If a wizard's heart is torn apart, it becomes different. It becomes dark, we're talking about deep magic, that one running through your veins and taking everything from you, tearing your soul, taking over your mind. It was the dark magic the responsible for rising The Dark Lord, many, many years ago. Since then, the Wizard World was fully aware of what they'd have to do. Their goal was the peace, and peace they shall have, since apparently no one was trying to raise hell again. It's depressing, however, the amount of people living in those shadows; shadows of an awful time, they were all full of scars, full of hopes. Destroyed hopes. Distant dreams. Even ten years later, the society is drowning in fear and there is no such a thing as a sear capable of predicting the time they'll be one again. 

But not exclusively of sorrow this new time is living, because they have here and there, people allowed to make good. To be good, as good as necessary, as good as they want to be. And Sungyeol is one of them, one of a kind. In fragile people like the gryffindor with such delicate features, it's found the purest magic form: the one who rises from love.