Hogwarts Headmaster's Office.
Outside the window, the sky had completely darkened. The castle's distant towers were little more than blurred silhouettes beneath the last traces of twilight.
No lamps had been lit inside the office. Only the fire in the hearth continued to burn, casting flickering orange-red light across the walls. The portraits of Hogwarts' former headmasters shifted between light and shadow.
After returning from St Mungo's, Dumbledore and Lynn sat across from each other in silence.
Dumbledore occupied the high-backed chair behind his desk, while Lynn sat opposite him with his hands clasped over one knee.
His gaze remained fixed on Dumbledore's hand, his fingers unconsciously tapping against his leg.
After a long silence, Lynn finally spoke.
"How much time do you have left?"
His gaze moved from Dumbledore's hand to his face.
Dumbledore fell silent.
"Approximately..." He spoke slowly, carefully weighing each word. "One year."
"Approximately?!"
Lynn's voice suddenly rose as he shot to his feet.
"How can something like this be approximate?!"
Dumbledore released a helpless sigh.
"Originally, it might have been a year," he explained, his voice carrying the resignation of someone whose plans had failed to keep pace with reality. "But—"
"The fight with Voldemort made it worse, didn't it?" Lynn interrupted.
Dumbledore said nothing.
He merely nodded, which was as good as an admission.
Lynn slowly withdrew the hand he had planted on the desk and sat back down.
"When will Professor Snape arrive?" he asked.
The moment those words left his mouth, the office door was thrown open.
Bang!
The door slammed into the wall hard enough to shake dust from the frame. One of the portraits was startled awake by the commotion and began grumbling as he straightened his crooked frame.
Fawkes raised his head from his perch and looked around in confusion.
Snape strode into the office, his black robes billowing behind him. His expression was indescribably grim.
He stopped beside Lynn and, without saying a word, extended his hand toward Dumbledore.
Dumbledore placed his curse-blackened hand in Snape's palm.
Almost none of its original color remained.
The skin was blackened from within, as though the darkness had seeped outward from his bones. Countless black lines writhed beneath the surface like tiny snakes crawling through his flesh.
His fingernails were black.
His fingertips were black.
Even the veins running along his wrist had turned black.
Snape closed his eyes.
White light appeared where their hands touched.
The glow spread from Snape's fingers into Dumbledore's hand, traveled up his wrist and forearm, and finally stopped just short of his heart.
Lynn's eyes lit up.
He had never seen this spell before.
Snape's method of diagnosis was completely different from that of the Healers at St Mungo's.
The Healers had relied upon standardized diagnostic spells. Every one of them followed the same procedure, cast the same spells, and performed the same wand movements.
They were like people operating a machine from an instruction manual. As long as they pressed the correct buttons, the machine would provide an answer.
Snape was different.
His detection spell felt almost...
Custom-made.
A thought stirred in Lynn's mind.
[Record.]
[Ding! Severus Snape's unique detection spell has been successfully recorded.]
A new entry appeared in Lynn's list of abilities.
[Snape's Curse-Detection Spell—Unique]
Its description was brief:
[An advanced diagnostic spell developed by Severus Snape specifically for curses associated with the Dark Arts. It possesses extremely high precision, requires very little time to cast, and demands exceptional magical control from the caster.]
After a long while, Snape opened his eyes.
His gaze moved from Dumbledore's hand to his face.
He stared into Dumbledore's eyes and remained silent for a moment.
"Approximately six months."
His voice was perfectly steady.
So steady that not the slightest trace of emotion could be heard.
The moment those words fell, Lynn seized Dumbledore's hand and attempted to cast the same detection spell.
He closed his eyes.
White light emerged from his palm and flowed through his fingers into the back of Dumbledore's hand.
Its color was slightly different from Snape's.
Snape's light had been cold, like winter moonlight.
Lynn's was warm, like the first light of a spring dawn.
A trace of surprise flashed through Snape's eyes.
Dumbledore, however, smiled.
He studied Lynn's face, which had tightened in concentration.
"To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure," Dumbledore said softly, almost as though speaking to himself. "I believe I am prepared to greet Death—"
"Prepared, my ass!"
Lynn's eyes snapped open.
"Shut up!"
Dumbledore sheepishly closed his mouth.
Lynn shut his eyes again and continued the examination.
The office fell silent.
The only sound was the faint humming produced by the steady stream of white light flowing from Lynn's palm.
A moment later, Lynn opened his eyes.
His conclusion was identical to Snape's.
Six months.
The black lines extended far deeper than he had imagined.
They were not merely clinging to the surface of Dumbledore's skin. They had already seeped into his muscles, blood vessels, and bones.
The magic within Dumbledore's body was resisting the curse, but that resistance was weakening little by little.
The curse was devouring his body.
It was also eroding his will.
At least, that was what would happen if Lynn did nothing.
"It can be cured."
His declaration was decisive, without the slightest hesitation.
Both Dumbledore and Snape turned toward him in shock.
Lynn ignored their gazes.
He drew his wand and pointed its tip at Dumbledore's hand.
"This might hurt a little. Bear with it."
The moment he finished speaking, blazing white light flooded his eyes.
"Silver Radiance Flow!"
Hummm—!
A dreamlike radiance erupted from the tip of Lynn's wand.
It emerged in countless thin strands, resembling delicate filaments of light as they drifted through the air and slowly descended.
A soothing atmosphere spread throughout the Headmaster's office, making everyone feel comfortable and relaxed.
The portraits of the former headmasters, who had been grumbling after being awakened, immediately fell silent.
They leaned against the edges of their frames with half-closed eyes and faint smiles on their faces.
Some even began to snore.
Under Dumbledore's fascinated gaze, the threads of light sank into his palm.
They entered through his fingertips and followed the black lines deeper into his body.
Wherever the silver radiance passed, the black lines began to writhe violently. The threads chased after them, pursuing and forcing them out from the depths of Dumbledore's flesh.
In the next instant, Dumbledore's previously calm expression completely collapsed.
His brows twisted into a knot, his nostrils flared, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his jaw clenched.
"Ah!"
A cry of extreme, suppressed agony escaped his throat.
Fine beads of sweat appeared across his forehead, ran down the wrinkles of his face, and dripped onto his dressing gown.
Seeing this, Lynn immediately increased the spell's intensity.
"Short-term pain is better than long-term suffering, Headmaster! Endure it!"
Pursued by the filaments of light, the black lines slowly converged on the back of Dumbledore's hand.
Gradually, the spreading darkness compressed into a single black sphere about the size of a ping-pong ball.
It settled quietly beneath the skin on the back of his hand.
Lynn finally withdrew his wand.
Snape immediately took Dumbledore's hand and performed another examination.
His movements were much faster this time.
The entire process took less than three seconds.
When Snape looked at Lynn again, his gaze was no different from that of someone staring at a monster.
"It can be cured," Snape said hoarsely. "However, he must rest throughout the treatment period and avoid using magic whenever possible."
After discussing the matter, Lynn and Snape reached their final conclusion.
Completely removing the curse would require repeated treatments.
Each treatment would further compress and shrink the small black sphere.
However, the curse was still alive.
It was constantly searching for an opportunity to spread again.
Whenever Dumbledore used magic, the curse would absorb some of that power, break through its confinement, and begin spreading once more.
Even the slightest magical fluctuation might provide the black sphere with an opening.
Dumbledore, however, raised an objection.
"I can refrain from using magic, but the work at Hogwarts—"
"Leave it to Professor McGonagall," Lynn interrupted.
Dumbledore shook his head.
"Minerva is already extraordinarily busy. I cannot simply dump all my work onto her. She would collapse from exhaustion."
"Then find another professor to share the burden."
Lynn's tone was firm, leaving no room for negotiation.
"With so many professors at Hogwarts, I refuse to believe there isn't a single person capable of stepping up."
He immediately began considering potential candidates.
"First, we can rule out Professor Snape."
"The students would never agree to it," Lynn added, partly as an explanation and partly to add insult to injury.
Snape's expression grew even darker.
"What about Professor Sprout?" Lynn asked.
Dumbledore shook his head.
"Pomona still needs to oversee the greenhouses. Her Herbology research has reached a critical stage and cannot be interrupted."
"Then Professor Flitwick?"
"Filius is ill-suited to such work. He is an excellent Charms professor, but not an excellent administrator."
"Then... Professor Slughorn?"
Dumbledore shook his head once more.
He offered no explanation, but Lynn could read the answer from his expression.
Slughorn's blatant favoritism and obsession with social status made him entirely unsuitable for leadership.
Lynn proceeded to suggest several more professors in succession—Madam Hooch, Professor Binns, Professor Vector, and Professor Babbling.
Dumbledore rejected every one of them for a different reason.
Madam Hooch needed to oversee Quidditch.
Professor Binns was a ghost.
Professor Vector was preparing to retire.
Professor Babbling taught the highly specialized subject of Ancient Runes to relatively few students and devoted nearly all her energy to research.
"Then what exactly do you want?!"
Lynn's voice rose, filled with the impatience of someone who had already tried everything.
"This one won't work, that one won't work! You've rejected everyone!"
Dumbledore looked at the increasingly irritated Lynn and smiled brightly.
"It does not necessarily have to be a professor who serves as Headmaster."
Lynn: ???
He froze.
For a brief moment, his mind went completely blank.
"You mean..."
"I mean," Dumbledore said slowly, "that Hogwarts could have a student Headmaster."
The office fell silent once more.
"Are you serious?" Lynn asked.
"When have I ever not been serious?" Dumbledore replied.
---
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