Gilderoy Lockhart was a fraud and a shameless opportunist — but very few in the wizarding world actually knew that.
Logically, it shouldn't have been possible. The witches and wizards he'd Obliviated were all fairly well-known, people with some influence. For the truth to remain hidden, he would have had to wipe everyone's memory, and that would've been just as difficult as actually living through all those adventures he bragged about.
"Wandering with Werewolves, by Gilderoy Lockhart," Senior Bruce whispered. "It describes Lockhart's heroic deeds — mostly how he helped a village rid itself of a werewolf problem. But the strange thing is… Pister, who lived in that village, remembers things very differently."
"We've tried explaining it to people," Bruce went on quietly, "but guess what? Wizards don't like believing the accomplishments of some ugly old American warlock, even if he was the one who actually saved their village."
"People believe what they want to believe. Even the witch who was rescued is convinced — without a shred of doubt — that Lockhart was the one who saved her.
"Sean, keep your distance from people's hearts; they can be terribly foolish. But stay close to them as well; sometimes they burn warm and bright.
"You know what the difference is?"
Bruce suddenly looked unusually serious — a depth Sean had never seen before.
As Sean silently watched him, Bruce finally grinned.
"Choice! Choosing to help a wizard as handsome and dashing as me means you won't have to deal with any of this nonsense!"
With that, Bruce strutted away proudly.
He was proud, yes — but not in the same empty way Lockhart was.
---
Next was Transfiguration, a joint class with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
Professor McGonagall had them turning beetles into buttons. Sean finished almost immediately.
In Transfiguration, there weren't many students at Hogwarts who could surpass him anymore.
In some areas, he'd even gone further.
Soul Transfiguration had helped him understand what it meant for a soul to retake physical form, and also strengthened the mental precision required to consciously reshape the "self."
Which meant that, aside from becoming an Animagus, he could now attempt to transform parts of his own body with a wand — just like Viktor Krum turning his head into a shark's during the Triwizard Tournament.
Advanced Transfiguration had also mentioned ancient wizards who managed to turn themselves into bats, though that sort of magic was rare and incredibly dangerous.
It was the kind of magic that dipped into realms wizards had barely explored — what Sean suspected was the Boundary Land.
Even while he pondered this, his wand moved fluidly, causing subtle shifts in the classroom wall.
[You practiced Material Transfiguration once at the entry level of the Mastery domain. Mastery EXP +3.]
[Material Transfiguration: Entry Level (90/300)]
[Soul Transfiguration: Entry Level (110/300)]
Soul Transfiguration was progressing even faster than Material Transfiguration. Once Sean reached the adept stage — the level where he could instantly alter sections of terrain — he'd finally be ready to study basilisk cookies.
His preparations weren't perfect, but they'd have to do:
A few fire dragons, a few three-headed dogs, some enchanted scopes to block a basilisk's gaze, several mid-tier Master-level spells… and a holy sword he probably could pull free.
Hopefully that would be enough…
"Mr. Weasley, this is the last time — is that clear?"
Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed as she shifted her gaze away from Sean. Her own student was now on his third beetle.
So far he had either squashed them or sent them scurrying around the room, making several nearby girls scream.
Sean, who had just completed his fifth entry-level transfiguration exercise, was starting to feel drained. He glanced over at Ron, who looked thoroughly miserable.
Ron swung his wand, but it only sputtered, crackling and spitting sparks. Each time he tried to transform the beetle, a foul, gray, rotten-egg-smelling smoke engulfed him.
On closer inspection, Sean noticed the wand was wrapped in magical tape — probably the reason it wasn't working.
The dinner bell rang.
Students streamed out of the classroom, leaving only Sean, Harry, Hermione, and Ron behind. Ron angrily tapped his wand against the desk.
"Stupid… useless… thing…"
"Write home and ask for a new one," Harry suggested, as Ron's wand crackled like a string of firecrackers.
"Yeah, and get another Howler," Ron muttered, shoving his now-hissing wand into his bag. "Your wand broke and it's your own fault—"
Harry fell silent.
Hermione didn't comfort Ron, either. She just stomped away — thud thud thud — still furious about their reckless flying earlier.
"I…" Harry tried to say something else, but Oliver Wood appeared and dragged him off.
"Quidditch practice tonight! Eat first — we're already behind, Harry!"
Against a Quidditch fanatic like Wood, Harry didn't stand a chance.
As he disappeared, he was still muttering, But isn't this the first day of term…?
The Transfiguration classroom grew quiet again.
The cages holding mice and beetles — used for practice — rustled softly.
Ron hunched over, staring at his broken wand as the late sunlight slowly faded from the room.
Whenever he was "alone," Ron couldn't help overthinking.
He remembered what he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised — himself as Head Boy, Quidditch Captain… better than Percy, better than Fred and George.
But reality reminded him he was the least remarkable one in the Burrow.
"Your wand's broken."
The soft voice made him jump.
"Ah! Sean—"
Ron quickly hid the wand behind his back.
"Oh, that — yeah, it's broken, but it's fine. I fixed it."
He looked away, pretending not to care.
"You need to go to Ollivanders," Sean said plainly. "Fred and George will help you through the secret passage. Ms. Guert will meet you near the edge of the castle — she waits for the twins there all the time. Go on the weekend."
"T-That's… that's not…"
Ron's face flushed as he scrambled for an excuse. But staring into those calm green eyes, the words died in his throat.
"It's okay," Sean said.
"It's against school rules, it's a lot of trouble, and if we get caught…"
Ron could barely hear his own voice — thin and trembling.
Sean thought for a moment.
"It's okay."
A sliver of golden sunlight slipped through the clouds again, landing gently on Ron's shoulder.
Looking at the young wizard in front of him, Ron suddenly felt as though Sean wasn't a boy at all…
…but a quiet, vast, gentle ocean.