Deep in the Forbidden Forest, a gigantic serpent unhinged its jaws. Even without eyes, the basilisk could hear the crisp, sizzling crackle of its meal and smell the mouth-watering aroma.
While it fed, Aragog and the surviving Acromantulas had already vanished into the shadows of the trees.
Sean didn't pay it much mind. He scanned the carpet of massive spider corpses, casually harvesting potion ingredients as he went.
In a single night, the Acromantula colony had lost more than half its numbers.
Surprisingly, only about a third of that was Sean's doing. The rest? Currently sliding down the basilisk's throat.
As the serpent rampaged through the spider nest, his system panel kept pinging cheerfully:
[You have earned the magical creature "Basilisk's" favor at Expert level. Favor +50]
[You have earned the magical creature "Basilisk's" favor at Expert level. Favor +50]
Sean could feel the mixed wave of affection and raw malice rolling off the beast. Moonlight filtered through the burned-out gaps in the canopy, splashing silver across the hollow.
For wizards, faith is a choice.
For dark creatures, faith is already decided for them.
Being unable to choose… that's the real tragedy.
The Chamber of Secrets business was finally over. Now the only question left was: what to do with one very large, very angry snake?
…
Hope Cabin
Floating candles bobbed overhead, jack-o'-lanterns grinned from every corner, and the fireplace roared with cozy orange flames. A bunch of robe-clad students were sprawled around like it was an ordinary tea party, chattering about the upcoming Halloween feast.
Sean walked in levitating the biggest pumpkin anyone had ever seen (easily the size of a stagecoach).
Hagrid had proudly called it his Pumpkin King and gifted it to Sean as an early Halloween present.
"Where on earth did you…" Hermione blinked.
"I've never seen one that big…" Neville stammered.
Food- and plant-related charms might not be useful in a duel, but they're no less difficult. From that angle, Hagrid was basically a genius.
"Hagrid says hi, by the way," Sean added, setting the monster pumpkin by the hearth. "He also says it's been ages since any of you visited his hut."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all turned pink. Ever since the basilisk rumors started, they'd been so focused on the crisis that they'd totally forgot to drop by Hagrid's.
While they were busy feeling guilty, Sean settled into his usual chair.
Ever since he'd come back from the Restricted Section, a line from Godric's Moste Potente Potions had been looping in his head:
"It is so terribly hard to create a positive faith… yet so laughably easy to create an evil one…"
What exactly did "faith" mean for a wizard?
After thinking about it for days, his quill finally started moving across the page:
[Emotion: love, protection, cruelty, obsession.
These are the emotional, intuitive parts of a wizard's power. In extreme moments they can explode into incredible magic.
Example: Fred turning Ron's teddy bear into a spider when he was furious. Harry inflating Aunt Marge like a balloon when he lost his temper.
Young wizards haven't yet learned to doubt themselves deeply. They believe "I want it, therefore I can."
That raw belief + imagination + curiosity makes magic as natural as breathing.
Reason: knowledge, logic, insight.
This is the rational side of magic, built over centuries. It brings stability and teaches wizards to trust external rules: spells, wand movements, potion recipes.
Confidence shifts from "who I am" to "what I did correctly."
Ritual magic is the ultimate fusion of both.
It is the final, most refined expression of wizardkind's power.]
Sean stared at the parchment for a long time after he finished writing.
No wonder Voldemort was obsessed with killing Harry personally.
To him, being the greatest dark wizard alive was core to his identity. Losing to a baby would shatter that belief (literally). According to Godric's theory, if a wizard's faith collapses, their magic withers.
Look at Neville: when he believed he was useless, his spells fizzled. The moment someone convinced him he wasn't, he could do anything.
Whether the theory was one hundred percent accurate or not, it was a massive breakthrough.
So what about me? Sean wondered, watching Justin excitedly plan twenty different pumpkin-based desserts.
…
"Quick announcement!" Harry said the second he noticed Sean was back among the living. "Anyone want to come to Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party tomorrow?"
The room went dead quiet for one full second.
"A Deathday Party?" Justin asked, always the first to bite. "Like… celebrating the day he died?"
"It's Nick's five-hundredth deathday on Halloween," Harry explained. "He's throwing a huge party in one of the bigger dungeons. Ghosts are coming from all over the country."
"Why would anyone celebrate the day they died?" Ron muttered, practicing his Transfiguration homework. "Sounds creepy."
"I bet barely any living people have ever been to one," Hermione said, practically bouncing. "It'll be fascinating!"
Justin and Neville both looked at Sean automatically.
Sean pretended to think about it while actually picturing the Great Hall's Halloween feast (roast beef, treacle tart, chocolate gateau…).
A Deathday Party meant rotten food crawling with maggots and bluebottles. Hard pass.
After everything with Tom this year, he had missed way too many feasts already. Nobody was dragging him away from the Great Hall tomorrow night.
"You guys have fun," Sean said with a small, perfectly polite smile.
Harry's face fell so comically that Sean almost laughed.
Then Sean added, completely deadpan, "What do you even say at a Deathday Party? 'Congrats on being dead for five centuries'?"
Over by the fireplace, Harry's shoulders slumped. If Sean wasn't going, the whole thing suddenly felt a lot less appealing.
Spending Halloween with his friends around a warm fire and a mountain of candy sounded infinitely better than chilling (literally) with a bunch of ghosts.