54 CHAPTER 54

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CHAPTER 54

Elmi had one more thing to say and waited for Snape to finish lecturing. Then he said, "The Headmaster read my surface thoughts and knows about my unique spells. He will most likely ask you about this in your next private meeting."

Snape was uncomfortable about the students knowing he was working for Dumbledore, but this caused him to realize they were slacking off, thinking they were safe inside Hogwarts.

"Don't worry, I cannot talk about you because of the oath, but I have to tell him something; I can't say I didn't know."

Elmi nodded, "You can just tell him the truth; I learned those from a family grimoire." 

Something came to Elmi's mind, "Can Dumbledore see your memories with Legilimency?"

Snape shook his head, "No, he cannot. It is tough to read someone who is trained in Occlumency because you cannot know what is real and what is fabrication. Even if he was stronger than me at mind arts, mind arts are not all-powerful; if so, we wouldn't need wizard trials, and all those people who claimed to be mind-controlled by Voldemort wouldn't be freed."

It was obvious he remembered something unpleasant: "There is a reason Voldemort was really good at reading minds because first, he would break someone by torturing them to the point of death to deplete their will. Then, he could be sure they wouldn't have any will to use any trick to prevent his mind reading. If you are trained, even a teenager could close their mind against the dark lord if they have enough talent in the arts." 

Snape looked at Elmi with pride in his eyes, "So, as a master in mind arts, as long as my will is not broken, no one can read my mind and be sure what they saw is the truth."

...

 The Headmaster's office was dimly lit, the soft glow emanating from the various magical instruments and devices scattered around the room. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his piercing blue eyes scrutinizing the two professors standing before him.

Severus Snape, with his usual air of brooding, stood beside Minerva McGonagall, who wore a stern expression. The air in the room crackled with tension as Dumbledore broke the silence. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, stroking his long white beard. 

"Severus, Minerva, as you have witnessed, my intuition about the Dark Lord's return was not unfounded. As he managed to stay alive, he will find a way to reclaim his body."

Snape nodded, and McGonagall, arms crossed, spoke up. "What concerns me is the involvement of our students, particularly Elmi."

Dumbledore nodded, acknowledging her concern. "Ah, young Elminster. A remarkable talent, to be sure. He displayed an unprecedented level of skill and cast spells I have never seen before. Severus, what can you tell us about his abilities?"

"He is intelligent and hardworking. I will never say this to his face, but he is the most talented person I have ever seen, and his spells are from the grimoires of his family. During one of his expeditions to Africa, his father found one of the grimoires in a cave under an ancient city. As far as he told me, there isn't any powerful spell in it, but it has many unique spells. Especially that invisibility spell is really versatile, and the rest of his spells are from other family grimoires they have." 

McGonagall added, "His mother is a responsible person. If she is allowing him to read it, it means there isn't any dark spell in it."

Dumbledore, looking serious, continued, "We must ensure he receives the guidance he needs. His potential is vast, but uncontrolled power can be dangerous."

Snape nodded approvingly to what Dumbledore said, adding, "I will continue to train him and monitor his development, and if I see him going down the wrong path, I will inform you."

Dumbledore nodded. "Keep me informed, Severus. And Minerva, we must be vigilant. Elminster's role in the events to come may be more significant than we realize. He has too much sway over his friends."

McGonagall interjected, "If we are finished with the children, let's return to the more important question: why did Quirrell's body turn into dust upon Harry's touch?"

Dumbledore already had a good guess about this and said, "I had multiple guesses of what happened in Potters' home in Godric's Hollow, and today's event proved one of them to be true."

Snape had a sorrowful look on his face, and Dumbledore continued,

"I think Lily performed an ancient protection charm on Harry. It has many names. Some people call it Sacrificial Protection or Loving Sacrifice, and a better-known name is the Ultimate Protection charm."

McGonagall remembered reading about this spell, so she said, "But that means..." Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, technically speaking, Voldemort didn't kill her. She had already sacrificed her life for her son. Even if he didn't end her life, she would have died in a few minutes."

They admired Lily's sacrifice; Dumbledore added, "This spell is not that well known because of its high requirement to successfully cast it; it is almost impossible. To successfully cast, you need to sacrifice yourself willingly and without waiting for anything in return from anyone, and this is the first requirement; the second one is harder."

Both of them listened to him with full attention. "You need to sacrifice yourself without even a moment of hesitation. The spell will fail if you carry an iota of hesitation in your heart." Snape turned away from McGonagall as tears started to dribble down his eyes, and McGonagall was moved by Lily's actions, too. Dumbledore sighed deeply.

"To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved him is gone, would still leave their protection behind. That is what turned Quirrell's arm to dust. The protection activated when Harry touched him because he was sharing his body with Voldemort. Voldemort must have sacrificed Quirinus' life force to combine with him. That is why Quirinus died upon Voldemort leaving his body." After that, they continued their discussion about what to do now that they knew for sure Voldemort was not dead.

...

The Hogwarts infirmary was quiet, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the windows. Madam Pomfrey had done her best to mend Elmi's and his companions' physical wounds, but the echoes of their recent encounter lingered in the air.

As Elmi lay in his bed, the events against Voldemort replayed in his dreams. The vivid memory of the green light rushing toward him sent shivers down his spine. He jolted awake, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead.

Seeking solace, Elmi rose from his bed and made his way to the small table where a jug of water awaited. The cool liquid provided a momentary relief as he contemplated the thin line between life and death, how close he was to death.

Returning to his bed, Elmi closed his eyes, hoping for a peaceful slumber. However, the night held something different for him as he drifted into the realm of dreams; a new and unfamiliar magic unveiled itself—the Lore of Death.

Also known as Shyish, it blows strongest wherever death must be faced or endings take place. In this ethereal space, Elmi found himself standing on the edge of Shyish, the magical winds of death swirling around him. It was a dimension woven into the very fabric of mortality, and he sensed the presence of the Imperial Amethyst Order, guardians of the delicate balance between life and death.

The Amethyst Order, ancient sorcerers and scholars of Shyish, appeared as spectral figures, their purple robes billowing in the wind. They beckoned Elmi forward, guiding him through the arcane mysteries of the Lore of Death. The Amethyst Order spoke of the inevitability of death, the cycle of souls, and the unseen threads that connected the living and the departed. Elmi felt an otherworldly power coursing through him, a gift or perhaps a curse.

In this ephemeral realm, he learned of the Shyish's influence on the magical currents that governed the end of all things. The Amethyst Order imparted knowledge of the manipulation of spirits. Eventually, Elmi awoke, the first light of dawn casting a gentle glow on the infirmary walls. The Lore of Death and the visions of Shyish and the Amethyst Order lingered in his thoughts, leaving an indelible mark on his magical consciousness.