Quidditch season had begun. Everywhere people were talking about Quidditch.
The first match was on Saturday: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin.
If Gryffindor won, they'd climb to second place in the House Cup standings.
Accordingly, the hype around Gryffindor and Slytherin was through the roof.
The moment Sean entered the Great Hall he heard someone say:
"I'm sure there's something up with Harry! Every time the Gryffindor team has practice, Harry disappears—rain or shine. I reckon—"
At the Gryffindor table the comment pricked everyone's curiosity. Heads craned; Harry, eating not far from Sean, tensed.
"He must be off fetching balls!"
That earned a chorus of boos. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, a ball boy?
The talk shifted to Harry's playing—since it was obvious he was on the team. Some told him he'd be brilliant; others said they'd run beneath him holding mattresses in case he fell—Harry couldn't decide which was worse.
Right then—
Ron was arguing again:
"I told you, Sean only needed a simple Levitation Charm to beat the troll!"
"Oh, give it a rest, Weasley. I don't doubt… that Sean could, but I don't believe a word out of your mouth. Remember? Your Levitation's worse than mine!"
Theodore, hearing Ron launch into that oft-repeated tale, couldn't resist a jab:
"I bet you don't even know how to make a feather turn once, never mind nonverbal Levitation…"
He was answered by a scarlet-faced Ron—and a rat that suddenly seemed to grow larger as Ron lunged. Before Theodore knew what was happening, Ron slammed into him and knocked him to the floor.
"I earned twenty points for our House! And you just got out of detention!"
Ron bellowed.
Afterward, the whole thing left Ron feeling sour. Every time Sean passed by, he wanted to say something but swallowed it.
"Will he even accept us?"
Compared to moments before, Ron sounded unsure.
"Sean…" Harry wasn't sure either. No first-year didn't know Sean—but apart from Hermione and the other two, no one knew Sean. Asked what he was like, people said, "Oh, excellent, humble…" They could list a hundred virtues, but when it came to specifics, even Harry could only think, "He's a good person." Beyond that—nothing.
Neither realized that their fixation on Sean—or rather, the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team's sneaky interest—had drawn the eye of a clever, beautiful Ravenclaw.
"Figure out what's going on, Roger?" she asked at the Ravenclaw table, watching Sean leave.
Great Hall.
Bundled in a thick scarf, Sean headed for the door with Hermione and Justin beside him. Since the troll incident, Hermione had developed a vague fear of Hogwarts—practically living in the Hope Nook all day. Sometimes, though, the three would slip out to the cold courtyard between classes… like now.
Hermione had just conjured a handful of bright blue fire and carried it in a jam jar. As she unscrewed the lid, Sean's wand moved in a peculiar rhythm—and a little blue fire lizard scampered out of the jar. When Hermione shut the lid it would "coo" and snicker, then melt the lid and dive back in.
Hermione strongly suspected Sean was behind it. She puffed out her cheeks and glared at him.
"Not me," Sean said.
She believed him at once and peered at the lizard. It hiccuped, belching a puff of blue flame that nearly singed her eyebrows. Furious, Hermione chased it with her wand.
Justin snapped photos—click, click. When he developed them, he found Sean looked the same in each: quietly seated, reading.
[You practiced an advanced transfiguration once at an Adept standard. Proficiency +300]
His progress in turning objects into magic was astonishingly fast—almost unbelievably so—yet compared to Professor McGonagall's notes, not that fast: a first-year at a third-year level.
Transfiguration study has no end. Beyond object → "magic," advanced work includes "magic" → object, and "self" → living creature / living creature → living creature. The difference: transform yourself (e.g., Krum turning his head into a shark) versus transform someone else (e.g., fake Moody turning Malfoy into a ferret).
These were deep techniques; Sean had a great deal left to learn. Even in object → "magic," he'd mastered only a fire lizard; lately he wondered if he could turn flames into a fire dragon.
Then he thought of Fiendfyre taking the shapes of living things; could Fiendfyre count as a Dark spell infused with Transfiguration principles? Does it devour all because it carries the advanced Transfiguration—Vanishing—within it? After all, Transfiguration includes stacked multiple-transfiguration techniques. As McGonagall had said: what vanishes becomes "nothing—and thus becomes everything."
Consider: Fiendfyre is notoriously hard to control; casters who lack the skill often harm themselves for want of the counter-curse. Only powerful wizards can control it precisely. Likewise, Transfigured "living things"—in unskilled hands—can backfire and cause needless harm.
Sean was still mulling this over when Hermione came back, huffing—only then realizing how silly it was to be angry at a magical fire lizard. The thought made her laugh at herself.
Just then Snape crossed the courtyard. Justin immediately noticed he was limping. He nudged Sean—knowing he'd been practicing Potions in the dungeons.
Sean looked over.
Snape, limping, was bearing down on Harry and Ron. He seemed to be searching for an excuse to scold them.
"What's that in your hand, Potter?"
"Origins of Quidditch," Harry said, showing him.
"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," Snape said. "Hand it over. Five points from Gryffindor."
"He just made that up," Harry grumbled as he watched Snape limp away, seething. "Wonder what happened to his leg?"
"No idea—but I hope it hurts," Ron said with relish.