Vale stepped cautiously through the heavy door Snape had left ajar, drawn by a dim glow spilling into the hallway.
'Snape's not here… He must have used Apparition to leave.'
Vale thus found himself in a cramped study lined with shelves that leaned under the weight of forgotten tomes and curious artefacts.
—Sniff,
The air smelled of damp parchment and lingering smoke, creating an unsettling ambiance that prickled at his senses.
He ventured further inside, eyes scanning every inch of the space. One shelf held a cracked mirror, its surface rippling like water disturbed by an unseen force.
The Latin inscription at its base read, "Refletio animi non corporis."
Vale leaned closer, his breath hitching.
"Reflection of the soul, not the body…"
The words swirled in his mind, an echo of something he couldn't quite grasp. Did this mirror hold truths about him?
Turning away from the mirror, he noticed a jar on a nearby table. It glimmered with dark tendrils that seemed to shift restlessly within its glass confines.
A label hung crookedly: "Residual Essence – Class X, Origin Unknown."
Vale shivered involuntarily; he reached out tentatively to touch it but pulled back at the last moment. What kind of power was contained there? And why did it feel familiar?
It didn't take long for him to figure it out.
'That's… a part of me… At least, it used to be…'
Shaking his head, he looked around.
In the corner of the room lay an enchanted candle, flickering with a hesitant light that illuminated only when Vale drew nearer.
A feeling of unease settled in his chest—had Dumbledore set this trap for him? He stared at it long enough to see shadows twist along the walls.
His gaze fell upon a leather-bound book sprawled across a desk cluttered with half-burned notes. It bore an ornate title: The Echoing Soul.
'What are they trying to achieve with all this… magic… being thrown at my face? To confirm my knowledge? To see if I'm lying?'
The spine felt warm beneath his fingertips as he opened it and flipped through pages filled with chaotic scrawls.
"Awakening… fragmented… likely an Obscurial," one phrase caught his eye before Vale slammed the book shut.
Forcing his pulse down, he made sure to avoid glancing at it all and getting influenced by the mixing memories of his predecessor and his own.
Across from him was a sketchbook page depicting a child entangled in dark vines—a disturbing image that seemed alive in its ambiguity. Were those vines protectors or predators?
Footsteps echoed outside the door, drawing Vale's attention sharply as dread curled in his stomach.
Snape entered quietly, eyes narrowing at Vale's tense posture and scrutinising expression.
"What have you found?" His voice dripped with suspicion. "A toy, perhaps, little Windrow? How about a revelation? Which of these..."
Snape gestured vaguely,
"Have appealed to you?"
Vale struggled to mask any flicker of understanding as he feigned ignorance while gripping The Echoing Soul tighter than necessary.
"Just… just looking," he stammered awkwardly, silently cursing inward.
Snape paused at his words, brow furrowing slightly before he moved closer to inspect what lay around Vale's trembling hands.
Vale was awed by his own acting, and it took his all to push down a smug, arrogant smile.
'I'll never let you see through me. I'm just a Muggle-born wizard with slightly stronger magic.'
The air thickened like the damn obscuring dust of ancient history.
* * *
Albus Dumbledore stood in the shadows of Snape's study, observing the tense exchange between the Potions Master and the boy who had become a puzzle piece in the already complex landscape of magic.
He leaned against the doorframe, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he scrutinised one Vale Windrow with keen interest.
The boy's dull brown eyes betrayed little, yet they seemed to flicker with an inner tumult. Dumbledore's thoughts danced around the implications of Vale's arrival—an anomaly at worst.
A slightly stronger wizard at best.
The Quill of Acceptance's hesitation echoed through his mind, a note of unease humming softly beneath his usual calm.
'What is this child?'
Dumbledore mused, assessing the way Vale fidgeted under Snape's gaze. It was clear that both held their own shields, but Vale's seemed particularly fragile, as if a single word could shatter him.
"Severus," Dumbledore began softly, his voice carrying authority without heaviness. "How is he adjusting?"
Snape's lips tightened as he glanced toward Vale, who remained resolutely still but radiated a quiet intensity.
"Well, for one, his control remains tenuous,"
Snape replied, words clipped like freshly severed twigs.
"He is aware of his power and its consequences. However whether he understands it… that remains uncertain. Amusingly, he's trying his very best to keep it all under wraps. Every mention of control makes his eyes tremble."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. Though Snape had never been one to mince words, when he chose to speak, it was always meaningful; he understood darkness too intimately not to see its potential for danger.
For him to repeat the same braindead phrases meant there was a secret hiding beneath the veil.
Yet there was something deeper within Vale. A spark waiting for kindling. The boy bore burdens far beyond what any child should carry, made apparent by each trembling iris.
Dumbledore's heart tugged at the notion of intervention. The balance between nurturing and caution wavered precariously in this case.
If the best case scenario was assumed…
Was it right to step in? Could he guide Vale toward understanding himself without pushing him into darkness?
If it was the worst, then… Is there a chance to save the boy before him?
Dumbledore pondered the issue at hand, signalling Snape to make his jolting appearance before the boy.
And jolting it was.
Vale shifted under Snape's scrutiny, defensive yet calculating.
The way he observed everything reminded Dumbledore of another student long ago—the one who had become a legend and a burden.
"We indeed to need to watch closely,"
Dumbledore instructed quietly as if the air itself might absorb his intentions. Had Vale heard this, he would've wondered who the old wizard was talking to.
"We must tread carefully."