When the castle was quiet, even the wind seemed to soften.
Behind an amber-tinted window in Ravenclaw Tower, Sean watched Snowy—his snowy owl—fly farther and farther away with a letter in her beak. The empty sigil, hanging against his chest like a necklace, pulsed with a firmness and pride that came from the messenger's fierce enthusiasm.
Sean suddenly understood something. As he looked down, the tiny, branch-like creature crawled out of his bag and made its way toward a warm little nest perched on the bookshelf.
Tila always had a place in the Ravenclaw dormitory, and when she looked back at Sean, he felt even more than before.
Saturday.
The Headmaster's Office.
"Yes, you already know… Some people take a very long time to understand, and some never do. Only those with character and courage dare to feel it. Such people are rare… and lucky."
Professor Dumbledore gently guided Sean's thoughts in the direction he needed.
"For thousands of years, in ballads and legends, the Borderlands have always been filled with wandering souls. They refuse to become ghosts because that would strip them of emotion; yet they also refuse to pass deeper into death, for they believe they still have something to wait for…
To wait for love to redeem them. Imagine that, my boy.
Endless, boundless waiting… all for the faintest possibility. That is why souls linger in the Borderlands—because a wizard who carries love within their soul is always a little more resilient…"
Sunlight spilled through the open window, scattering iridescent colors across the office. Even in all of Hogwarts, the Headmaster's office was one of the most intriguing places.
If young witches and wizards weren't terrified of being expelled, they would be thrilled to get a chance to look around.
It was a beautiful, spacious circular room filled with all sorts of peculiar little noises. On spindly tables stood silver instruments that spun and hissed out delicate curls of smoke.
Portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses lined the walls—men and women alike—each dozing lightly in their frames.
Over the soft chorus of snores, Dumbledore continued speaking.
His message was clear.
In the Borderlands, whether it was the dead or the wizard souls brought in by the empty sigil, becoming lost was completely normal. The only difference was that the dead would eventually pass on, while the living would return to the real world.
And love acted like an anchor—guiding a soul away from the fog of confusion.
That night, Sean lingered in the Borderlands a little longer than usual. The mist felt thinner, the confusion lighter.
In his dream, he heard the familiar chime of the system panel:
[You practiced Soul Transfiguration at a proficient level within the Master domain. Mastery +10.]
[You practiced Soul Transfiguration at a proficient level within the Master domain. Mastery +10.]
[You practiced Soul Transfiguration at a proficient level within the Master domain. Mastery +10.]
It chimed three times in a row.
Sean suspected the panel's constant ringing was one of the reasons he wasn't "losing himself" very easily.
Morning.
The first ray of sunlight fell over blue silk as the curtains fluttered open slightly, illuminating the open pages of Tales of Dreams:
[He dreamt many dreams. At first, he was an eagle hunting rabbits on the plains. Sometimes he failed, and so he went hungry. Later, he became a rabbit—and he suddenly felt sorry for the terrified creature struggling for its life.
He crossed plains, streams, and deserts, and eventually discovered he preferred the forest, for it had the most animals.
He was their family, the eldest son of the forest. He found he could stay longer and longer.
At first his dream shattered after a few seconds. Later, he stayed for seven hours. By then the sky had darkened, stars blanketing the heavens. The priest told him that the stars here shone brightest… and from them, he learned to divine the future…]
Seven hours…
Sean etched that number into his mind. His current limit in the Borderlands was still under two minutes.
Descending from Ravenclaw Tower, he opened the system panel:
[Transfiguration Categories:
Material Transfiguration: Beginner (10/300)
Magical Transfiguration: Beginner (30/300)
Soul Transfiguration: Beginner (10/300)]
[Evaluation: A wizard who has just entered the Master level of Transfiguration. Combat power among Masters: above 5.]
Soul Transfiguration was improving quickly, but it wasn't his main priority for the plan.
Sean relied far more on Magical Transfiguration—fire dragons, snow giants, and of course, the little stone pier.
But against something as tough as a basilisk, his Magical Transfiguration still might not be strong enough. After all, basilisks, dragons, and giants all had innate magical resistance.
To break magical resistance, you either overpowered it with stronger magic… or used something clever.
The first method was common among dragon tamers. Fantastic Beasts and Their Habits described how they would all draw their wands and cast the same spell:
"Stupefy!"
The Stunner shot toward the dragon like a rocket, sparks raining against its thick, scaled hide—until finally, it collapsed.
By that standard, Sean would need at least the power of four adult wizards to break through.
So naturally, he found a second method: physical tactics.
The same book described another way to catch dragons: digging a massive pit, baiting it with delicious meat, then sealing the pit with Transfigured stone. After a few days without food, the dragon would be weak enough to capture.
That was the value of Material Transfiguration.
To be safe, Sean decided to push both branches of Transfiguration to Proficient.
Now, he was on his way to study Material Transfiguration in the Transfiguration Office.
Soon after—at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
The vast green lawn became Sean's practice ground. Professor McGonagall stood nearby, watching him wave his wand.
The grass rippled like ocean waves. Suddenly, both Sean and Professor McGonagall heard shouting:
"Merlin's beard—an earthquake!"
Hagrid came charging out of the forest at full speed, clutching Fang under one arm and several Bowtruckles in the other—who were fiercely attacking his hand for yanking them off their trees.
"Good to see yeh, Professor McGonagall! You too, Sean—no time ter explain—there's an earthquake—!"
Hagrid panted heavily.