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Halloween Eve.
The second Sean woke up, his to-do list exploded.
He stepped into the Great Hall and found it decked out with hundreds of glowing jack-o'-lanterns, a swirling cloud of live bats overhead, and dozens of orange banners flickering with flame. The banners drifted lazily across the storm-filled enchanted ceiling like colorful water snakes riding an invisible current.
The food was outstanding. Justin and Ron had stuffed themselves until their cheeks bulged. Even Hermione, who was still freezing Ron out, couldn't stop a small laugh from escaping.
Sean's brow eased a fraction as he glanced toward the staff table.
Headmaster Dumbledore still wore his usual kindly expression, but every so often he pinched the crooked bridge of his nose, lost in memory.
Sean knew exactly whose handiwork that crooked nose was.
He looked away and opened the golden-covered book in his lap.
—The Wizard's Book.
A handful of glass shards floated up from its pages.
Dumbledore had given them to him.
Few wizards would understand what these fragments meant.
Besides the obvious—they could be pieced back together into a battered glass vial?
They were right. The shards could be reassembled into a silver, bottle-shaped token.
A Blood Pact.
It represented an ancient, rare, and deeply mysterious magic.
Its physical form was an ornate silver token shaped like a bottle, intricately designed with silver filigree wrapped around a central glass vial.
Just as Sean remembered, before it shattered, two drops of blood had hovered inside—twisted together yet never mixing. They symbolized the lives and magic of the two wizards who had sworn the oath.
If either tried to break the vow, the token would blaze with light and the pact's power would enforce itself in the physical world.
An unbreakable magic. Not even the strongest wizard could escape its hold.
And Dumbledore had handed the broken pieces to him.
Sean turned the shards over in his fingers, thinking.
Had Dumbledore truly stopped hating Grindelwald? Or was he simply forcing himself to do this so Sean would have a teacher?
He couldn't be sure. But with these fragments, he knew Nurmengard would welcome him this summer.
As for Grindelwald…
Clearly Sean wasn't the only one thinking about that name right now.
At the high table, Dumbledore's gaze lingered on the young assistant staring at the shards. He could always tell when Sean's mind wandered—the book in his hands would tilt just a fraction.
"He'll be fine…" Dumbledore murmured with a quiet sigh.
A man on a high tower could inspire any ambitious wizard and muddy any stream, but he could never stain an ocean.
Sometimes Dumbledore lowered his eyes, searching.
When others bloomed like flowers, sang like birds, or curled up shy as touch-me-nots, the young wizard was like sand, like snow. Hardship and temptation could write across him, yet he simply brushed them smooth with one light pass.
A soft hooting sounded. A messenger had arrived from the distant mountains.
A silver-tailed owl had crossed the Alps and the North Sea. It landed on Dumbledore's fingertip.
Even the stormy, freezing ocean had failed to slow those burning wings.
Dumbledore lowered his head and took up his quill with aged fingers.
[To…]
…
Tomorrow they would head to Hogsmeade. Today every professor was collecting permission forms.
Charms class had just ended and the Ravenclaws were already shoving their forms into Professor Flitwick's arms.
"That's it, children—don't forget to hand them in—" Flitwick reminded them kindly, then caught Michael by the sleeve. "Mr. Corner, haven't you forgotten something?"
Michael stumbled, clutching his brand-new Weird Wizard Chess set, clearly lost in thought.
"Oh—right! Thank you, Professor."
Michael blushed and quickly pulled out his form.
"No trouble at all, Mr. Corner. Happy Halloween?"
"Happy Halloween, Professor."
Michael hurried off.
Next came Sean. He was about to hand over his own form when Flitwick pulled his hands back.
"Mr. Green, you've given this to the wrong professor."
Flitwick's eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Um… huh?"
Sean stared straight at the tiny professor, suddenly wondering if the Sorting Hat had put him in the wrong house.
"Honestly, Professor Sorting Hat…"
Sean's words were cut off by Flitwick's surprised laugh.
"Off you go, Mr. Green. What are you thinking about? Oh, I'm quite busy here…"
Flitwick gently shooed the young wizard away.
Sean stood quietly in the doorway for a moment, then understood.
In Herbology the cold war between Hermione and Ron continued.
They barely spoke a word, even though Sean, Ron, and Hermione were all in the same group stripping bubotubers. Harry had paired up with Neville, who was bombarding him with questions about Aurors.
"How's your permission form coming?" Hermione asked Sean while they pulled fat, pink pods from the bubotuber stalks, stripped out the shiny beans, and dropped them into a wooden bucket.
She shot a quick glance at Ron.
"Next class," Sean answered.
"But next class is Transfiguration," Ron said, leaning in and glaring at Hermione.
Sean watched the two of them turn his workspace into a battlefield. He wasn't interested in the drama, so he went to help Professor Sprout with the larger plants instead.
That left Hermione and Ron staring each other down.
His Herbology proficiency ticked up a little, as usual.
On the way to Transfiguration, Sean's thoughts turned to Hogsmeade.
It was the only all-wizard village in Britain, home to every kind of magical folk.
Normally it would have had nothing to do with him, but now there was one wizard there he needed to meet.
The owner of the Hog's Head.
Besides that, Lupin had mentioned the wizarding world had seen some small changes lately, and Hogsmeade itself looked brand new.
He'd said it while never quite taking his eyes off Sean.
That had made Sean curious.
Perfect timing—he was already planning to visit both Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley.
He wondered what those "changes" actually were.
After Herbology came Transfiguration. Hermione and Ron kept up their quiet bickering, shooting angry looks at each other the whole way.
Fortunately, Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door right on time.
"Before we begin, a reminder to all Gryffindors: please hand in your Hogsmeade permission forms before Halloween. No form, no trip—don't forget!"
Tomorrow at three.