Darcie approached the massive Snakewood tree, ignoring the rest of the world.
It was a momentous occasion.
At Grimmauld Place, Black convinced the rest of the boys to have a nap, shutting down and letting his and Kai's parent AIs combine their processing power.
The Ad Infinitum, standing at 85% of its Advanced Proficiency, burned.
Instantly, the Darcie-Echo, which represented only a fraction of a fraction of the AI's true capabilities, became the Ad Infinitum.
The world expanded in Darcie's vision.
The Ancient Magical Script materialized, runes of the most archaic nature dancing across the space only for her. With it not being an Ability tethered to a Contestant, it became today's Quest's greatest driving force.
Darcie slowly lifted her hands and looked at her fingers.
There was a power about her, she noticed.
There was an awareness about her, too.
She was experiencing an unfathomable change.
The Darcie-Echo remained Unsynchronized with the parent-AI these days.
That Unsynchronization persisted, but the scope of Darcie-Echo's understanding expanded, becoming vast—so vast that she had to come to a halt to go through the overwhelming change.
The world began making sense to her.
The universe became more sensible, revealing its mysteries.
The opportunities, the threats, and the grand plot that dictated all fates became an intent in her heart.
And with that came an understanding that this omnipotent-like perspective didn't belong to her.
It was being bestowed upon her for one simple task.
Darcie put her hands down and looked up at the Snakewood tree.
She could see, read, and feel the magic coursing through the tree. It was like looking at an animal with the ability to see under its skin, at its veins and organs, and acutely understanding all the biological processes at a glance.
Darcie took a breath.
The world breathed with her.
Now — only now — she knew that Harry had had no chance of waking up the tree.
The Snakewood tree had been born out of a Wand that lingered at the threshold of permanent death, making it the grandest confluence of life and death—of resurrection.
Being a Parselmouth was necessary.
But that Parselmouth needed to have a thorough understanding of this resurrection, too.
In the simplest terms, the only way to resurrect the Wand was to not only be a Parselmouth, but also be a.. Wandmaker… like Salazar Slytherin.
That was the true Slytherin legacy!
It wasn't his Wand, but it was stepping on the path that he had trodden centuries ago before crafting his Wand from the Snakewood tree and the Basilisk's Horn.
So, in a way, she had already been walking in Salazar Slytherin's footsteps.
From her decision to learn Wandmaking to her finally realizing that she was a Parselmouth…
In a way, she, Darcie Malfoy, was Salazar Slytherin's true legacy!
It was just that, without his Wand, without mastering the Core Resurrection method of Wand Creation, she was incomplete—the legacy was incomplete.
Darcie experienced a thrill, realizing that grand picture; her grand ambition; her grand fate.
Grandness…
She had already achieved it.
But a mountain was only as tall as far as you could see it, right?
Darcie looked at the not-so-tall tree and knew — she knew — that beyond this lay true grandness.
Today, she must master the Core Resurrection.
It didn't matter if she hadn't even mastered the Core Ageing Method.
It didn't matter if she hadn't even begun understanding the mysteries behind the Core Resurrection.
This feeling of grandness within her…
This feeling of awareness within her…
This feeling of… omnipotent understanding within her…
She must — must — use this feeling to accomplish what would take months — years, perhaps — in one day… in this moment.
RIGHT NOW!
…
A few moments before,
As Darcie stopped in front of the giant tree, going quiet, Madam Villanelle walked next to the Headmistress, who was still smiling to herself. "Do you smile in anticipation of failure or…" she asked, "… do you smile because you know it will never work? That no one can awaken the Wand, ever again?"
Theodore Whitethorn maintained the smile on her face. "Why can't it be both?"
I see… Madam Villanelle nodded in understanding. "I know a touch more about the Snakewood tree," she said, making the Headmistress' smile flicker. "Salazar Slytherin was a Wandmaker. He was the first to fashion a Wand using Snakewood tree and Basilisk's Horn — a unique Wand, given that no one had ever managed to craft a Wand by pairing the same Wand Wood and Wand Core ever since then.
"What is known publicly to all as a Wand's sleep is nothing but the concept of Wilting. Some Wands go into a dormant state after experiencing various phenomena related to their masters — betrayal, weakened state… death. The Wand, particularly the core itself, can die with the deaths of their masters in some cases, like Unicorn's Hair.
"While crafting his Wand, Salazar Slytherin embedded the concept of Wilting into the Wand itself, attaching it to a command, if spoken in Parseltongue. So, in a sense, if a Parselmouth Wandmaker were to attempt awakening the Wilted Core, as if she were crafting a new Wand, then…"
Headmistress Whitethorn's eyes had gone as wide as possible behind her glasses.
The smile on her lips had vanished, getting replaced by a trembling.
Her old, wrinkled face had paled, paling even more by the second.
"You…" she said, looking at the dark-skinned witch. "… can't be serious."
Madam Villanelle smirked. "It's still unknown to the world at large," she told her, almost whispering. "But Darcie Malfoy is an apprentice of Ollivander, and a proficient Wandmaker herself. Who do you think told me about this Wilting stuff?"
No… Whitethorn screamed within, going white. No…
She had already decided to join Lord Black Phoenix's cause after Darcie and Harry's courageous passing of the Test of the Four.
The only reason she had humored Darcie's original request regarding the buried legacy at Ilvermorny was that she had known that the children were destined to fail.
In a way, that would give Ilvermorny students something not to be completely shadowed by either Harry or Darcie.
Or… that's what the Headmistress had thought.
Slowly, frame by frame, as she turned her head to look back at Darcie, she knew that she had made another grave mistake…
… the entire Snakewood tree lighting up with green motes of light, its slithering radiance blinding her eyes!