Transfiguration, Finite, Disillusionment.
That was the combat spell set Sean built for himself—offense, defense, and concealment, respectively.
Grinding the latter two up to Expert, boosting his real-combat ability, and unlocking the Adept title in Charms were among his top priorities right now.
After all, once you get past The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, the difficulty curve for Charms spikes hard.
Sean needed to prep for the road ahead.
"An excellent selection," Professor Flitwick said warmly, having Sean open The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, where Finite's pronunciation and wand movement were laid out in full.
"Finite is a foundational counter-spell in Charms—highly effective at canceling low-level hexes and control charms. Now—cast a spell, Mr. Green."
Sean quietly cast the Water-Making Charm and jotted down the counter-spell notes.
He knew some Dark spells had bespoke counters (like Professor Snape's Sectumsempra). But clearly there were counters that worked on a wide range of hexes and jinxes—Finite among them.
It's the counter to many poisons and curses.
Funny—Sean had filed it mentally as a defensive charm, but thinking it through, its mechanism isn't to shield the caster; it's to dismantle the opponent's magic.
"Finite Incantatem."
Flitwick flicked his wand; the streams of water vanished without a trace.
"Oh—did you feel that, Mr. Green?" Flitwick crossed his hands and set Grade 4 gently on the scuffed desk.
"My magic was blocked, Professor," Sean said. He could sense the flow at his wand tip cut off—naturally, his casting unraveled.
"Very good! Keen perception!" Flitwick paced, excited. "Now, try it yourself—end it, unmake it. Remember, Mr. Green…"
"Finite Incantatem!"
Sean mirrored the gesture, pictured himself ending the other caster's spell, and snapped his wand downward.
[You practiced Finite once at a Novice standard. Proficiency +3]
The water Flitwick had conjured blinked out.
"Remarkable speed of improvement!"
…
In the classroom—
Hermione had had her nose in Easy Introduction to Ancient Runes for five days straight. She was naturally drawn to that mysterious, powerful script, and had checked out a stack of related books from the library.
Justin was serving as Sean's practice partner—naturally enough, since Sean couldn't very well aim Finite at thin air.
[You practiced Finite once at a Novice standard. Proficiency +3]
[You practiced Finite once at a Novice standard. Proficiency +3]
They kept at it until Sean unlocked Finite.
After that, Sean spent the remaining time coaching one very excited little badger. Lately Neville had been making feathers fly everywhere; Justin wanted Finite under his belt so Neville wouldn't be scared to use a wooden practice board—he was always afraid he'd lose control and clock someone.
Sean hadn't expected it, but the Finite he'd just learned got a real-world test almost immediately.
…
October brought sharper cold.
Gray ringed the mountains around the school; some days a film of rime dusted the peaks, and the lake was starting to crust over with ice.
Students pulled on gloves and wrapped scarves, and mostly gathered by hearths to chat, do homework, or play games.
Friday afternoon, Charms class.
With no fireplace here, the chill bit all the harder. Paired with today's new Water-Making Charm, everyone was extra cautious, worried they'd soak themselves.
Professor Flitwick demonstrated the wand motion again—so fluid it was like sketching a winding brook in the air.
"Keep the wrist soft, not stiff. The incantation should be as clear and crisp as springwater—not like you're smashing rocks…"
A susurrus of whispers and whooshing wand arcs filled the room.
Justin eased his wand through the motion; a thin trickle spilled from the tip. Weak, but on target—he breathed out in relief.
He glanced back.
Sean was arcing his water into a little bridge; then with a flick and a word, he cleaned it mid-air before a drop fell.
"Oh—brilliant," Justin murmured, pride blooming on his face.
"Excellent, Mr. Green! Two points to Ravenclaw!" Flitwick came over, nodding in satisfaction. "And good progress—one point to Hufflepuff, Mr. Finch-Fletchley."
Justin's smile softened further.
Amid the cluster of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, one splash of orange-red stood out—Seamus Finnigan. After his string of explosions, Flitwick had him doing extra practice, which meant an extra session—and a lot of the professor's attention. Much as he poured attention into Sean, his gaze volleyed between the two boys all lesson.
Seamus frowned, face set with focus and resolve.
Don't mess this up again, he told himself. And even if you do—no more explosions.
He clung to Flitwick's mantra of "power" and "flow," swearing he'd land one clean cast.
He gripped his wand like a wild horse's reins that needed breaking.
"Aguamenti!" Seamus shouted, slashing forward with all his might.
It didn't go as planned.
No clear springwater. Not even a sprinkle.
Instead—an ear-splitting bang, like a water balloon bursting under pressure.
A ridiculous, out-of-control column of water—more like an invisible water-buffalo charging full tilt—erupted from his wand tip.
Flitwick's back was turned; by the time he sensed it, the frigid torrent was barreling straight for him.
And just behind the surge, a pair of green eyes flashed:
"Finite Incantatem!"
A flicker of light leapt from Sean's wand. The water faltered in mid-air as if hitting resistance, then thinned and vanished.
[You practiced Finite once at an Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
Sean lowered his wand. Professor Flitwick was shaking with anger.
"I'm docking Gryffindor three points!"
He calmed a few seconds later, but still sentenced Seamus to write, one hundred times:
[I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick.]
~~~
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