"Sean, where did you conjure all those books from…?"
Seeing Sean come out of the changing room with an armful of books, Justin's hands moved faster than his thoughts; he quickly grabbed a few to help.
"Mm…" Sean thought back to the scene inside the changing room.
Fred had pulled an Easy Introduction to Ancient Runes out of the clothes locker; George had fished a Runic Dictionary from the broom cupboard; even a corner had been stuffed with a Table of Magical Phonetics…
Hard to imagine Madam Pince's face if she saw that…
"These are all beginner texts on Ancient Runes—" George shrugged.
"If you want to learn alchemy, you've got to understand these first…" Fred tossed Sean a Compendium of Magical Sigils.
"But you'd better remember to return them."
"The due date's stamped in the book."
"Put the borrower's name as Fred."
"—and of course George!"
Outside the changing room, faced with Justin's curious question—and knowing it'd be hard to describe the chaos—Sean summed it up in one line:
"The two senior Weasleys gave them to me."
Justin didn't press; he just eyed the obviously old volumes with interest. Even with Madam Pince's careful tending, the pages were yellowed, some spots already brittle.
Hermione took one from Justin. The title Easy Introduction to Ancient Runes immediately piqued her interest.
Cradling the Table of Magical Phonetics, Sean headed toward the castle to the backdrop of rising noise from the Quidditch pitch.
His hunch had been right: alchemical constructs seemed to favor spell arrays inscribed in Ancient Runes; that old script appeared naturally suited to bearing more magic.
To grasp the craft's complexity, precision, and depth, the first step was learning Ancient Runes.
Third-years and up could take it as an elective at Hogwarts, taught by Professor Bathsheda Babbling. Hermione had chosen it in third year and done well.
Reading these between his Charms and Transfiguration study sessions might be a good use of time, Sean thought.
The weekend flew by, and Sean also got used to flying straight from outside the castle to Ravenclaw Tower.
Michael had just about collapsed on the endless stairs. As he habitually glanced around for Sean on the steps, a sharp gust swept past—and he saw Sean touch down gracefully on the top of Ravenclaw Tower.
His arrival drew a chorus of exclamations, especially when the Ravenclaws got a good look at his youthful, handsome face.
"Is that… a first-year?"
"I heard a first-year passed the flight test yesterday—could it be…?"
"How could it be Sean? I must be seeing things. He even struggles with the stairs…"
Michael kept trying to talk himself out of it, but when he saw the Nimbus 2000 in the dorm, he had too much to say and no idea how to say it. In the end it all condensed into:
"Teach me—Sean. Please. I really want to learn this."
…
Stairs were no longer a problem for Sean, and he poured more time into Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions.
In the Transfiguration classroom—
"Today we're learning the shift from 'self' to 'living creature.' It's harder than simply animating objects, and the technique required is stricter. If you make a mistake, any outcome is possible."
Professor McGonagall was unusually stern. She opened Sean's essay and nodded, faintly satisfied.
"Then you should know—what's the easiest form of self-transfiguration?"
"The animal that corresponds to one's spirit-double, Professor," Sean replied.
He'd already written this in his paper:
"[In many Celtic, Scandinavian, and Germanic legends, humans and certain animals share a direct bond. These otherworldly beings often 'choose to become someone's guardian avatar and stay by their side,' symbolizing 'a person's fate, holding both human and animal forms.']"
If Sean was right, wizards naturally possess a unique spirit-double; the most obvious manifestation is the Animagus.
For example, James Potter—his spirit-double is a stag, evident both in his Patronus and his Animagus.
Since the Animagus is the ultimate form of "self" transfiguration, transformations aligned with the self will always be easier.
"Very good."
Professor McGonagall nodded and handed Sean a book cataloging various animal spirit-doubles.
Sean was still paging through it as he left the classroom.
If he could find the self-transformation that came easiest to him, would that mean he'd found his Animagus?
But attempting that without Expert-level Transfiguration would definitely be unsafe.
So naturally, "grinding" Transfiguration moved to the top of his schedule.
Over the next week,
Justin, Hermione, and Neville kept seeing wild boars galloping through the classroom—or a sleek, well-groomed cat licking its paws.
Sometimes even the table sprouted two legs. Stools couldn't be trusted either; they might turn into a steam-belching turtle at any moment.
Fortunately Sean confined his Transfiguration to his own patch of the room, or Justin had no idea how many of his cauldron cakes the boar would have stolen.
On a cold but sunny Thursday,
Sean heard the panel chime:
[You practiced an in-depth Intermediate Transfiguration to an Adept standard. Proficiency +50]
[A new Transfiguration-domain title has been unlocked. Please check.]
By then his Transfiguration proficiency had passed 9000. With a flutter of anticipation, Sean opened the panel:
[Title: Master of Transfiguration]
[Greatly increases sensitivity to Transfiguration; greatly boosts Transfiguration aptitude; greatly enhances unique perception of the transition from non-magical to magical within the Transfiguration domain]
Unique perception of the non-magical turning into the magical?
Sean naturally thought of advanced Transfiguration—turning an "object" into a "spell."
A classic example was Headmaster Dumbledore, in the battle at the Ministry, transforming a pool into a prison of water to trap Voldemort.
At that point the pool wasn't simple water anymore; more accurately, it had become the magic of a water prison.
That alone showed how powerful such advanced Transfiguration was.
Before testing his boosted aptitude, Sean packed up his things.
Because it was Thursday, and from Thursday onward each day, Sean needed to head to the dungeons to brew.
The torches along the stone corridors flickered, throwing wavering shadows.
The temperature dropped sharply; his breath fogged white.
He saw the slightly gloomy wooden door. When he pushed it open, a damp, musty scent and the tang of potion ingredients washed over him.
The fatigue from the modified ritual had faded, and Sean was ready to finish his unfinished task—investigating how a wizard's emotions affect potions.
Assuming, of course, that Professor Snape would allow him to make adjustments.
~~~
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