it instantly. Controlling dark wizards or enemies was one thing—Sean had no qualms there—but an innocent like Ginny? That was a line he wouldn't cross. His goals didn't justify such cruelty.
Besides, the Imperius Curse wasn't foolproof. Victims sometimes sensed the control, and if Sean didn't silence them permanently, discovery was likely. Using it in Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's watchful eye, was madness—even Voldemort might've hesitated.
Sean's thoughts turned to the Basilisk's release. He vaguely recalled Harry finding the Heir's message after a ghost's party—likely Nearly Headless Nick's deathday. If he scouted Moaning Myrtle's bathroom that day, he could catch the diary in play.
Back in the Slytherin common room, Sean slipped into his room, the "Purity" password still echoing in his mind. He pulled a vial of healing potion from his trunk, pouring it over his sprained ankle. A cool tingle spread, easing the pain. He rubbed it gently, feeling the injury mend, then rolled down his trouser leg and slipped on his shoes.
He reached for Kurkan, who lay coiled on his bed, and draped the snake-like creature around his waist, its scales cool against his shoulder. Picking up a book—Advanced Charm Theory—he settled in to read.
But at this moment, Kurkan, who had been lying quietly and comfortably on Sean's shoulder, suddenly raised his head. His originally comfortable and gentle eyes became sharp and fierce. He turned his head to look at a certain location outside the room, and kept making a hissing sound from his mouth, as if he was intimidating something, or as if he was on guard.
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To all my Indian readers — wishing you a joyful and love-filled Raksha Bandhan! May this special day strengthen the bonds of love and protection between you and your siblings, and bring warmth and happiness to your hearts.