"I've healed all the Diricawls!" Wyzett announced, producing a vial of venom from his pocket. "I recognized the Acromantula venom right away—I've handled it before."
"Oh… is that so?" Hagrid let out a long breath, relief flickering across his face as he forced a change of subject. "Still, it's incredible you managed to heal those Diricawls!"
Since returning from the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid seemed weighed down by some private worry. His face was drawn, his eyes shadowed with concern. As for the Acromantula venom, he showed not the slightest interest—he simply told Wyzett to keep it for himself.
The Forest was far from peaceful these days. Every so often, Hagrid would venture deep beneath its boughs and return with an injured magical creature or two, asking Wyzett for help with their wounds.
Wyzett never refused. Each time he helped, he had another chance to collect precious Acromantula venom—a double reward. Not only that, but Hagrid pressed a bundle of unicorn hair bandages into his hands as payment.
"We agreed on this, didn't we?" Hagrid insisted, pushing the bandages back to him. "You help me patch up the creatures, I give you the bandages. Even if I used them myself, they'd take days to heal—nothing like your magic. You keep them!"
Another week slipped by, filled with study and practice.
Between tracing the magical circuits of the Diricawls, poring over the notes of Dumbledore and Grindelwald, reviewing composite spells, and keeping up with Quidditch training, Wyzett was constantly pressed for time. There was always more to learn—he often wished he could break time into pieces, just to fit it all in.
He also needed to revise his article about the Halloween troll, hoping to finish it before the Christmas holidays.
Before he knew it, the weekend arrived, and Wyzett made his way to Professor Quirrell's office as promised.
Telling himself to act as though nothing had happened was easier said than done. When the moment came, he found it surprisingly difficult. He arrived half an hour early, pacing up and down the corridor for ages before finally steadying his nerves enough to knock.
He set the silver items carefully on the desk and said, with quiet formality, "Thank you for your help, Professor Quirrell."
"Mm." Quirrell barely acknowledged him, his tone cold and distant.
Maybe it was just nerves, but Wyzett couldn't shake the feeling that Quirrell looked worse than ever. His face was chalky, his eyes bloodshot, sweat beading on his brow—a man under immense strain.
"Professor Quirrell, you don't look well…" Wyzett ventured, as he always did. "Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey?"
"No need…" Quirrell managed a ghastly smile. "It's just the cold. I haven't… quite adjusted yet."
He let out a long breath, refusing to meet Wyzett's eyes. "Sit. Let's begin. Today, we're learning a more complex composite curse—the Strangling Shriek Curse."
The Strangling Shriek Curse was a powerful curse—one that could be cast directly with a lengthy incantation, or embedded within an object to act as a deadly trap. Opal was the ideal vessel, able to unleash the spell's full potential.
To demonstrate, Quirrell had prepared an opal pendant, already enchanted with the curse. He tied it to a venomous snake, and the moment the opal touched the snake's belly, the creature went limp, consciousness draining away.
Then, the snake floated up into the air, writhing and emitting a piercing, agonized hiss. Its body twisted and contorted, suspended helplessly midair.
Five minutes later, after a harrowing struggle, the snake hung lifeless—strangled by invisible force, its suffering ended only in death.
The demonstration was as cruel as the curse's name suggested. Watching life ended in such a way sent a chill down Wyzett's spine.
Quirrell looked even worse—sweat dripped down his temples, veins bulging at his brow, as though he were fighting some internal torment.
He didn't pause to recover, but forced himself to continue, voice hoarse but determined. "As you saw, this composite curse combines several effects. First, it renders the victim unconscious. Then, it levitates them—while they scream uncontrollably—until… until the victim is tortured to death…"
His words faltered, stammering as his face turned ghostly pale.
Wyzett exhaled softly, struggling to keep his composure. He tried to imagine how he'd ask questions if he truly knew nothing.
"Professor Quirrell, do we really need to keep learning curses? The Wasting Curse seems more than enough… And you said yourself, I'm not really suited for curses."
"Yes… yes, I did tell you that." Quirrell nodded, hesitating before pressing on. "Dark magic is just another form of magic… It happens to be my specialty."
He forced a weak smile. "Didn't you learn the Levitation Charm? The Strangling Shriek Curse includes an advanced form of it—that's what makes the victim float."
"This composite curse… it weaves together extensions of the Levitation Charm, the Stunning Spell, and the Full Body-Bind Curse…"
At last, he seemed to find his rhythm, launching into a detailed breakdown of the curse's structure.
If you ignored Quirrell's worrying state, the lesson itself was fascinating. Just the discussion of the Levitation Charm and its extensions was eye-opening for Wyzett.
It deepened his understanding of levitation magic, and opened a new page in The Wizard's Practical Combat Guide.
Ancient Magic: Soaring Charm: Incantation "Læviasa". By channeling Ancient Magic, the spell's power was vastly increased, allowing him to lift even large creatures—much like the Enhanced Summoning Charm, but more direct and forceful.
The incantation was shorter and more potent than the standard Levitation Charm—and, most remarkably, Wyzett had acquired it without using up any of his Ancient Magic reserves.
As the sun set, the lesson drew to a close.
Quirrell looked utterly spent, slumping in his chair as though all strength had left him.
"Professor Quirrell, are you sure you're alright? Should I take you to the Hospital Wing?" Wyzett asked, concern genuine.
"No!" Quirrell refused, voice cracking. "I'll be fine… after I eat something. You should go. Go now!"
Wyzett nodded. "Thank you, Professor Quirrell."
As he reached for the door, he glanced back, leaving a Chocolate Frog on the desk.
Quirrell's face was more ashen than ever, twisted in pain. He noticed the Chocolate Frog, and his voice grew resolute, even as he waved Wyzett away, teeth gritted. "Go!"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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