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Harry Potter: The Last Scion of Sprout - 251
🕑 Added 2025-09-19 20:00:04 +0000 UTCChapter 251: Turning Point, Destiny, and Miracle
Looking at the lightning constantly streaking across the sky, Ciel's previously confused thoughts suddenly became clear.
"I don't know if the being in the Delia Island temple has prepared any countermeasures for my power theft." He traced patterns in the mud with his finger, organising his thoughts. "Can't guess what might be prepared either."
"Guessing at their methods doesn't really matter. After all, with my limited experience and magical knowledge, how could I possibly match wits with something that's existed in the magical world for so long? Their magical methods are likely beyond my imagination."
He paused, watching another bolt of lightning illuminate the dark sky.
"Therefore, I might as well cut straight to the essence." His voice grew more determined. "What are my advantages in confronting such ancient beings?"
"Undoubtedly, it's my exceptional vitality and recovery ability. As long as they can't kill me in one strike, I can recover. Each trial even makes my Legendary Life shine brighter."
The rain intensified, but he barely noticed.
"On the other hand, the being in the Delia Island temple must be in poor condition. Otherwise it wouldn't need to hide on Delia Island, barely surviving through the Quintaped population. Last time when I stole some power, it was extremely agitated."
Lightning flashed again, closer this time.
"Even if it has arrangements this time, how much power can it actually invest? Therefore, I can't engage in small skirmishes with it. I need to adopt a desperate stance and make big moves that it can't afford to gamble against."
He stood up, rainwater streaming down his face.
"Additionally, lightning's a key factor. No matter what methods it has, last time already proved that ancient weather magic driven by natural will has restraining effects on its magic. And not just ordinary restraint either."
Taking a deep breath, he felt the pieces clicking into place. With this understanding, perhaps he could see the turning point. Now was exactly the thunderstorm season in the Scottish Highlands. The timing was on his side.
However, despite having made up his mind, he didn't dare be careless about lightning. Even though he'd obtained Diamond-level limb regeneration abilities with recovery speed incomparable to before, lightning was a force of nature. Even with his enhanced Legendary Life, he couldn't guarantee he could withstand it.
He wanted to make a big show, using violence against violence, crushing all arrangements in the Delia Island temple with absolute power. But this didn't mean he truly wanted to risk a near-death situation.
Before taking action, necessary preparations and auxiliary measures needed to be ready.
Through the pattering rain, he returned to Hogwarts. In the cold, empty castle where only rain could be heard, he saw a familiar figure sitting silently in the downpour, emanating unprecedented gloom and heaviness.
He paused. "Professor Snape?"
His eyes showed confusion and bewilderment. To ensure students' safe return home, Dumbledore and all professors had mobilised completely, determined to safely deliver every young wizard to their families this year.
As Slytherin Head, Snape's students were mostly from magical families, nearly half with house-elves, making pickup extremely convenient. While other professors were still busy, Snape could return to Hogwarts early. That wasn't strange.
But why sit alone in the rain?
He'd never seen Snape like this, seemingly revealing deep fear.
Perhaps due to the loud rain and his distracted state, Snape didn't hear his call. His gaze stared blankly at the rain curtain.
In his mind, scenes from the Forbidden Forest incident replayed constantly. Under Quirrell's robes, that familiar, terrifying face had been absent for eleven years. He'd even prayed for Voldemort to truly disappear forever from the magical world.
But this moment had finally come.
He'd held a sliver of hope that Voldemort, rushing to seize the Philosopher's Stone, wouldn't notice him. But when those cold, merciless eyes swept over him, Snape felt like an insect stuck in a spider's web. That sense of powerlessness before fate.
A cold voice echoed in his mind, carrying subtle appreciation and mockery:
"Very good, very good, Snape. You've become Slytherin's Head. I imagine you've worked hard to earn Dumbledore's trust. You've also put considerable effort into protecting the Philosopher's Stone. Look at you, so many sleepless nights."
"So do you remember which side you're really on? Snape, continue lurking. When the time's right, I'll give you instructions. Wait for when the Dark Mark burns hot again."
Even after several days, that voice still echoed clearly in his mind. Even his unparalleled Occlumency mastery allowed him to resist the accompanying bewitching magic, but the fear from within continued spreading.
Without any luck remaining, he was ultimately walking this path. Dumbledore wanted him to gain Voldemort's trust and pass intelligence. Voldemort hoped he'd lurk beside Dumbledore, waiting for his return to play a crucial role.
Caught between the magical world's two supreme wizards, unable to fully rely on either side. Like walking on a high wire suspended in the sky with no end. Falling and being crushed was inevitable.
Though he'd long told himself this was fate, atonement for Lily, when fate's wheels truly began turning and he moved closer to destruction each moment, even Snape felt pain, fear, and despair.
He was, after all, human.
Just then, a sudden call penetrated the rain curtain, reaching his ears. He instantly leaped up like an overstretched spring. His wand tip even had invisible blades gathering, tearing apart the rain curtain with magical force.
But seeing the face before him, Snape frowned, his overly intense reaction calming down as he returned to his usual appearance.
"Ciel Sprout." His voice dripped with familiar sarcasm. "Hasn't anyone taught you not to suddenly speak to people? I don't recall you being so impolite. Or have small achievements made you think you needn't follow social etiquette?"
Familiar sarcasm and venom reached his ears, but Ciel shook his head, looking at Snape with concern. "Professor, I called you several times already. You look... very unwell."
Snape's cold smile suddenly froze, like his disguise had been exposed. Irritation and anger flashed across his face as more vicious poison brewed in his heart, ready to spill out.
But seeing the care and worry in Ciel's eyes, the poison ultimately became a long, powerless sigh.
Snape calmed down without saying much, simply gesturing. "Follow me."
Ciel didn't ask questions as two figures walked through the rain curtain into Hogwarts castle, heading to the underground Potions classroom. The same one where he'd first assisted Snape with Flobberworms.
Seeing this place brought nostalgic feelings to his eyes.
Snape took out a cauldron, methodically organising the desk surface step by step, arranging basic potion materials like Flobberworms neatly.
Ciel showed surprise. He knew these preparations intimately. These were the steps for brewing Scabies Potion from the first Potions class?
Snape brought him here just to brew Scabies Potion?
Then he noticed something crucial: all basic materials for Scabies Potion were present except the most vital porcupine quills.
What was Snape trying to do?
Snape didn't keep him guessing. "Do you remember the Severus Potion Transfiguration I taught you?"
"Starting today, during summer vacation when you have time, I can give you additional guidance. This technique's very difficult. Learn what you can."
His voice was quieter than usual, almost hesitant. "Now, watch my operations carefully."
Then, with fluid movements, Snape added various potion ingredients to the cauldron.
Ciel watched silently, his magical perception now incomparably superior to before, capable of sensing even microscopic magical particles. But the more advanced he became, the more he could appreciate how masterful each of Snape's manipulations truly was.
He felt the cauldron wasn't bubbling with pungent potion, but rather a musical composition being performed. Each magical particle seemed like a musical note, emanating joyful movement.
Obviously, this composition still lacked the most crucial melody. After all, porcupine quills were the most essential part of Scabies Potion, their magic indispensable.
Then Snape reminded him again, his voice uncharacteristically urgent. "Watch carefully. Try to sense everything. Learn whatever you can."
His wand lightly tapped the cauldron rim, injecting a trace of magic into the potion. Then, like a chemical reaction, the potion that hadn't received porcupine quills somehow generated the magic unique to porcupine quills through countless magical particle collisions and changes.
Soon, a perfect Scabies Potion appeared before him.
Having seen Snape use this Severus Potion Transfiguration before, he was still amazed witnessing it again. Creating this technique proved Snape had reached extraordinary heights in both potions and magic.
If not for his early death in the original story, his achievements might have been much higher.
While he marvelled, Snape left the classroom to him. "These materials are for the next three days. After today, come to my office with any questions."
After speaking, Snape hurried away. Walking away, his previously overwhelming emotions had calmed considerably.
Perhaps fate was truly inescapable, but at least he'd tried to leave something behind. That boy... lucky him.
His lips still curved into a subtle smile.
Meanwhile, in the classroom, watching Snape's departed figure, Ciel sighed softly. He seemed to understand why Snape's mood was so terrible, emanating dejection and even fear buried deep within.
"Fate, huh..."
Just like in the original story, Harry's destiny was predetermined. He had to die once. Snape's fate was determined even earlier.
But in the original, readers only saw Snape's unwavering march toward death, making them forget that Snape was also human. In lonely, desolate moments unseen by others, Snape also felt fear and lamentation.
Previously teaching him Severus Potion Transfiguration, now urging him to continue practising this technique. Snape seemed to have accepted his destined ending, just wanting to leave something behind.
Thinking this, his emotions became complex. His attitude toward Snape had evolved from initial disdain and disgust.
After all, early-story Snape was indeed quite detestable. Terrible teaching methods, constant venom, undisguised favouritism toward Slytherin, and perpetually greasy unwashed hair. There wasn't much to like.
But unconsciously, "It seems I owe Snape too many favours to count."
Exhaling softly, he looked at the cauldron before him, his gaze gradually becoming determined. Trying to teach him Severus Potion Transfiguration. Was Professor Snape planning to accept fate?
But he hadn't agreed yet.
Perhaps the original's destiny was predetermined, but this time, he was here. Some things should change.
To prove this to Snape would start with mastering this technique.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. The various potion materials on the workbench immediately appeared in his perception as points of magical light.
Adding ingredients to the cauldron by category, stirring, harmonising. Each magic type achieved the most harmonious state possible with others.
If other students saw his current potion operations, they'd be stunned, as it bore no resemblance to textbook procedures. This was the essence of potions he'd learnt from Snape. Not cumbersome procedures, but precise, elegant, harmonious expression of each ingredient's magic.
Now his magical mastery made his performance somewhat respectable, even faintly resembling Snape. But he knew these were just appetisers. Preliminary Scabies Potion operations.
The real difficulty was using Severus Potion Transfiguration to create something from nothing through magical property changes without porcupine quills. Such operations left even current him uncertain, requiring extremely high magical perception and Transfiguration mastery.
On his system panel, the Severus Potion Transfiguration text, though clear, wasn't completely covered by Iron-level lustre. Still short of Iron level.
"Let's try."
His concentration became unprecedented, entering a flow state. His wand tapped the bubbling cauldron surface, carefully injecting magic.
He couldn't match Snape's casual ease. Even with basic Scabies Potion, the contained magical properties were numerous and constantly changing. Grasping these made his forehead bead with sweat.
Simultaneously completing magical property transformations and generating porcupine quill magic through particle collisions nearly blurred his vision. Every moment brought enormous mental pressure.
Soon, he caught that fleeting opportunity, tapping his wand again.
A soft sound followed, but instead of Scabies Potion's lustre, a pool of coal-black unknown liquid appeared. Obviously, this attempt failed.
But he showed no emotional fluctuation, silently digesting the failure experience before cleaning the cauldron to prevent magical particle interference with subsequent brewing.
Then he resumed this difficult potion-making, materials steadily decreasing while he seemed separated from success by an insurmountable barrier. Attempt after attempt brought failure, failure, and more failure.
The instantaneous myriad magical property transformations during potion boiling were too difficult to grasp. His temples began throbbing. Such precise work created excessive mental burden, causing splitting headaches.
But his gaze never relaxed, only glancing at the system panel. These failures weren't without gain. At least Severus Potion Transfiguration's text had become increasingly clear, with an iron-level lustre spreading across the characters. Getting closer to Iron Level.
Then he refocused on the cauldron. Perhaps with other matters he could take his time, but today he had compelling reasons to succeed.
Taking a deep breath, rubbing his temples until the throbbing pain slightly eased, he resumed wand work.
Continue...
The materials Snape estimated for three days had unknowingly dwindled to the final portion. When he absently reached aside, only one set remained.
Taking a deep breath, he activated the Bubble-Head Charm, bringing magical perception and strength to peak enhancement. Even his nearly exhausted mental state revitalised.
His gaze fell on the system panel. Severus Potion Transfiguration's Iron lustre needed just one final trace.
He focused with unprecedented intensity. "This time... it must succeed."
In his office, Snape glanced up from his research, frowning at the time. "That boy should've finished long ago."
Severus Potion Transfiguration practice was extremely mentally demanding. Grasping so many magical transformations every moment. As its creator, Snape understood this perfectly, having fainted multiple times from exhaustion while developing it.
Mastering this technique required not only exceptional talent but also superhuman effort and perseverance.
Ciel still hadn't come to him. With anyone else, Snape would assume they'd given up from frustration and repeated failures.
But with him... remembering the little badger's previous sleepless work, Snape stood up, hurrying toward the Potions classroom.
"That fool. Already lacking talent, yet so desperate. Does he expect to learn it in one day?!"
Cursing his overambition, while his steps grew increasingly urgent until he reached the classroom door, pushed it open, and saw Ciel gasping, collapsed on the floor.
"You fool! You should be grateful you're young enough to avoid a stroke!"
Sharp mockery spilt out, but unexpectedly, Ciel smiled brilliantly, pointing toward the cauldron.
Snape's heart suddenly raced as an impossible thought flashed through his mind. "Impossible... How could it be..."
But on the workbench, in the cauldron, appeared a poor-quality but unmistakably genuine Scabies Potion.
Snape stood frozen while Ciel smiled brilliantly: "Professor, look. What's that saying? Magic's idealistic. With sufficient belief, miracles happen, don't they?"
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