That afternoon, Sean was practicing Transfiguration.
The office, warmed by a roaring fireplace, felt different from anywhere else. Professor McGonagall always managed to slip in a barrage of questions without even trying.
"Mr. Green," she said, her voice as precise as ever but softer than in class. "I imagine Hogwarts' November chill can feel quite biting at times."
Sean turned to face her.
Her sharp gaze, framed by square spectacles, landed on his slightly crooked tie and the thin robes he'd swapped into after the overheated greenhouse. He'd forgotten to layer on a sweater when he returned to the castle.
"Hogwarts," she continued slowly, each word carrying weight, "is more than just a school for many who come here. I believe you understand that."
Sean nodded quietly.
Over the past two months, he'd sometimes gazed up at the night sky. The stars in the wizarding world were always bright, not much different from six months ago.
But now, they carried a spark of hope.
"You no longer have to face the first snows of the Scottish Highlands alone," McGonagall said, her eyes softening briefly before her tone snapped back to its usual briskness.
With a flick of her wand, Sean's tie straightened itself neatly.
"There are twenty minutes until dinner. Plenty of time to grab a thicker sweater. I expect to see you in the Great Hall, on time, with a healthy appetite."
As Sean left the classroom, McGonagall lowered her head slightly, her robes swishing as she turned to leave. Her footsteps echoed in the stone corridor, leaving behind a tall, resolute silhouette.
---
On days when the snow fell heavier, Sean's understanding of the Fusion Enlightenment Method deepened. One evening, as the windows rattled from the wind, he successfully brewed an [Introductory] level Elixir of Euphoria.
Snape's expression shifted subtly, though he hid it well enough that Sean didn't notice.
With each successful brew, Sean refined the Fusion Enlightenment Method. In just a few more days, he'd have a complete system.
But today, Snape had kicked him out of the dungeon.
"Sloppy technique! You think your pathetic method can brute-force quality? Sean Green, if you weren't blind, you'd see your abysmal ingredient ratios—idiot!"
Even though Sean corrected his mistakes and improved each time, to Snape, he was barely better than a troll.
Occasionally, those deep black eyes betrayed a flicker of complexity.
In some ways—ways worth recording—Sean showed the talent of a top-tier Potions Master.
In others, things that shouldn't even matter, he was an utter fool.
The contradiction drove Snape up the wall, sometimes to the point of grinding his teeth.
"Idiot! Idiotic heat control! Idiotic timing! Idiotic stirring technique! Get out!"
Sean rarely left the dungeon with kind words ringing in his ears, but he shrugged off the insults. Each session left him brimming with progress.
Under Snape's relentless "guidance," Sean's three core potions reached [Skilled] level. Three times a week, he earned at least ten Galleons from Snape's begrudging payments.
Combined with the hot sales of his notes, his coin pouch was getting heavier by the day.
If he could track down the Weasley twins, he'd progress even faster.
Unlike Sean's calm, deep satisfaction, Harry was having a rough time.
When Captain Wood heard Ravenclaw's Quidditch team had approached Sean, he went into overdrive, piling on extra practices like a man possessed.
But the Green Collection hadn't been updated, leaving Harry drowning in overdue assignments.
After Harry lost Quidditch Through the Ages—and caused Sean to make a "dangerous" trip to Filch's office—Hermione barely spoke to him for three days.
She'd since agreed to help them but refused to let them copy her homework.
"What would you learn from that?" she'd say.
Still, after she checked their work, Harry and Ron always ended up with the right answers.
The real problem? Harry barely had time for that anymore.
The thought that Sean didn't care for Quidditch made Harry feel like some wand-waving baboon in his eyes.
What was the difference between them?
Sean could probably knock them both flat with a single spell.
They'd tried waiting for Sean in the corridors like before, but his routine had changed. They thought about asking Justin, but Gryffindor had just beaten Hufflepuff in a match, and Harry didn't dare approach him.
Even Justin was acting a bit off.
The two of them didn't seem that awkward, though.
It was a clear, sunny Sunday.
In the courtyard, Sean was working with a fire salamander that was scurrying around. Just as it darted toward Hermione's shoes, it froze.
With a wave of Sean's wand, the salamander swelled to three times its size—big as a Quaffle—before slowly retreating, leaving a scorched path in the thin snow.
[You have practiced Advanced Transfiguration at an expert level, +1000 Proficiency]
That much proficiency? Sean had never seen a number that high. He quickly realized why.
"Sean!"
Justin grabbed him just as Sean's legs buckled from a sudden wave of exhaustion. Slowly, he caught his breath.
His energy had been drained in an instant.
"Sean!" Hermione's concern was masked by an angry flush. "I told you—Advanced Transfiguration in the deeper domains can easily deplete your energy!"
After sipping some steaming honey tea, Sean felt much better.
He'd just solved a problem that had been nagging him for ages.
When casting Advanced Transfiguration, he'd been too focused on mimicking the magical creature itself, forgetting that Transfiguration was driven by the wizard's will.
When he chased raw power, the fire salamander slipped out of his control. But when he fully imposed his will on it, the energy cost skyrocketed.
For a first-year's magic reserves, it was easy to burn out.
On the other side of the courtyard, a heated argument was brewing.
Harry and Ron, already in sour moods, were commiserating.
"It's the weekend, Harry. How's your homework going?" Ron asked, his face glum.
"Not a single word done," Harry admitted. He was in slightly better shape than Ron, but not by much.
"The Green Collection won't update for another week, and I'm already doomed!" Ron groaned.
A week's worth of piled-up assignments was no small thing.
"Hmph. Two Gryffindor idiots, thinking they can actually—"
Malfoy sauntered by, glancing around.
The swirling snow obscured his view, and all he saw was a miserable Harry. Grinning, he raised his voice to mock him.