His wand even sits lighter in his hand. He feels its pleased hum in the quietest of moments, and he knows it’s satisfied too, thriving in its element. Where before, under Bellatrix’s tutelage, it fell silent. Wooden and rigid in its casting, it protested its tainting by the Dark Arts. It created a blockage that reached beyond his wand and settled in his core, growing larger with each spell he unwillingly cast.