01; supernova

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✤ twelve days before ✤ 

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✤ twelve days before ✤ 

     "Sickle for your thoughts?"

     Sage Clarke tilted her head to the side as she peered inquisitively at her best friend, dimples gracing her features along with her smile.

     Samael Harris, who had been staring rather intensely out at the horizon, turned to look at her with disdain.

     "Please," he scoffed, "my thoughts are worth much more than a sickle."

     "Shut up, you pretentious git," Sage laughed at him, causing a soft smile to paint itself over the boy's normally stoic lips.

     A beat of silence shrouded the pair, who were currently levitating in the air a little beyond the astronomy tower. A force field rippled with an iridescent sheen beneath them, keeping them suspended above the grassy grounds of the castle.

     "I was thinking about power," he admitted.

     "What's new?" Sage muttered caustically.

     "Do you think we're born with a stagnant amount of magical ability, or do you think we can increase it?" Samael asked, trying his best to seem casual about the inquiry.

     Sage stopped to consider his question, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

     "Honestly?" she pondered, "I don't think it matters how much magical ability you have. It's more about how far you're willing to go to unleash it."

     Her counterpart leaned closer, unable to mask the eagerness in his amber irises.

     "Think about it," she implored him, "House elves are far more powerful than wizards can comprehend, but decades of oppression have led us to believe that we're somehow superior."

     She accented her point with a flick of her wand, creating a brilliant orb of white light above them. Another motion manifested an ominous black band that encapsulated the radiant sphere, squeezing it harshly until it dissipated altogether with a harsh pop.

     "Then on the other hand you have dolts like Voldemort who wouldn't be able to accomplish anything if they didn't leech off the power of others and sell it off as a revolution."

     She conjured up a bunch of smaller, glowing spheres that floated above them aimlessly. Then she created a grotesque, blood-red leech that hopped from orb to orb, sucking away at the light of each one until they dimmed down and deflated like balloons.

     The chocolate-eyed girl was well aware of the rumors that followed the concept of speaking the tyrant's name, but she knew that Hogwarts' powerful barriers would not allow any of his followers to break through.

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