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HP: I have a Proficiency Panel - 146
🕑 Added 2025-12-18 16:36:56 +0000 UTCChapter 146: Scarpin’s Revelaspell
“Fine, let’s just say it’s important.”
Michael looked utterly incredulous as he turned to Shawn. “Shawn, promise me this. One Ravenclaw counting windows is more than enough.”
Shawn went quiet, thinking. Then his eyes suddenly lit up.
“Terry, may I ask…”
“Yes, yes,” Michael answered, resigned. “He trained Scarpin’s Revelaspell up to nonverbal level, so now he spends his days studying the different materials in the castle’s windows. Can you believe it? Sometimes even the rain isn’t made of the same material.”
“Sometimes the rain really is different,” Terry insisted.
“Right. Of course. Absolutely,” Michael soothed, as if calming a child.
The corner of Shawn’s mouth lifted slightly. It looked like he had found a way.
The Great Hall.
December had not even arrived yet, and Hogwarts had already been hit by gales and sleet. At times like these, the castle’s roaring fires and thick stone walls always made the students feel safe.
As Shawn talked with Terry about Scarpin’s Revelaspell, he realised this odd Ravenclaw was actually shy and modest.
Terry chased bizarre questions, but he never treated them as idle talk. The castle windows really did use different materials, and Terry even declared, “Shawn, do not laugh at me. What I mean is, the castle is alive.”
After saying it, he looked at Shawn warily. Usually, at this point, other students either tried to hold in laughter or simply looked confused.
“I believe you,” Shawn said, nodding.
Terry let out a startled sound. “I am not joking. Wait, you believe me?”
“Why would I not?” Shawn’s sincerity was plain to hear.
Terry looked as if he had been struck by lightning, then words poured out of him in a rush. “You believe me, Merlin’s beard. Then you have noticed it too, have you not? In some halls, the order of the tables changes in a pattern. They do not keep the same arrangement all the time.”
“And other rooms and areas change in patterns as well. The size and shape of some places shift…”
Shawn listened, thoughtful, and nodded along.
It was true. There were subtle changes even in the Potions classroom. In the dungeons, Shawn always felt them more keenly.
If the castle had awareness, for instance, the way it once shut Umbridge out of the Headmaster’s office, then it seemed possible that it was constantly shifting.
Terry’s enthusiasm flared with rare intensity. He talked without stopping, and Shawn listened carefully.
After a while, Terry went red, suddenly embarrassed. Why had he been talking about himself the whole time?
Seizing the last few minutes, he carefully explained, step by step, the trick to learning Scarpin’s Revelaspell.
Shawn learned a lot from Terry’s wand movement and casting rhythm. Before leaving the Great Hall, he even completed an Apprentice-level practice attempt.
Justin Finch-Fletchley could not quite keep up with what he was seeing.
On one side, Shawn was listening to a Ravenclaw ramble about the castle, and Justin edged closer. Yes, he was curious about Hogwarts too, that was all.
On the other side, Harry and Ron were showing Seamus their recent “results”.
Harry demonstrated a Levitation Charm strong enough to float fruit, and an Aguamenti that had finally produced a small spring of water.
Ron was a bit behind, but he had been encouraged by Professor Flitwick and even earned a point, so he was glowing with confidence and energy.
“Oh, how far have you got in Charms? You do not know either? That’s a bit tragic, honestly.”
Ron only had an Apprentice-level Levitation Charm and an Entry-level Lumos, but it did not stop him from feeling as if he had something other students did not.
He still could not believe spells could be this straightforward. He could not believe he could actually track his own progress.
He had always thought it was all a blur. Professors taught in a blur, students sat exams in a blur, and in the end, you got a mark that let you stumble through.
When Seamus asked, wide-eyed, what Ron meant by progress, Ron put on an all-knowing expression and started spinning all sorts of strange explanations.
Kids their age always loved showing off. Even though nobody had leaked a word about the Hope Room, Shawn felt the attention around him growing a lot warmer.
As soon as he left the Great Hall, Seamus came up, blushing. He was clearly frightened, yet also seemed to have been egged on by someone. He stammered, “Great Shawn, can you make me smarter? I am not asking for much. I just want my wand to stop exploding, that’s all.”
Hearing something that ridiculous, Shawn sighed. It was like he had been surrounded by Weasleys three times in a row.
To the resident demolition expert, he said gently, “Everyone has something they are good at, Mr Finnigan. Perhaps you just have not found the right way to use it yet.”
…
Not long after, inside the Hope Room.
A glass cabinet sat on Shawn’s desk. He had made it with Transfiguration to store the dozens of materials Professor Tyra had given him.
[You practised Scarpin’s Revelaspell at Apprentice level. Proficiency +1]
[You practised Scarpin’s Revelaspell at Apprentice level. Proficiency +1]
[You practised Scarpin’s Revelaspell at Apprentice level. Proficiency +1]
…
Under Shawn’s relentless practice, Scarpin’s Revelaspell unlocked quickly. He stepped out of the Hope Room, flicked his wand, and a sheet of parchment became an owl that flew towards Professor Tyra’s office.
The professor might not receive it immediately, but Shawn’s owl would linger for days. He used Transfiguration because Professor Tyra encouraged him to correspond with her through all sorts of transfigured messengers, especially the more “imaginative” ones.
…
Unlike the Great Hall’s roaring fires and thick walls, the winter dungeons offered warmth only from cauldrons.
Severus Snape sat in the cold like a frozen black silhouette. His fingertips rested on a sheet of parchment on the wooden table, its corners curling slightly from the cauldron’s steam.
He was the first to know this knowledge, and the only one.
His gaze passed through the dancing flames, yet focused on nothing real, as if it had fallen into some cold memory far away.
A long time passed. The cauldron bubbled, then popped, like a thought that surfaced for an instant and was swallowed again. Snape did not move. It was as if all of November’s chill had settled into the depths of his black eyes.
Beside the parchment lay a roster book. On one line, after a name, several words had been written:
[Guardian: None]
That ceaseless voice still seemed to echo in his ears. He told himself it was simply that he could no longer tolerate that fool’s idiocy.
His fingertip traced over a distant, unfamiliar place called London.
Then there came a soft knock at the dungeon door.
