Evening settled over the castle.
Ron held his broken wand, but strangely enough, he didn't feel irritated anymore. He had finally figured out the difference between himself and Fred and George—and even the small part of him that surpassed them.
He had friends. Real ones. And some of them were special enough to make anyone jealous.
From outside the castle, the Quidditch pitch echoed with the occasional shout—Gryffindor's team was training. Oliver Wood's voice, naturally, was the loudest of all.
Sean walked under the fading sunset, the tall beech trees casting long, blurry shadows across his path. A book floated in front of him as always.
Sometimes it was a text on weather magic, sometimes a dream tales collection, sometimes advanced magical theory.
Whenever he grew thoughtful, his wand would flick gently, and the grass outside the Forbidden Forest would surge like rolling waves, carrying Sean toward Hagrid's hut.
[You practiced Material Transfiguration to the standard of a skilled practitioner within the Master's Domain. Master-level proficiency +10]
The sudden progress pleased Sean deeply. He fed Baiyi a biscuit, and moments later, a three-headed dog with gleaming fangs lumbered out of the forest.
Sean couldn't reach her heads unless she lowered them, so she did—obediently.
The three-headed dog—Baiyi—had grown used to the strange transformations happening to her body. She seemed to find them rather fun, often darting after forest creatures for sport.
Sean wore a precious soul relic around his neck, while Baiyi wore an assortment of biscuits around hers.
Once a transformation ended, she could immediately begin another, entirely different one.
No cost.
As long as Sean was present—guiding her, keeping her from losing herself.
In the distance, Hagrid's hut glowed with warm yellow light, the silhouettes of hanging hams swaying gently.
Hagrid hadn't worried about Sean's safety in the Forbidden Forest for quite a while. It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed Firenze quietly keeping watch, along with the other centaurs lingering nearby.
Besides that, Hagrid had only recently realized just how powerful the little wizard truly was.
He had thought it was an earthquake—only to discover it was Sean practicing.
"Like mother, like child,"
Hagrid had said gruffly beside the crackling fireplace, genuinely pleased.
Now the horizon had faded into a thin line of violet and gold. The fir and beech treetops near the forest's edge blurred into shadow.
When Hagrid saw a three-headed dog and a tiny dragon approaching, he rubbed his eyes hard.
"N-Norbert? Norbert, is that you?! Poor girl, why've you only grown this much—WHAT—how's Fluffy out here—MERLIN'S BEARD!"
He dashed out of his hut in a panic.
"Good evening, Hagrid."
Sean patted Baiyi's heads, and she shrank into an owl, landing neatly on his shoulder.
The little dragon beside him "vanished"—at least, vanished to Hagrid's eyes.
In truth, Tilla had eaten a special fairytale biscuit and had climbed into Sean's pocket.
Now that both Baiyi and Tilla shared him as an anchor point, Sean could clearly feel his limits. This must be the upper boundary of Beginner-level Soul Transfiguration.
"Sh-Sean—what… what is all this?"
Hagrid stammered, his beard trembling.
"Some special fairytale biscuits,"
Sean replied.
"The ones with a TWO-PIECE purchase limit?!"
Hagrid yelped. He had been waiting impatiently for Fairytale Cottage to open with his invitation tucked in his pocket.
Sean suddenly remembered something: why exactly couldn't Hagrid be linked by the soul relic?
He immediately started testing.
"I'll pay, of course—don't you dare say no. And please… could you take some photos for me?"
Hagrid clutched his stomach with excitement, his mustache lifting as he grinned. He pointed at the wall—still covered in magical photographs from the last time Sean had turned him into a dragon.
He'd been planning to surprise Harry and the others when they returned.
But then he nearly forgot—again. To stop him from accidentally demolishing his own hut, Sean waved his wand, and a few hopping stools bounced forward to prop him up.
Barely two seconds later, a massive dragon rose at the forest's edge.
Not far away, Dumbledore stroked his long white beard, eyes twinkling with delight.
Since a certain young wizard enrolled, the castle had grown more interesting with every passing day. Interesting enough that even certain reclusive dungeon-dwellers had been emerging far more often than usual.
"Hagrid, can you hear me?"
Sean called from the treeline.
The dragon blinked at him, confused, then stuck out its tongue as if to lick him.
To avoid being swallowed accidentally, Sean flicked his wand. The ground swelled beneath him, carrying him safely away.
"Can you sit?"
The dragon tilted its massive head, then plopped down on its haunches, foreclaws drooping—looking less like a dragon and more like a giant, scaly Fang.
Sean understood instantly. Souls were unique. Even if someone like Hagrid consumed multiple biscuits, it caused no additional strain on their connection.
Did that mean… if Sean found magical creatures with exceptionally strong magical power… could they eat multiple biscuits and produce even greater results?
A dozen ideas flooded his mind at once.
…
The next morning—Day Two of term—after breakfast, the Ravenclaws were headed to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
After yesterday's incident, Lockhart's die-hard Ravenclaw fans had calmed down significantly.
They still admired him, but no longer with the kind of feverish devotion that caused fainting spells.
"What do we have this afternoon?"
Harry asked from the end of the table.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts,"
Hermione answered immediately.
"Huh?"
Ron grabbed her schedule, eyes widening.
"Why did you circle ALL of Lockhart's lessons with little hearts?"
Hermione snatched it back, her face turning crimson.
"Being too obsessed with someone makes you lose yourself,"
Justin said gently.
Hermione's face reddened even further, and she quickly rubbed out the little heart markings.
Sean quietly sat nearby, reading Travels With Vampires.
Fraud or not, Lockhart's books still taught him plenty.
At the staff table—
Lockhart dined with exaggerated grace, giving Professor McGonagall what he believed was a dazzling smile.
"Professor McGonagall, I hear there's an exceptional second-year this term. Let me see… what was the name—ah, Sean Green!"
Minerva McGonagall's usually calm and dignified expression tightened, her tone turning dangerously cool.
"Gilderoy, I beg your pardon—what did you say?"
"Ah—look at me! Nothing at all, Professor,"
Lockhart said quickly, correcting himself.
McGonagall gave him a sharp, piercing look before turning toward Dumbledore.
She knew bringing a fraud into Hogwarts had been a dreadful mistake.