Professor Flitwick often stressed the importance of precise pronunciation in spellcasting during his lessons.
But with so many students in class, he simply couldn't provide the meticulous, one-on-one guidance that Quirrell offered.
Inflection and elision, shifting mouth shapes, distinguishing between voiced and voiceless consonants, the strength and rhythm of each sound…
For Wyzett, it was a revelation—he'd never realized just how much went into proper spellwork.
He filled two entire pages with notes, each line packed with invaluable details.
"Professor McGonagall must've told you—focus and caution are essential for Transfiguration," Quirrell said, pausing to sip some water and soothe his throat. "It's just as true for incantations."
"Only with focus can your incantation be clear. Only with caution can you remain in control. And with Dark Magic, you must treat every syllable as if it could bite you."
"Is that because of wand backfire?" Wyzett asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.
He'd been studying a lot lately—even Ollivander's notes on wandmaking were among his readings.
"Exactly! In some areas, you're already ahead of many graduates." Quirrell's expression darkened suddenly. "Tell me… do the others ever give you trouble?"
"No." Wyzett shook his head lightly. "We get along well. We do homework together, and sometimes they come watch me practice."
"That's good." Quirrell let out a quiet sigh of relief. "Let's continue…"
As a curse, the Wasting Curse demanded special care—especially if you wanted to avoid magical backlash. Every detail mattered.
Wyzett was deeply grateful for Quirrell's open guidance. He never held back his questions—he owed it to his teacher to get everything right.
"The last step is casting," Quirrell said, his voice stretched thin, like a bowstring about to snap. "Let your imagination run wild…"
"Picture this snake stricken with plague—its scales falling away, skin beneath festering and oozing, death just moments away…"
Wyzett half-closed his eyes, building the gruesome image in his mind.
A chill crawled down his scalp, but he didn't hesitate. In a low, serpentine hiss, he intoned, "Mortem Morbos!"
A dull gray light shot from his wand, piercing the viper like an arrow.
Silently, the snake began to rot. In less than a heartbeat, it dissolved into a puddle of green, snot-like slime. The stench hit them instantly—overwhelming and foul.
"Evanesco!" Quirrell gagged, flicking his wand to vanish the mess and its nauseating odor.
Wyzett instinctively clutched his chest. Deep within, he felt the core of his Obscurus pulse twice—restless, almost hungry.
For a split second, a tide of dark thoughts threatened to swallow him—then, just as quickly, most of them vanished, leaving only a faint shiver in his heart.
Quirrell noticed at once. "Are you all right?"
Wyzett exhaled shakily. "My heart just skipped a couple of beats… Maybe it's because it's my first time casting Dark Magic?"
"The Obscurus…" Quirrell muttered, voice low. "So that's it."
Wyzett frowned. "What do you mean, 'that's it'?"
"You need to restrain yourself, Wyzett." Quirrell's face turned grave. "The Obscurus is both your gift and your curse."
"It'll amplify your Dark Magic, just like what you saw with that snake. But it'll also stir up the Obscurus's own malice… You have to be extra careful when working with Dark Magic!"
After these two sessions, Wyzett could truly appreciate Quirrell's mastery of magical theory. "Professor Quirrell, is there any way to get rid of this effect?"
"My advice…" Quirrell pondered for a moment. "Focus only on the incantation and your wandwork. Don't picture the details. That should help."
He summoned another viper. "You could also try Occlumency. If you manage to master it… but that's a very advanced art. I'm afraid I can't teach you."
"Thank you, Professor Quirrell!" Wyzett said earnestly. "Let me try the first method—Mortem Morbos!"
Quirrell's judgment was spot-on. Without the vivid imagery, the Wasting Curse lost much of its bite.
The snake shed half its scales and oozed pus, but it was still alive—barely.
Even so, Quirrell was impressed. "The Obscurus gives you a remarkable boost! Even without the images, your magic's still formidable!"
Maybe it was his usual stutter in class, but Quirrell seemed to treasure these private lessons all the more.
Ignoring his sore throat, he delved deep into the intricacies of compound magic, recommending book after book.
…
At 1:50 p.m. on Sunday, Wyzett stood outside Snape's office.
"Come in, now!" Snape's voice rang out, cold and abrupt. "Punctual. Good."
Compared to Quirrell's blend of theory and practice, Snape's teaching was stripped-down and direct.
A magical energy field filled the office, packed with all manner of ingredients.
Magical plants, animal parts—everything you could imagine was here.
None of it was processed. The animal bits were still slick with blood, some even twitching faintly—fresh as could be.
"Which materials can you handle?" Snape asked.
Wyzett stepped forward, scanning the table. "Dittany, shrivelfig, bouncing toadstool, gurdyroot, dirigible plum—I've worked with all those at home."
Luna tended the garden daily, and often had him help with magical plants. They'd sell the harvest in Diagon Alley to help with expenses.
"Good," Snape replied, his tone glacial. "Go and process those dragon organs."
Having spent some time at Hogwarts, Wyzett wasn't the least bit surprised by Snape's orders.
He rolled up his sleeves and stepped into the magical field, shivering as the chill hit him.
"How does it feel?" Snape asked, voice still icy.
"A bit cold." Wyzett spread his palms, feeling the air, then took a deep breath.
"Temperature's just above freezing. Humidity's perfect. Not stuffy at all—ideal for preserving ingredients."
"I'll teach you the spell for this field," Snape said. "Practice it at home. Next time, you'll maintain the energy field yourself."
"Can I use it in my own work? Or is it just for ingredient prep—"
"Use it however you want. Just don't embarrass me!" Snape's tone softened by a hair. "Do you know the Severing Charm?"
Wyzett nodded. "Yes! I've practiced it a lot lately."
"Then get to work. Use the Severing Charm to slice the membrane off the dragon liver—" Snape drew his wand, watching closely.
"Too rough! Do you think dragon liver's as cheap as pig liver? Congratulations—pigs would agree with you…"
"Pierce from the hollow of the kidney! The green lumps are deadly poison. Either cut them out with the Severing Charm or lick them clean. Not a trace left, understand?"
"What are you doing? You can't just grab the dragon heart like that! There's dragon heartstring blood inside—absolutely precious! Are you planning to sell yourself to Hogwarts to pay off your debts?"
At last, Wyzett understood why students from every House spoke of Snape with a shudder.
This was a teaching style only the strong-willed could survive.
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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