"Professor McGonagall."
Sean looked at the tall witch, her emerald-green robes catching the golden glow of the setting sun.
"Headmaster Dumbledore."
He added the greeting toward the old wizard with the long, silver-white beard, who blinked at him kindly.
"What are you doing—here?!"
Professor McGonagall's voice sharpened dangerously as she fixed her gaze on Sean.
Sean silently shuffled one foot out from behind the sign that read "Forbidden Forest – No Entry."
Technically, he was still at the edge of the forest—not inside it.
The sight made Minerva McGonagall both exasperated and amused. Dumbledore, meanwhile, spoke with a twinkle in his eye, his silver beard and half-moon spectacles shimmering in the rosy light:
"Do take a look, Minerva. It appears we've found something even more interesting than a Thestral today."
Sean suddenly wanted to bolt. He already had a terrible feeling about what was going to happen next.
The pumpkin patch at the edge of the Forbidden Forest was filled with seedlings far larger than normal—and in a moment, an oversized dragon would soon burst out.
Hagrid, thrilled beyond measure, let out a joyous roar.
And then—a dragon appeared.
It stood upright on its hind legs, bellowing as great huffs of breath burst from its nostrils. Tongues of fire shot from between its fanged jaws, streaking into the night sky. Its neck stretched so high that its mouth hovered at least thirty feet above the ground.
Seeing a dragon nearly five times larger than usual, Sean didn't hesitate—he immediately snapped a photo.
After a brief, razor-sharp moment of sensing magic, guided by an inexplicable intuition, he knew his guesses were correct:
Eating more of those Magical Creature Biscuits really did give one access to more magical power.
But accepting that power was its own enormous challenge.
Which meant… for different witches and wizards, Sean could strengthen or weaken the accompanying ritual.
Another fascinating direction to explore…
"Sean Green!"
He froze. Professor McGonagall, her hair tightly pinned into its neat bun and her glasses gleaming, marched straight toward him. Her anger looked fiercer than the flames of a Norwegian Ridgeback.
Dumbledore gave Sean a sympathetic smile before turning to observe the dragon that Hagrid had transformed into.
Sean sighed inwardly. Their arrival was far too coincidental…
Or maybe—not a coincidence at all.
He glanced at the smiling headmaster.
Dumbledore didn't seem the least bit alarmed by Hagrid's dragon form—even though Hagrid currently looked terrifying.
This made Sean frown thoughtfully.
A moment later, Sean's body faded away, replaced by a black cat whose bright, slit-pupiled eyes gleamed.
As Sean expected, even after transforming through magical creature alteration, Hagrid still smelled faintly of pine resin.
This lined up perfectly with the notes in Professor McGonagall's writings on Animagus transformation:
Animagi transform into animals that reflect the deepest qualities of the wizard's soul.
A soul-based transformation never changes one's personality.
Meaning—if a malicious person transformed into a dragon, they would most likely wreak havoc.
But if someone like Hagrid transformed into a dragon… well, you'd get exactly this:
A giant dragon sitting beside Dumbledore, wagging its tail like Fang and smashing giant holes into the ground.
It left Professor McGonagall—wand raised and completely on guard—more than a little speechless.
---
### The Next Morning – Headmaster's Office
"I think you've already grasped the essence of it, haven't you, my boy? Some magic is etched deep within our souls… such as… love."
Dumbledore's deep, wise gaze rested on Sean.
"It means that no matter how one's form changes, certain rules always remain.
Such great magic can help us accomplish many things—including what you've been striving for.
Used properly, a Soul Relic can accomplish far more than you might think."
A thin mist drifted across the entire office as Sean stepped outside, deep in thought.
Whitey perched sleepily on his shoulder.
Only when they reached the shadows did the little owl truly begin to wake.
If Hagrid's dragon form would obey Dumbledore…
Would Whitey obey him?
In the Shrieking Shack, the owl portrait kept flapping around, swiping uselessly at Whitey—but of course, it was only a painting.
Lost in these thoughts, Sean kept studying Simple Charms for Beginners until the second night arrived.
---
Night was damp and windy, but Hagrid's hut was always warm.
When Sean offered Whitey a Cat-Imp Biscuit, Hagrid beamed:
"Oh, she's a right pretty girl—look at those feathers, those claws—"
Sean honestly couldn't tell the difference.
The subtle features that distinguished male from female owls were things only a magical-creature expert like Hagrid could spot at a glance.
Whitey hooted softly, and soon transformed into a fluffy white Cat-Imp, wobbling her way up Sean's shoulder like she owned the place.
"Whitey?"
Sean called out.
The Cat-Imp tilted her head, meowing in a puzzled, slightly odd voice.
"Come to my hand, alright?"
Sean tried again.
But Whitey didn't seem to understand—she only meowed again.
Sensing something, Sean drew out a slate-like object. A flick of his wand tied together small charms into a simple necklace, which he slipped around his neck.
This time, Whitey understood. She jumped happily into his hand—
and Sean felt a warm glow unfurl deep inside his chest.
It seemed the Soul Relic helped him establish a subtle, soul-level connection.
Enough to send simple, precise commands.
It reminded him of the Deathly Hallow—the Resurrection Stone.
Dumbledore had once described it:
"To him, the Resurrection Stone meant an army of the inferi…"
"That 'him,' of course, was Grindelwald. And inferi never obey their creators."
Meaning:
The Resurrection Stone had allowed Grindelwald to command the dead.
Its function was surprisingly similar to the Soul Relic—
except that, according to Dumbledore, Sean and Whitey were linked by love, while the relic merely served as a means of communication.
It had always been like that—
including in the Boundary Lands, where it served as a bridge between realms.
Night deepened. The fire crackled warmly inside the hut.
Darkness always made connections feel closer, and Sean finally understood:
Love is the bridge that connects souls.