"Are you alright?"
Michael carefully lifted Sean, the young wizard still gasping for breath dramatically.
"I'm fine."
After a few minutes of recovery, Sean pulled himself together. He'd clearly overestimated this body of his, fresh from a serious illness. He resolved to take it slower next time—and to bump learning to fly up his priority list, right under snagging that scholarship.
"Alright then."
Michael's brows drooped, his gaze flickering uncertainly.
Back in the dormitory, things got a lot simpler for Sean. He just had to tackle the straightforward assignments from History of Magic, Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark Arts.
These were all meant to be weekly tasks, but Sean had no intention of dragging them out that long. He knocked out the Defence Against the Dark Arts essay in half an hour flat. The Charms one didn't even last twenty minutes under his quill.
The only one worth a bit of care was the one-foot History of Magic essay—lengthy, sure, but he'd mostly finished it last time, leaving just the conclusion.
"You're joking..."
Michael, who'd watched the whole thing unfold, sat there in a daze.
"You just... like that... whipped through three assignments? Including that monstrously long History of Magic essay?"
Sean turned his head, his long lashes fluttering slightly.
"Don't look at me with that 'This is perfectly normal, what's your problem?' face!"
Michael slammed his book shut with a bang.
"I swear, at this hour, no one's even touched these yet!"
With that, he dashed out of the dormitory. When he returned, two more wizards trailed behind him—Terry and Anthony.
"Sorry to barge in."
Anthony greeted politely.
"Michael said there's a Mer—"
Terry started shyly, only for the long-haired young wizard to clap a hand over his mouth.
"Sean, see? No one's done theirs."
Michael grinned smugly, waving two sheets of parchment with nearly three inches of scrawled ink—still miles short of the required foot.
"So, teach us, oh wise one!"
Sean blinked in confusion. Sure, it was a fair bit of work, but it shouldn't be this hard...
Facing three pairs of eager, knowledge-hungry eyes, Sean nodded and picked up his own parchment.
"Actually," he said, pointing to his handwriting, "finishing a history essay is dead simple. Professor Binns's topic was Emeric and the Monster Uric. Step one: sketch out a timeline to pin down their eras..."
He handed over the timeline he'd drawn, to three boys who weren't about to zone out for a second.
"Then you can dig into the background they lived in. A History of Magic has plenty on that already. Step two: analyze their actions in context—there's a great line in the book about how judging people without their backdrop is just lazy. Step three: reassess their deeds and stake your own claims.
"Step four: compare them to other figures and events from the records—history meets argument. That's the heart of it. And finally, wrap with a summary, or the value of your points. Toss in some deeper insights if you like; it won't hurt."
Sean paused, as if remembering something, and flipped open a notebook half-filled with notes.
"Since A History of Magic jumps around timelines like a confused pixie, I sorted it out using this timeline and bits from books like Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century and Odd Magical Failures and Their Insights. Feel free to borrow my notes."
He watched as the three young wizards' stares shifted from stunned to sparkling. Finally, Michael reverently took the notebook, murmuring:
"Sean, you're the Merlin-sent angel here to save us...
"This is my holy grail...
"Parchment—where's my parchment?
"Time for round three hundred!"
Terry and Anthony erupted in a fervor Sean wouldn't have imagined from them. The three pored over the notes, and soon the dormitory filled only with the scratch of quills and the crackle of the fire in the grate.
Anthony's solemn thanks still echoed in Sean's ears as he nodded and effortlessly polished off the Transfiguration essay. That framework worked for pretty much every assignment, really.
Sean paid no mind to the extra bodies in the room now. He set the Potions homework aside and jotted down the second phase of his plan in his ever-present notebook:
[Acquire ingredients for brewing potions]
He'd already got the basics of prepping materials down pat. With the stuff in hand, the groundwork for brewing would be sorted.
But where to get them?
The supply list from enrollment hadn't included any, and young wizards used what Hogwarts provided for Potions class. Could he borrow some after hours?
Sean figured yes, but the odds of Professor Snape agreeing hovered near absolute zero.
For no reason at all, the image of Professor Snape's rejection-etched face popped into his head.
He let out a soft sigh. If having no talent was bad enough, stumbling into Snape without it was a nightmare.
What to do?
The question swirled in Sean's mind as dusk blanketed Hogwarts. Blue and bronze silk drapes cascaded from the ceiling, tinged by the thin moonlight seeping through the windows into an inky near-night. The air hung heavy with the faint bitterness of old book pages, the supple scent of parchment, and a crisp chill like air after rain.
Sean's gaze drifted to the massive arched window. His emerald eyes fogged over like the Scottish autumn mists, mirroring the hearth's flickering, unsteady glow.
"There'll be a way," he told himself.
"This is magical Hogwarts, after all."
The long night passed, and the castle stirred awake once more. Dawn's first warm orange crept up the stone statues in the corridors, making the book-clutching young wizard lift a hand to shield his eyes.
Wednesday.
Ravenclaw had no first-period class that morning, so the first-years lingered in their dreams. But Sean was up with the sun—as always. Back at the orphanage, this was breakfast time; miss it, and tough luck. So he'd built the habit of early to bed, early to rise.
He strolled into the Great Hall and laid waste to the pumpkin soup, chicken-and-ham pies, and Pumpkin Pasties.
Justin, beaming his usual mild smile, sat steadily by his side.
"Morning, Sean."
"Morning."
Sean nodded, then spotted Justin flipping through a hefty Who's Who in the Modern Wizarding World.
"Hogwarts is pure magic. If Professor Binns hadn't saddled us with that one-foot essay, I'd have heaps more time to explore the castle... or the kitchens right off the common room..."
At the mention of homework, Justin's brow furrowed ever so slightly, a shadow crossing his sunlit face.
"Mm."
Sean caught the word "kitchens," and his bright green eyes lit up a touch. Bloody Sorting Hat—I'd kill to be a snack-free Hufflepuff...
Then something odd struck him.
"Professor Binns assigned Hufflepuff a one-foot essay too?"
"Too?"
Justin looked up in surprise.
"You mean..."