[I rest here, but I am elsewhere,
In the vast sea of potions, I still know nothing,
But now, does it reveal its miracles?
The little that is left of Borlache, dedicated to all wizards tirelessly exploring the realm of potion will—]
Centuries of history had been buried by time's relentless snow.
Hidden on an island in the Scottish Highlands, howling winds shattered against the cold, unyielding castle walls.
Sean sat alone by the window, surrounded by heavy, ancient tomes. His eyes flicked between the winding script on the pages and the chaotic darkness outside.
Each flash of lightning briefly lit up the turbulent Black Lake below the tower.
He was starting to understand something. The power of the potion will domain would ultimately move from strengthening and guiding to merging.
Behind the great adventure of Master Zigmond Babbage and Master Libatius Borlache, the Arctic Ocean and the Nile were blending in the misty clouds—
Sean gripped a simple sky-blue quill, and in that moment, it felt like three hands were holding it together.
[Next, I will demonstrate the framework of the potion will system—]
Improved rituals, will-strengthening methods, will-guiding techniques…
Until the final enlightenment of fusion.
Like Master Libatius Borlache before him, Sean wrote the methods on the back of a piece of parchment.
As he wrote, the parchment, as expected, duplicated itself, slipping between the book's pages and slowly fading from sight.
Sean stared at the parchment, slightly dazed. In the corner, bold runes had silently appeared, unlike the notes he shared with Professor Snape or others. It was an ancient runic symbol: Ken.
This rune meant light, a light that illuminated the path ahead.
Sean gazed at the parchment for a long time. He knew knowledge was never lost.
…
When Sean stirred awake, he caught Michael in the middle of a passionate refusal to someone.
After Sean woke, Michael grabbed a watering can and tended to a pot of Bubotuber.
Snow drifted outside the black diamond-paned window. Michael was cheerfully muttering to himself, "Poor Bubotuber. Sean's hardly around, so I bet no one's been watering you…"
Now Sean knew why the Bubotuber had been looking so droopy lately.
After watering it outside Sean's plans, Michael was up early, flipping through Sean's Quidditch training notebook.
Sure, Michael had only mentioned it once, but Sean had dug out the notebook for him anyway.
Footsteps echoed down the staircase leading to the Ravenclaw common room.
"Absolute genius… controlling himself, guiding the magic. No wonder those guys want Sean on the Quidditch team… but I knew from the start he's not into Quidditch," Michael rambled. "They should've gone for a Seeker! Those idiots—why not pick me? I'm way tougher than Sean when it comes to collisions…
If I could block for Sean or take some hits, maybe I'd root for those loudmouths waking me up at dawn."
A knock came at the door. Without thinking, Michael opened it and slipped out—Anthony and Terry were waiting outside.
Sean's days settled into a steady routine.
In the mornings, he was the first to arrive at the Hogsmeade cabin, with Justin trailing in a minute later.
They'd start by sharing Justin's latest homemade food.
Scottish breakfasts were legendary for their hearty full English spreads, and Justin always whipped up at least three dishes in the morning.
Paired with a steaming cup of honey grapefruit tea, it made the snowy storm outside blur in the steam.
Sean would work on his notes first. Lately, History of Magic and Astronomy were progressing slowly, mostly in the supplementary phase—Sean had reached third-year material in History of Magic, but the versions the young wizards used were still stuck at the first-year first term.
Charms and Transfiguration notes were updated the fastest. Most students couldn't understand the advanced stuff, but that didn't stop them from checking daily, thrilled to see any progress as if they'd learned it themselves.
Potions and Herbology notes were the most borrowed. Not everyone could remember every word Professor Snape said after class.
The Herbology notes? Those were thanks to Neville and Justin's teamwork.
Defense Against the Dark Arts notes were unique. Without Sean's, you'd be stuck self-studying, so Justin made two copies and quietly updated them daily.
The classroom was filled with growing plants, thriving under magical care, giving the room a lush, green vibe.
Neville carefully adjusted their growth to keep them from crowding the space. Justin always called him a Herbology master. At first, Neville would blush and wave it off, but now he was starting to believe it.
Outside, the snowstorm raged, but the cabin glowed warm under the hearth's fire.
Hermione walked in, arms full of books, followed by Neville with a potted plant.
By noon, the three of them headed to the greenhouse to tend to the plants.
After October's wild storms, Sean's Herbology knowledge had reached [Beginner], and he was steadily working toward [Skilled].
Herbology, like Potions, didn't always progress quickly, but it was consistent and steady.
In the same snowy landscape, up the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall, beside a corridor…
The room was small, but a cozy fire crackled in the fireplace.
Minerva McGonagall was waiting for an owl braving the blizzard—a habit she'd picked up lately.
When a letter arrived from distant London, she couldn't help but check on the little guy.
She'd look into his emerald-green eyes, always shining with a hunger for magic.
[Perhaps he seeks nothing, or perhaps he's never had anything…]
Letters from Croydon often softened her stern expression.
When the snow fell harder, Sean, Hermione, and Neville appeared, bundled in thick robes.
Their boots left uneven tracks in the thin snow. Neville would look at Sean with pleading eyes.
With a wave of Sean's wand, a fire salamander scampered out of a jar, climbing onto Neville's head in a few breaths.
[You practiced Advanced Transfiguration at a skilled level, proficiency +300]
Neville shoved his head into the snow, rear in the air, giggling as the salamander burned a trail through the snow.
Lately, the fire salamander was getting harder to control. At the same time, Sean felt he was nearing [Expert] level in the Advanced Transfiguration branch of turning objects into "magic"—he just needed the right spark.
Sean wasn't in a rush. He patiently waited for inspiration to strike.
---