"I was wondering who it might be. So it's Mr. Bulstrode."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles as he smiled at Sean.
Sean gave a small nod and greeted them politely. "Good morning, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Lupin. I was told yesterday to come see Professor Snape this morning."
At that, Dumbledore's expression shifted — a flicker of surprise, but also the familiar air of someone who knew exactly how things fit together. He nodded thoughtfully. "Ah, knowledge is a most tempting pursuit, isn't it? But in chasing knowledge, I do hope you'll remember to balance your studies with life itself. Life has many lessons, too, Mr. Bulstrode."
Sean knew perfectly well that Dumbledore was hinting at his choice to take all five electives — and the Time-Turner that came with it — but he only tilted his head slightly, feigning mild confusion. Then he turned politely to Snape. "Professor, if you're busy, I can come back later."
"No. Your matter cannot be delayed," Snape cut in, his tone clipped. He turned his head, pointedly ignoring Lupin entirely, and spoke to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, you know this must be handled now — or he won't make it to any of his classes today. As for the other matter you mentioned… that can wait."
Dumbledore studied Snape for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "Very well, Severus. Do consider what I said. I must trust you with this."
Snape inclined his head just enough to be polite — no more. He didn't say a word.
Seeing there was no more to be done, Dumbledore gestured to Lupin, and the two of them turned to leave.
At that moment, Lupin turned back to Snape. "Severus, I think—"
"Remus!" Snape snapped, cutting him off. He shot Lupin a withering glance, then spoke slowly and icily, each word bitten off. "This child is about to start his classes. The only thing that matters right now is him — not you."
Lupin opened his mouth as if to argue, but then closed it again. He nodded silently and followed Dumbledore out of the office without another word.
The moment they were gone, Snape flicked his wand — the door slammed shut with a bang. He turned to Sean, pulled open a desk drawer, and took out a delicate golden pendant. He pressed it firmly into Sean's hand.
"A Time-Turner," Snape said curtly. "One rotation takes you back one hour. Its power is drawn directly from Hogwarts itself — which means it only works within Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade at most. Don't even think about taking it outside."
He fixed Sean with a piercing look. "It can only take you back within the last twenty-four hours. Nothing beyond that. And never let your past self and your present self meet — ever. Remember that."
Sean turned the Time-Turner over in his palm, studying the fine engraving and the tiny hourglass spinning inside its golden ring. He vaguely recalled that the version in the books and films he'd seen in his previous life didn't have these same limits. Did he remember wrong? Then again, so much about this world had turned out different anyway — maybe this, too, was just one more thing.
"Professor, this must be… very valuable, right?"
Snape shot him a glare that could have frozen fire. "There are very few left. If you break it, that's one fewer in the world — and the method to make them is long lost. So don't get any ideas about taking it apart to see how it works."
Caught red-handed, Sean gave him a sheepish grin. After two years, it seemed Snape knew exactly how his mind worked — one slip, and he'd guessed Sean's real plan straight away.
"Understood, Professor," Sean said quickly. "I'll head to class, then."
"Go."
Sean stepped out into the corridor, the Time-Turner warm in his palm. He held it up and turned it gently in the light: a circle of gold, a tiny sand-filled hourglass spinning inside a delicate frame — one turn, one hour back.
When Sean got up that morning, he received his schedule.
At nine o'clock, he had three classes overlapping: Muggle Studies, Divination, and Arithmancy. Thanks to the Time-Turner Snape had given him, Sean could quite literally split himself into three.
Of course, each of these courses was held twice a week, with the same content each time, to help students fit them into their timetables. But for those who signed up for all five electives, even the adjusted schedules weren't enough — so the Time-Turner was the only way to manage it.
Take Blaise, for example — he'd signed up for Muggle Studies and Divination. Both were slotted at nine this morning, so he had to pick one now and attend the other during its second session later in the week.
At Blaise's persistent urging, Sean agreed to take Muggle Studies and Divination alongside him. Blaise chose to attend Divination that morning, planning to catch Muggle Studies next time. So Sean and Blaise headed to Divination together.
Meanwhile, at the same moment, in the Arithmancy classroom, another "Sean" walked in and sat down for Professor Septima Vector's class.
Halfway through, Sean finally grasped what Arithmancy really was.
Put simply, the course used numerical calculations to analyze people's personalities and fates — then applied that data to predict possible futures. In Sean's mind, it felt more like a mix of probability theory and big data, except woven through with magic.
Sean found himself deeply interested and paid close attention. Unlike most of the class, when Professor Vector gave them a problem in the second half of the lesson — a simple scenario to analyze and predict using Arithmancy — Sean immediately bent over his parchment and scribbled out a rough calculation.
His final answer was off by a fair margin, but given that it was his first attempt, that was nothing short of impressive. As Professor Vector said herself, getting the right direction on a first try was extremely rare.
Even Vector herself, she admitted, could only achieve an accuracy rate of four or five out of ten in Arithmancy — and that was when dealing with small, mundane questions. The more significant or complicated the subject, the more the predictions slipped away.
So Professor Vector was more than pleased — she praised Sean's potential and made a note to train him as the standout of her third-year class.
Sean was pleased with himself too — but what surprised him even more was a strange sensation: when he'd been working through the calculations, he'd felt his Seer's vision ability stir, almost as if something had brushed past it.
Could there really be a link between Arithmancy and his Seer's vision?