Chapter 37 — Silent Step
Seeing the two boys' blank stares, Russell immediately had his answer. He waved a hand, signaling them to keep playing chess, then turned his attention back to the diary and wrote:
"Apologies, madam. I've never heard of that name before. Perhaps your family line has long since perished."
"Impossible. Impossible... impossible..."
The same word appeared three times in sharp, desperate handwriting, each one darker than the last.
Then, after a long pause, new words began to form.
"What era is this?"
"The year is 1990," Russell replied.
For a moment, nothing happened — and then the ink bled across the page again, slower this time, the tone almost mournful.
"So... over a thousand years have passed. Then it's true. The House of Le Fay has faded into the dust of history."
Russell could almost feel the bitterness behind those words.
Could she really be Morgan le Fay? he wondered. The conversation so far didn't feel scripted or mechanical — the responses were too natural, too human.
Still, he wasn't about to accept it at face value.
"Even if I wanted to help you," he wrote, "I'm just a student — barely learning the basics of magic. I doubt I could be of any use. And besides... you must know how this world works. The weak don't survive long. By tomorrow I might get snatched up by some powerful wizard for experimentation."
There was another pause before the ink stirred again, this time with renewed urgency.
"My original intent was to have you deliver this diary to the descendants of House Le Fay. But since they no longer exist... I see I must earn your trust.
To show my sincerity, I shall teach you a spell — one that will let you evade pursuit from other wizards."
Russell's eyes lit up. If what she said was true, this could be his chance to learn an ancient spell for free. And as for freeing her? He couldn't do that even if he wanted to — there was no harm in pretending for now.
As for whether the diary might try to possess him like Tom Riddle's had... well, Russell had seen no signs of that. If it had that kind of power, it would've already made its move.
Lines of elegant script began flowing rapidly across the page. Russell quickly grabbed his quill and jotted down every word. He wasn't foolish enough to attempt the spell immediately — he'd first verify its safety with Professor Flitwick.
At the top of the notes, the name was written clearly:
Vox Odor Abscondantur (Silent Step).
According to the diary's description, once the spell was cast, the caster's sound and scent would be completely absorbed into a magical field. The caster could move silently and leave no trace of smell — though they would remain visible to the naked eye.
The notes even included detailed cautions:
"This charm does not block magical detection. Its effectiveness is reduced against creatures with heightened smell, such as werewolves or nifflers."
"This spell," the diary added, "was once reserved for my personal assassins. Learn it freely. I have no need for deceit against one so insignificant."
Russell smirked faintly as he wrote his reply:
"No need for concern. I can tell truth from trickery well enough."
He closed the diary with a soft thud, his mind churning. The information — the tone — it all felt authentic. If this truly was Morgan le Fay, then he was holding a priceless relic of magical history in his hands.
But that also meant it was far too dangerous to keep lying around his dormitory.
He needed a safer place to hide it.
Rising from his seat, he bid a casual farewell to James and Rosen and slipped quietly out of the common room.
"The Room of Requirement…" he muttered to himself as he walked the dim corridors. "Where was it again?"
He frowned, trying to recall the details. Somewhere near the tapestry… right — the one with the troll beating up that idiot Barnabas the Barmy.
After wandering for what felt like half an hour — and asking for directions from a few rather unhelpful portraits — Russell finally found himself on the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle, standing before the tapestry of The Troll Clubbing Barnabas the Barmy.
Directly across from it was an empty stretch of wall — the entrance to the fabled Room of Requirement.
The painting before him was known by a rather ridiculous name — The Troll Clubbing Barnabas the Barmy. The title came from the scene it depicted: a wizard named Barnabas who had once attempted the absurd — teaching trolls how to perform ballet.
As the legend went, the trolls lost patience midway through the lesson, grabbed their clubs, and beat Barnabas soundly across the backside — which, ironically, caused him to start twirling and leaping like a ballerina.
"Good evening, Mr. Barnabas," Russell greeted politely, stepping up to the painting. "May I ask why you wanted to teach trolls ballet? With all due respect… they don't exactly fit the image."
"Ah!" Barnabas exclaimed, rubbing his sore rear as though it still hurt. "That question has been asked many times — but since you've taken the trouble to ask, I shall answer it once more!"
He lifted his chin, eyes gleaming with unshaken conviction.
"I firmly believe that magical creatures, like humans, possess untapped potential. Through art, I sought to challenge the prejudice that has long divided our world. Trolls, in particular, are seen as crude, stupid beasts — 'inferior beings,' as the Ministry would call them.
"I wanted to prove that grace and brutality need not be opposites — that beauty can exist even in what the world deems monstrous. Ballet was my protest against the wizarding world's arrogance and its discrimination toward non-human life."
Russell blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sheer sincerity of the speech.
"Well," he said with a small shrug, "I don't really get it… but I respect it."
Barnabas's painted eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment he looked genuinely touched.
"Thank you," he said softly. "You're the first to understand me."
"I just think everyone's entitled to their hobbies," Russell replied. "As long as you're not hurting anyone, who's to judge?"
Barnabas nodded solemnly. "That alone is enough."
With that, he turned back toward his troupe of irritable trolls — just in time to take another wooden club to the backside — and resumed his eternal dance of misguided idealism.
Russell chuckled under his breath and refocused. He began pacing back and forth in front of the tapestry, whispering under his breath, I need a greenhouse… I need a greenhouse… I need a greenhouse.
By the third pass, a door shimmered into existence in the once-blank stretch of wall.
He grasped the handle and stepped inside.
The Room of Requirement had taken his thought literally. The space now resembled one of Professor Sprout's greenhouses, though slightly smaller — about half the size. Rows of plants lined the walls, and the air was warm and fragrant with earth and sunlight.
Perfect.
Russell crouched and conjured two earthen pots at his feet. Carefully, he took out the two remaining Biting Rose seeds from his pocket and planted them in the soil.
He adjusted the room's light levels and summoned a gentle misting spell, watering them with care.
Once that was done, he conjured a sturdy wooden chest with an iron lock, placed the mysterious diary inside, and tucked it safely in the corner of the greenhouse.
He was about to leave — but glancing at the time, realized it was still early. Since he was here, why not make use of it?
"I need a sparring partner," he murmured.
A shimmer appeared before him, and a shape began to form — solidifying into the figure of Cedric Diggory, or rather, a perfect magical recreation of him as Russell remembered: confident stance, wand in hand, eyes bright with focus.
"Let's see how much I've improved," Russell said with a grin.
In an instant, streaks of red light filled the greenhouse.
Disarming Charm experience +1
Disarming Charm experience +1
Disarming Charm experience +1
The following evening...
"Russell! What the—?" Cedric's duplicate ducked as a red beam grazed past his ear. "Why does your Expelliarmus feel so much stronger than before?"
He rolled to the side and shot back a quick counterspell, but Russell sidestepped effortlessly, anticipating his every move.
"And you're dodging like you know exactly where I'm aiming!" Cedric said, frowning. "You've been practicing behind my back, haven't you?"
Russell merely smiled, saying nothing. After all, this Cedric's fighting style was exactly like the real one — the Room of Requirement had recreated even his habits and tempo perfectly.
When Cedric raised his wand, Russell already knew which direction to dodge.
"Tell you what," Russell said between spells, his tone light. "Tonight, I'll take you somewhere special."
"Somewhere special?" Cedric echoed, lowering his wand slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
But before he could press further, Russell abruptly changed the subject.
"What do you think of the new professor — Corvey?" he asked casually, deflecting another incoming red flash with a lazy flick of his wand.