No Rest of the Wicked

Once Remus was out of sight, George's face completely relaxed. Although the Calming Draught was performing wonders for his cognitive abilities, nothing was halting the cumulative exhaustion induced by the intense acting since he had woken up. He had initially presumed that the sixteen hours of sleep would have been enough, but, a wave of tiredness was beginning to cloud his judgement.

George pushed open the door and was greeted with a large space full of children excitedly whispering to each other. He looked around the room and found that the professor was not present, she must have been still in her office at the back of the classroom. Since nobody had noticed him enter, George made his way to the far corner of the room and sat down on a row of empty tables and chairs.

The broken stool almost gave in under his weight and the crooked desk was covered in spider webs. It became immediately obvious that this corner of the classroom had been abandoned for many years. Just as George was pulling out his quick-quotes quill, Sinistra came out of her office and stood before the students. She had dark skin and black hair that was braided, some of her long hair was draped over her shoulders. Her robes and witches hat was made from golden silk, and there were intricate black patterns on her torso.

The entire classroom fell silent upon seeing the noble-looking witch and eagerly awaited for her to speak. A smile formed on Sinistra's face as she walked up to the blackboard and pulled out her wand.

"Welcome class, to Astrology. I'm Professor Sinistra, your Astrology teacher. To start what will hopefully be an excellent year, does anyone know where the word Astrology comes from.",

Sinistra looked at all the students before saying, "no one? Okay, allow me to enlighten you."

She pointed her wand into the air and a white light shot out of the tip, not too dissimilar to a flare gun. The ball of light stuck to the ceiling and, counterintuitively, turned the entire ceiling pitch black. The white light she'd produced slowly grew in size and shape until it mimicked a miniature sun.

Sinistra pointed at the 'sun' and explained, "that is a re-creation of what all astronomers since the dawn of mankind have wished to comprehend. The great Greek astronomers called them Astron. In English, that means Star. And that's what this lesson will be all about. We will be on a journey to uncover the mysteries of the Universe, and will learn how the vast expanse of stars can influence your very fate..."

The kids were loving the performance put on by Sinistra, they were all entranced with their heads craned up to the ceiling. George was also looking up but only because he was reclining back into his chair. The starry night sky illusion was a great backdrop to fall asleep. Unfortunately, Sinistra seemed to be the sort of teacher to like the students engaging with the lesson. About an hour in, she finally noticed George skulking at the back of the classroom.

She spoke loudly, "how about you? Could you please answer the question?"

George woke up from his semi-lucid nap and had no recollection of what Sinistra had been saying up to that point.

"I'm sorry, Professor Sinistra. Please could you repeat the question?", he nervously apologised.

Most of the class turned around to look toward George whilst sniggering at his expense. Theodore was the only one who, upon recognising George, immediately turned back to face forward without making a noise.

Sinistra shook her head in disappointment, "what's your name?"

George immediately answered the question, "George Linwood, Professor."

Sinistra paused as she recognised the name and her expression softened after realising who he was.

She repeated the question without reprimanding him, "I was asking the class why they think wizards and witches have been fascinated with the stars for thousands of years. I would like to know your opinion, Mr Linwood."

George didn't take long to come up with an answer, "morbid curiosity."

Sinistra looked quite confused after hearing his blunt answer, it had taken her quite off guard.

She repeated his words back to him, "morbid curiosity. Do you care to elaborate?"

George faintly smiled, "certainly, professor. Of course, there is a more obvious answer to your question. After all, understanding Astronomy is a necessary part of magical comprehension and research. But, I highly doubt it's the main driving force that motivates human beings to look toward the stars. I think that all people, muggles and wizards alike, use the Universe as a focal point to help rationalise their purpose and meaning. Personally, I use my limited understanding of the Universe to help define my self-worth."

Sinistra listened to every word and nodded after his speech concluded, "that's a very interesting perspective. Perhaps we can all strive to find some solace in our future studies of the stars."

Then she turned back to the rest of the class, "anyway, getting back on track, has everyone got a copy of the star charts? There should be one beside every desk."

The class continued as normal and George wasn't bothered again. This let him return to his semi-comatose state to allow his brain to continue recovering. This time, George reserved some of his dwindling attention to make the quick-quotes quill write down every word Sinistra said. This way, he couldn't be caught short on another surprise question.

By the time the lesson was coming to an end, George woke up with a partially refreshed mind and a thumping headache. It turned out that maintaining a psychic link with the quill whilst resting wasn't a good idea. After weaving past his classmates exiting the Astronomy lesson, George reached Snape's office with twenty minutes to spare.

George decided to wait outside the office whilst running through every potential question Snape might ask him. The fatigue was still taking its toll so he hoped the excessive practice would make up the difference. Unfortunately, twenty minutes went by very quickly. George was forced to knock on the door once he heard the Hogwarts clock tower chime thrice.

George heard the familiar monotone voice saying, "come in", through the door.

With the mentality of hoping for the best but preparing for the worst, George pushed the door open. The room was identical to how it was a few hours earlier except without Remus sitting in the corner. This time, it was just Snape and George alone. Speaking of which, the potion master was currently writing on a high-quality piece of parchment whilst paying absolutely no attention to his visitor. The room was silent except for the scratching of his quill.

George walked from the entrance of the office to just in front of Snape's desk and patiently waited with his hands behind his back. Another two minutes passed before Snape finally concluded his writing, he slowly placed the quill in its brass stand and folded the parchment. Then he finished by placing the letter on one side of his desk with a pile of similar letters and looked towards George with his signature miserable expression.

"Mr Lupin has concluded his meeting with Professor Dumbledore and has left Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore has asked me as your head of house to pay extra attention to your well-being throughout your time at this school. This is a privilege shared by none other than yourself. You are to report to me, and I alone, if your health deteriorates any further. Do I make myself clear?"

George nervously nodded in Snape's direction whilst biting his lip.

Snape acknowledged George's nod, "good. It has also been brought to my attention that you have demonstrated advanced Conjuration magic in front of several students and members of staff. Have you received any magical education before coming to Hogwarts?"

George shook his head, "no Professor. My Conjuration magic is self-taught."

One of Snape's eyebrows lifted as if he was surprised by the answer.

Snape paused while staring at George, "interesting... It's extremely rare for witches and wizards to be able to cast advanced magic from such a young age, especially without tutelage. Am I to believe that you are from a muggle household?"

George confidently nodded his head, "yes Professor. I was adopted by Mr and Mrs Linwood eleven months ago on the twenty-sixth of August nineteen-ninety."

Snape narrowed his eyes and quirked his head up slightly, "so you're adopted. Are either of your biological parents wizards or witches?"

George frowned as he pretended to have remembered a bad memory. His eyes left Snape and looked towards the cauldron on the table.

He answered the question much quieter than before, "I never knew my parents. I was too young when I was separated from them. I don't even know what their names are let alone if they were muggles."

Snape ended up questioning George for nearly an hour before finally allowing him to leave. Most of the questions hovered around George's experiences before Hogwarts, they predominantly focused on anything that may allude to the origin of his talent for casting fire magic. The unexpected amount of questions caused the headache to turn into a full-on migraine. Every part of his body was screaming for him to go for an early night's rest, but his growing monster body demanded a constant supply of food.

George headed down to the Great Hall and found a place at the end of the table where he could rest in peace until dinner was served. There were around two dozen students in the Great Hall casually reading books and writing on parchment, but in general, the hall was empty. There weren't any professors currently seated at the teacher's table either.

As soon as the food is served, George had no plans of hanging around in the Great Hall. He had taken some inspiration from the older students during lunch, he intended on taking a portion of the food and leaving with it. Within what felt like a blink of an eye, George was awoken by the sound of the professors' voices.

A few minutes before the food started appearing, many of the professors had come out from the side doors next to the teacher's table. McGonagall along with Flitwick, Sprout, Quirrel, Sinistra, Hagrid and even Snape had sat down and readied themselves for the meal. To George's dismay, Dumbledore turned up as well a few moments before the food magically appeared. He sat down on his large golden chair right in the centre of the teacher's table and started to talk to McGonagall beside him.

George wasn't going to waste the time Dumbledore was distracted, he stole the massive beef wellington in the middle of the table and shoved it down his enchanted sack. Whilst George was hastily standing up from the bench, he heard McGonagall calling to him from the teacher's table.

"Mr Linwood, could we borrow you for a moment?"

The sound of George's name being called felt like a knife being stabbed into his gut.

George turned around and attempted to look as carefree as possible, "okay."

Then he walked over to McGonagall whilst trying to pretend none of the other professors existed.

McGonagall smiled whilst gesturing towards Dumbledore, "I was just telling Professor Dumbledore about your impressive Transfiguration skills you showed me earlier today. He is very interested and would like you to do a demonstration if you don't mind."

"Please Professor McGonagall, it's been a long...", George tried to refute.

Sinistra, who was seated on Dumbledore's left, chipped into the conversation.

"I've too heard of Mr Linwood's conjuration magic. I would also like to see a demonstration."

George looked back at Sinistra, "thank you, Professor Sinistra, but..."

Snape decided to put the final nail into George's coffin.

"I have also heard about Mr Linwood's proficiency in flame conjuration. I believe the headmaster would find George's natural talent... most enlightening."

Then George heard Dumbledore's calm voice, "the past afternoon, I haven't had a moment of peace without Professor McGonagall or Professor Sinistra singing your praises. I would appreciate it if you could show me this innate talent I've heard so much about."

George hesitantly looked in Dumbledore's direction and saw the old man looking back with a relaxed smile. He had to hold back the urge to shiver upon meeting those glistening-all-knowing eyes. George slowly raised his shaking hand, he wasn't sure if he was acting or not, towards Dumbledore and turned it so that the palm was facing up. He brought his index and thumb together and clicked them to produce a small ordinary flame which hovered above his palm.

All the professors at the table looked impressed at George's capabilities except for two. Snape was someone who would never look impressed, even if he was, but the other more concerning individual was Dumbledore. George could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he watched Dumbledore seemingly stare into his soul.

McGonagall leaned over to Dumbledore's side, "isn't that astonishing? I would never have guessed that an eleven-year-old muggle-born could ever produce wandless magic with such ease, let alone a Conjuration."

Dumbledore didn't look as convinced as McGonagall, his smile turned into a slight smirk as he addressed George.

"That was easy for you, wasn't it George?"

George 'acted' startled as he asked, "headmaster, I'm not sure what you mean?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "you can't fool this old man. You can do much more, but, you're afraid to show it. I can tell that you are far from pushing your limits."

The rest of the professors at the table appeared to be confused after hearing Dumbledore's words.

McGonagall whispered to Dumbledore, "are you sure about this Albus? He is only a young boy and pushing him to…"

Dumbledore raised his hand and interrupted McGonagall, "I assure you that George will be fine. I'll intervene if I sense he is losing control."

Then he looked back at George, "please George, in your own time."

George was sitting on a fence, he did not know what his best course of action should be. Should he pretend to be ignorant of Dumbledore's implication and say that this was already the best he could manage? If he decided to do this, Dumbledore would know he was lying and would start questioning whether he had a reason for concealing this information outside of him just being nervous.

Another option was to go all out and show the extent of his power. This could make Dumbledore suspicious of why someone of George's age was so unbelievably powerful and may result in him investigating his past. The only remaining option was to show the Goldy-Locks-zone amount of power, not too much and not too little. Since there was no 'good' choice, George made up his mind and nodded vaguely in Dumbledore's direction.

George moved his hands so they were directly in front of his face with the small flame sandwiched in between both of his palms. He concentrated on the flame as it spontaneously began to grow from what was originally the size of a tennis ball, to the size of a coconut. George kept on slowly separating his hands as the flame grew bigger and bigger.

Once the flame reach the size of a basketball, its shape and consistency started to change. The flame deformed into a sphere with a firey-watery layer on the outside. This modification was as much of a surprise to the onlookers as it was for George, this had never happened before. It was almost like the spell had developed some level of automation, it was adding to his encantation as if it had a mind of its own.

Droplets of plasma started to form on the outside like the orb was producing condensation. It was dripping down onto the floor leaving scorch marks on George's shoes. Determining that magic fire gaining sentience was not good, George stopped pouring magic into the ball of fire. However, his situation only went from bad to worse as the ball continued to increase in size.

George could feel that his incantation had become self-sustaining and wanted to keep getting bigger. He kept focusing on keeping the ball under control, but the fire's generated heat was overwhelming his senses. He could feel the sweat on his brow vaporising as the massive flame was now only six inches away from his face.

Once George's arms were over three feet apart and the flame was half his size, it began to shake violently as if it was trying to break from his hold. Bits of plasma were spitting out of the flame which landed on the professor's table and George's robes. At this point, George was reduced to wrestling with the forces wishing to disburse the flame. If he let go, it would most likely result in an explosion.

Since he didn't want to die in a blazing inferno, George tried to pull his arms back together with a great deal of force. Instead of stabilising the flame, he was going to try and crush it and hopefully snuff it out. Luckily, the ball of fire did start to shrink, but it also increased in density as its mass was being forced into a smaller and smaller space. The resistance George was experiencing only increased the closer his hands got together whilst his strength only weakened as time went by.

It took nearly a full agonising minute, but George eventually clasped his cooked palms together. The powerful resistance suddenly came to an end and the sentient encantation fell silent. George slowly lifted his shaking left hand from his right and revealed a glowing marble that looked like a miniature sun floating in his palm. He tilted his hand which caused the marble to slowly float forward until it was in the centre of the table. It stopped once it was halfway between himself and Dumbledore.

Whilst still panting, George looked back up to Dumbledore to see if he had done enough to finally satisfy the man. He received no greeting as the entire table of professors looked equally as surprised, even Snape seemed to be in shock. The only exception was Dumbledore who was staring intensely at the glowing marble floating in front of him. He reached out with his thumb and index finger towards the marble, his fingers started glowing in blue light as he pinched it.

He pulled the marble closer and readjusted his glasses to have a better look, "how peculiar."

Dumbledore stared at the marble for a few more seconds before he started squeezing it between his fingers. The blue glow from his index finger and thumb brightened intensely as he exerted more and more pressure, but the marble kept matching his efforts. George could feel the sentience panicking inside the marble. The formally squshed resistance had flared back up tenfold. The glow from the frightened marble kept getting brighter until it was painful to look at. It was like staring directly at the sun.

After a few seconds, the blue glow from Dumbledore's fingers overtook the marble's light. Then the marble began to crack, and George could feel his connection with it becoming increasingly unstable. The sentient flame was practically screaming at George to do something, but he saw no reason to help it. A faint cracking noise could be heard before the marble shattered into dust and the screaming voice came to an abrupt end.

The glow from Dumbledore's fingers faded as he rubbed them together, he appeared to be making some sort of evaluation. Dumbledore seemed to have made up his mind as he looked back at George with the same unreadable expression.

He said calmly, "you must be tired, George. Go and retire to your dormitory, and make sure you have a good night's rest."

George could finally escape, he didn't hesitate to bow his head and turn around to flee. He turned around only to quickly realise that the teachers weren't the only ones who had been paying attention to him making a mini sun. The Great Hall was full with the majority of the students and all of them were staring at George.

He ran out of the Great Hall, under everybody's watch, and headed straight to the Slytherin common room. On the way, George wolfed down the beef wellington he had stolen, he was back in his dormitory right as he was finishing the final piece of crust. He didn't even give Blinkie a second glance as he collapsed onto his bed face first. He was so tired that he had already fallen asleep before his head even hit the pillow.