"Thank you, Grey Lady," Seán said sincerely.
The confused young witches and wizards behind him watched as the ghost floated away and the moving staircase clicked into place. Like a rising tide, they surged forward.
"Seán, how'd you pull that off?" Michael's voice cut through the chatter, ringing in Seán's ear.
Anthony and Terry leaned in, ears perked.
"Hogwarts Castle was built in the tenth century," Seán explained. "The moving staircases were designed by Rowena Ravenclaw herself…"
The trio nodded, catching on. But in the heat of the moment, who would've thought to ask a ghost for help? More importantly, Michael had thought the prefect was joking when he mentioned it.
"But how did you know the Grey Lady could actually control the staircases?" Michael asked, lowering his voice.
"I didn't," Seán admitted. "But trying something is better than doing nothing."
---
They made it to the Charms classroom just as the bell rang. The young witches and wizards, faces flushed, scrambled to their seats.
The Charms classroom had a unique setup: a central aisle with four rows of connected desks fanning out on either side. Seán grabbed the nearest seat, right next to Hermione, who had her nose buried in a book. Her side was empty until Seán sat down, followed by Michael, Terry, and Anthony.
"You were nearly late," Hermione mumbled, her voice muffled by the pages.
Seán nodded, his eyes drifting to the stack of books at the end of the aisle.
The Charms professor, a tiny wizard named Professor Flitwick, appeared from behind the front row, instantly capturing everyone's attention. Barely a meter tall, with fluffy white hair and a beard, he was a sight to behold. He turned, climbed step by step to the top of the book pile, and stood there, steady as you please.
Jaws dropped.
The young witches and wizards couldn't help but giggle.
"Alright, alright, a laugh's not a bad thing, is it?" Flitwick said, unbothered, adjusting his collar with a smile. His voice was light and cheerful. "Charms are a skill every witch and wizard must master. If you can't cast a charm, what right do you have to call yourself a wizard?"
As he spoke, he waved his wand—no incantation needed. The books around him floated into the air, swaying to the rhythm of his wand. They grew to the size of desks, then shrank to the size of a fingernail. With another flick, they multiplied into dozens, transforming into animals that scampered and hopped about.
Hermione's eyes followed a rabbit that darted to her desk. With a pop, the animals burst into fireworks and vanished.
"Cool!"
"Whoa!"
Excited gasps and shouts filled the room.
Flitwick nodded, grinning, and the Charms lesson kicked off with that electric energy.
Just as Seán had expected, Flitwick explained charm theory in a way that was clear yet deep. Then he moved on to teaching the simplest spell: the Luminary Charm.
"The key to Lumos is in the wrist movement," Flitwick's voice echoed. "The pause must be firm and deliberate…"
Everyone threw themselves into practicing, and most succeeded.
[You practiced the Luminary Charm at a Beginner level. Proficiency +3]
[You practiced the Luminary Charm at a Beginner level. Proficiency +3]
Seán's wand tip glowed steadily.
"I did it!" Michael exclaimed after his third try, his wand tip flickering to life. He turned, catching Terry's wand glowing too.
Anthony, who'd apparently practiced before, nailed it on his first go.
"Alright, fine," Michael muttered, pouting, and wandered off to another student. "Seán?"
[You practiced the Luminary Charm at a Beginner level. Proficiency +3]
"Seán?"
[You practiced the Luminary Charm at a Skilled level. Proficiency +10]
"Oi, Seán, you deaf or something?" Michael leaned closer, tilting his head.
But Seán's mind was elsewhere, tuned only to Flitwick's voice: "If you're struggling with Lumos, try this: imagine yourself in darkness, yearning for light. Desperately craving it…"
"Yearning…" Seán murmured. He thought back to the orphanage, to pitch-black nights with no power, not even a candle. London's streets hid fugitives then, and snow battered the leaky windows, rattling them. Seán, lying in a creaky bed, wasn't scared—but the longing for light never left him.
"I have a wand now," he said softly.
"Lumos!"
[You practiced the Luminary Charm at a Master level. Proficiency +300]
"Merlin's beard! Everyone, look at Mr. Seán Green!" Flitwick practically leapt off his book pile in excitement.
The classroom was bathed in a soft, radiant glow. The young witches and wizards held their breath, staring at the light—ten times brighter than anyone else's—emanating from the wand of a boy whose hair shimmered silver in its glow.
"Perfect Lumos! Ten points to Ravenclaw!" Flitwick announced.
---
"Seán, mate, how'd you do that? Teach me, please, I need to know!" Michael babbled in his ear.
"It's emotion," Seán said seriously. "Magic comes from within us. Its strength depends on our emotions or mental focus."
"Emotion?" Michael echoed, while Anthony, Terry, and Hermione, eavesdropping behind him, looked thoughtful.
In that moment of distraction, Seán slipped into the Great Hall. Justin, like he had a radar, plopped down beside him.
Seán poked curiously at a steak and kidney pudding, wondering what possessed British wizards to invent such a dish. He ate, his mind turning.
Magical Theory repeatedly emphasized mental focus and emotion. Lines like, "To truly unleash a spell's full power, you need sufficient mental strength," appeared over and over.
Seán figured mental strength was a mix of a wizard's willpower and emotions. Willpower was straightforward enough, but emotions? Those were easier to grasp.
Together, they were the key to what he called "the power of conviction"—the secret to advancing in magic. Emotions had a clear, profound impact on spells. It was, perhaps, the most intuitive part of magic.
He thought of Molly Weasley, who, after losing one son and fighting to protect another, was taunted by Bellatrix about Fred's death. In a fury, Molly screamed, "Not my children, you—!" and unleashed five silent spells in a row, turning the tide and defeating Bellatrix.
Or Harry, by the Forbidden Forest's lake, shouting, "Expecto Patronum!" to save Sirius. His Patronus was so powerful it drove off over a hundred Dementors.
These moments made it clear to Seán: emotions were a cornerstone of magic.
"If the emotion for Lumos is yearning," he mused, "what's the emotion for the Cleaning Charm?"
Lost in thought, he absentmindedly said goodbye to Justin and headed for the greenhouses.
Wait—Justin?
Seán glanced back at him, puzzled.