"Are you okay?"
Michael carefully propped Sean up. The first-year was still breathing hard.
"I'm fine."
After a few minutes, Sean came back to himself. He'd overestimated this body that had only just recovered from illness. He decided to walk slower next time—and bump "learn to fly" up the priority list, right under "win the scholarship."
"All right," Michael said, eyes down, gaze flickering.
Once they reached the dorm, Sean's to-do list got much simpler: just the "nice and easy" assignments for History of Magic, Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
They were all due in a week, but Sean clearly wasn't waiting that long. He finished the DADA essay in half an hour, and the Charms write-up didn't last twenty minutes. The only one that needed attention was the one-foot History of Magic paper—long, yes, but he'd nearly finished it earlier; only the conclusion remained.
"You've got to be kidding me…"
Michael, who'd watched the whole thing, was stupefied. "You just… this and that… and you've finished three classes' homework? Including that nightmare one-foot history paper?"
Sean turned his head; his long lashes trembled.
"Don't give me that 'this is normal, can't you do it?' look!"
Michael snapped his book shut. "I swear, no one has finished all this right now!" He dashed out and returned with two more first-years—Terry and Anthony.
"Sorry to intrude," Anthony said politely.
"Michael said there's a Mer—" Terry began, only to have the long-haired boy clap a hand over his mouth.
"See? No one else is done," Michael said, smug, waving two sheets of parchment with maybe three inches of writing—still far from a foot. "So… teach us!"
Sean was a little puzzled. It was a lot, sure—but not that hard… Seeing three pairs of eager eyes, he nodded and picked up his own parchment.
"Here's the thing," Sean said, pointing at his notes. "Finishing a history paper is straightforward. Professor Binns assigned Emmerich and Uric the Oddball. Step one: draw a timeline and locate the era each wizard lived in."
He handed over his timeline to the trio, who didn't dare blink.
"Then we anchor their backgrounds—A History of Magic gives enough detail. Step two: evaluate their actions in context. As the book puts it, judging a figure outside their context is dishonest. Step three: reassess their behavior and state your own thesis. Step four: compare both with other figures and events in the sources—interweave narrative and analysis. That's the core of a history paper. Finally, add a short conclusion—or spell out why your thesis matters. A bit of forward-looking speculation doesn't hurt either."
Something occurred to him; he opened a notebook already half full. "Because A History of Magic's chronology is messy, I cross-checked the timeline with a few other books—Directory of Contemporary Magicians, Bizarre Magical Failures and What They Teach Us, and so on. I organized it—use mine directly."
As he finished, the three boys' blank looks brightened by the second. Michael accepted the notebook like it was sacred. "Sean, you're a Merlin-sent angel… This is my bible… My parchment—where's my parchment? I'm going three hundred more rounds with it!"
Terry and Anthony lit up too. They pored over the notes; the dorm filled with the rasp of quills and the crackle of the hearth. Anthony's solemn thanks still echoed in Sean's ears as he nodded and, with no trouble at all, knocked out the Transfiguration essay too.
In truth, that framework worked for every assignment.
He barely noticed the two extra bodies in the room. He set the Potions homework aside and wrote the second step of his plan in his pocket notebook:
[Find ingredients for brewing]
He'd learned the basics of ingredient prep. With ingredients in hand, the prerequisites for brewing were done. But where to get them? The school list hadn't told first-years to buy their own. Hogwarts provided ingredients—could he use those after class?
Probably yes, Sean thought—but the odds of Professor Snape agreeing were essentially zero. That face of his was made to say "no."
He sighed. If anything is worse than having no talent, it's having no talent and getting Snape on top of it.
What to do?
The question circled his mind as dusk settled over Hogwarts. Blue-and-bronze silk hangings fell from the domed ceiling, moonlight staining them a near-midnight blue. The air held the tartness of old pages, the soft tang of parchment, and a clean, rain-washed cool. Sean's gaze drifted to the great arched window. His emerald eyes seemed veiled with the mist common to Scottish autumn and winter, reflecting the hearth's wavering light.
"There'll be a way," he told himself. "This is magical Hogwarts."
Night passed; the castle woke again. The first warm orange light climbed the corridor statues, making the book-hugging first-year raise a hand to shade his eyes.
Wednesday.
Ravenclaw had no first period, so most of the new students slept in. Sean was up early. At this time back at the orphanage, breakfast was served—miss it and there were no second chances—so he'd learned to sleep early and rise early.
He hit the Great Hall and launched a sweep on pumpkin soup, chicken-and-ham pies, and Kreibich wizard biscuits. Justin, reliably warm-smiled, "refreshed" at his side.
"Morning, Sean."
"Good morning."
Sean nodded, then noticed Justin flipping through a thick Directory of Contemporary Magicians. "Hogwarts is amazing. If Professor Binns hadn't assigned that one-foot essay, I'd have more time to explore the castle—and the kitchen next to our common room…"
At the word homework, Justin's brow creased; even his sunlit face dimmed a little.
"Mm." At the word kitchen, light sparked in Sean's green eyes.
Damn that Sorting Hat. I want to be a snack-liberated Hufflepuff too… he thought.
Then he noticed something odd. "Professor Binns assigned Hufflepuff a one-foot paper too?"
"Too?" Justin looked up, startled. "Don't tell me…"
~~~
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