Binns emerged from the wall—his head first, then the rest of him. The room's temperature dipped the instant he appeared. Sean noticed a few candles near the front flicker blue.
"Emmerich was a short-lived but exceptionally vicious dark wizard, killed by his opponent Egbert in a particularly bloody duel…"
Professor Binns began lecturing the moment he drifted in—no greeting, no roll call. As a ghost, he didn't care for such things.
"Uric the Oddball was an eccentric wizard of ancient times, famed for, among other feats, wearing a jellyfish on his head like a hat… He once slept in a room with no fewer than fifty Augureys. In an especially damp winter, Uric, upon hearing them cry, became convinced he had died and turned into a ghost. He then tried to walk through the wall of his own house, an attempt which, according to his biographer Radolphus Pittiman, resulted in 'a ten-day concussion'…"
Binns's voice always carried inexplicable pauses and dragged-out endings. It sounded odd.
"I've hea—rd," Michael beside him suddenly mimicked Binns's cadence. In the back, Anthony stopped his note-taking; Terry stopped studying the oddly shaped rune stones in his hand. Even Sean tilted his head a little. The three all knew that well-connected Michael always had fresh tidbits.
"Professor Binns has been at Hogwarts since ages ago. One day, the elderly History of Magic professor fell asleep by the fireplace in the staff room. When he woke up, he went straight to his next class—only he left his body behind!"
Michael painted the scene with relish.
"Whoa," Terry breathed. Anthony arched a brow.
"Self-Stirring Cauldrons," Binns's voice rolled on, "are cauldrons enchanted to stir potions automatically, invented at the end of the twentieth century by Gaspard Shingleton…"
His droning filled the room; nearly every first-year's mind wandered. Some whispered; others simply put their heads down and slept.
Sean, who had memorized the entire History of Magic text, kept taking notes. He realized the Western magical timeline wasn't presented continuously here; Binns focused on figures and attested legends. Major events—like the self-stirring cauldron—showed up attached to people. The lecture had no clear logic. Whether that was History of Magic by nature, or a side-effect of being a ghost, Sean couldn't tell.
Even so, amid the scatter of incidents, Sean teased out a clean thread. For history classes, one method always helps. He scratched furiously, and as Binns spoke his last sentence, Sean turned his parchment sideways.
Michael, curious, leaned over—and saw a timeline cleanly running through every key point in Sean's notes.
"Merlin—Sean, you're a genius," Michael muttered. Those murky facts suddenly seemed… memorable.
Sean didn't react—just dipped his head. With this, "Outstanding" felt within reach.
When the bell rang, the first-years woke as one. As soon as Binns drifted away, chatter filled the corridor.
"Sean, want to come play Gomoku?" Michael asked, brimming with energy.
"I'll pass." Sean was curious about the game he'd never heard of, but he needed to get to the greenhouse.
"Alright." Michael pouted, watching him go.
Per Bruce's reminder, Sean stopped before the first of the domed buildings. Its tall roof glittered in the sun, reflecting the sky and drifting clouds. The heavy wooden framing looked old and stout; deep-green paint peeled in places, showing the dark wood beneath.
He pushed the door.
A warm, humid, life-rich breath of air washed over him. Professor Sprout was swishing her wand—expertly—leaving the dirt-spattered path spotless with a blink.
"Mr. Green—perfect timing. Please help clear this clutter," she said, lifting a small spade and settling a black-red plant at the back of the greenhouse.
Sean looked closely. The long planting bench was a bit of a mess—tiny divots of soil, splashed water, and plant scraps scattered about—like sticky dark-green dittany bits mentioned in the book.
"Scour—g—ify!"
He spoke the incantation cleanly and moved his wand the way practice had taught him.
[You practiced the Scouring Charm once at Apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
In an instant, a swath of bench gleamed.
Sean focused and kept his wand moving.
"Scour—g—ify!"
[You practiced the Scouring Charm once at Apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
[You practiced the Scouring Charm once at Apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
[You practiced the Scouring Charm once at Novice standard. Proficiency +3]
…
What a hardworking little sprout… Sprout watched the boy throw himself into the task, her smile warm as sunlight.
Before he collapsed, Sean had finished the cleanup. With a flick from Sprout's wand, a glass of honey–lemon water floated into his hand.
"Have some honey water and a rest, Mr. Green."
Sean surveyed the fresh, tidy bench with a small sense of accomplishment—though most of the satisfaction was from the +66 proficiency on Scourgify.
[Name: Sean Green]
[Identity: Wizard]
[Titles: Charms Novice, Transfiguration Apprentice]
[Proficiencies]
[Levitation Charm: Apprentice (4/300)]
[Lumos: Apprentice (1/300)]
[Scouring Charm: Apprentice (70/300)]
[Transfiguration: Apprentice (3/900)]
[Herbology Insight: Locked (27/90)]
[Advance: Three Novice-level charms unlock the Novice title in the Charms domain]
[Advance: Novice-level Transfiguration unlocks the Novice title in the Transfiguration domain]
[Wizarding Talent]
[Charms: Green]
[Transfiguration: Light Purple]
Compared to a few days ago, it was a sea change.
He sipped the honey–lemon water; the honey bloomed on his tongue, sweet enough to make him squint.
Delicious—hundreds of times better than the orphanage's bitter black tea.
Sean holstered his wand and sat on the little stool Sprout had conjured. A thought rose:
Odd-jobs were fine, but the priority now was learning herb processing.
"Professor, may I work with you on processing the herbs?"
He asked quickly, making Professor Sprout—who had been heading for an oak worktable—pause.
"Gladly—in fact, why ever not?" she said with a blink.
Sean forgot his honey water and jogged after the plump professor.