While Newt was lost in thought, Professor Tayra sat at the high table, smiling to herself as she watched.
Sean had already finished his sweet lemon fizz, and now he headed outside the castle.
The snowfield beyond was dazzling white, almost untouched—except for the deep footprints Ilvermorny students had left on their way back to the castle.
"Will—"
Sean called softly.
"I'm here, honored Mr. Green."
Will stepped out from behind the statue by the entrance, as if he'd been there the whole time. He cast an envious glance at the statue, then turned to Sean and lowered his head.
"What we signed is an employment contract," Sean said after a pause.
"Lord William said the root of stupidity is always a lack of self-awareness. Will is your steward, nothing more—only your steward. Please just give Will orders."
Will kept his head bowed as he spoke.
"Can you take me to the snowfields up ahead?"
Sean could only look at him and ask.
"With the greatest pleasure!"
Will lifted his head, delighted.
And so they Apparated to distant snow-covered mountains. Sean first expanded the interior of the Wizard's Book until it reached four hundred and fifty square meters.
Then he began cutting out sections of space and moving them—one by one—into his Wizard's Book.
That part was exhausting. The farther you extended a space, the harder it became, because you weren't only expanding it—you also had to keep the existing space stable.
Luckily, they had set out in the afternoon, so Sean still had time.
Snow drifted down in a soft, unbroken fall—landing on treetops, on rivers, on the heads of rabbits poking out of snowfield burrows.
Only after a rabbit finished chewing the carrot in its paws did the young wizard finally reopen the Wizard's Book with satisfaction.
Inside, the entrance was still the same open plain: green, velvety grass dotted with yellow and pink wildflowers, and the air carried the damp scent of earth.
To the left of the plain ran a stream, winding past a small wooden cabin with bright windows and a chimney breathing warm smoke. A sign on the door read:
Wizard's Cottage.
But to the left of the cottage, everything changed.
First, Sean carved out an area as large as the forest itself. Then he shaped it into a gently rolling hill surrounded by brush—he couldn't move an actual mountain, after all—blanketed in thick snow, with rabbits occasionally popping their heads out.
Once the space was laid out, Sean quickly used a Separation Charm to isolate the different zones.
The goal was to keep the regions independent, so he could apply weather magic properly.
As he worked, Sean felt just how fun magic could be.
With weather charms, you couldn't simply "create wind and snow" out of nothing—yet if you imagined a cloud first, the snow would fall on its own.
With separation, you couldn't "make a barrier" directly either—but if you planted a sign, built a fence, or ringed an area with shrubs, the separation became effortless.
When the remodeling was done, Will respectfully handed Sean a cup of red tea. While Sean drank, Iffa coiled at his feet—then dashed out into the snow to play.
[You have gained the closeness of the magical creature Wampus (Iffa) to an expert standard, closeness +50]
[Magical creature Wampus (Iffa): fairly close (Beginner tier) (870/900)]
Iffa's closeness rose quickly—she was already at the last step before "close."
But crossing that final threshold would take longer. Feelings weren't something you could measure on command.
"I will remain here, honored Mr. Green. Helping you care for the Wizard's Book's interior is one of my duties. If you need me, call for me."
Will looked at the thin bed, the lifeless kitchen, and something instinctive in him seemed to awaken.
"Thank you for your help, Will," Sean said softly.
"Lord William said: once a contract is sworn, a Pukwudgie offers absolute loyalty—everything for Lord Green."
Will placed a hand over his chest in a formal salute.
Sean had some sense of Pukwudgie loyalty already. Still thinking, he stepped back out of the Wizard's Book.
Ilvermorny was always snowy—distant mountains drowned in white, and owls occasionally passed overhead.
On the castle grounds, people were throwing snowballs; witches and wizards laughed freely as they played.
Sean met Professor Tayra in the snow.
"We're leaving, my dear student. We'll be using—dragons."
Professor Tayra smiled.
Sean looked up at her, confused. She meant… dragons pulling the carriage?
That was a serious breach of the Statute of Secrecy. Sean wasn't in the habit of breaking the law unless he had to.
"Mr. Scamander has a few young dragons that need to stretch their wings. And I just happen to be able to provide a reliable concealment barrier."
Professor Tayra said it as though an invisibility ward that could dodge MACUSA and the British Ministry's detection was as common as a garden gnome.
"I understand," Sean said, nodding.
It sounded unreliable—because it was unreliable.
But with Professor Tayra and Mr. Scamander involved… maybe there really wasn't much to worry about.
"Then let's go."
Professor Tayra blinked, then glanced into the distance. Mr. Scamander was already walking toward them, carrying his suitcase.
"Mr. Scamander," Sean said.
"Mr. Green," Newt replied, shy—and with a lingering dazedness he couldn't quite hide.
Only then did Sean hear a loud, steady snort from deeper in the Ilvermorny forest.
He guessed that was the dragon.
Sure enough, they headed for the source of the sound.
When the trees closed behind Sean and the hidden clearing revealed itself, he saw the scene in full—
Two fierce-looking adolescent dragons were penned inside a corral of thick wooden boards. They reared up on their hind legs with a heavy thump, huffing and snorting—jets of flame blasting from fang-filled mouths into the protective magical barrier. Their necks craned high, their jaws nearly fifty feet off the ground.
Behind them sat a carriage as large as a small house.
"Henry, Rach… under my watch, they'll stretch their wings fully for the first—and last—time. They'll cross the ocean, perform the Wing-Salute, and then return to the Hebrides."
Newt spoke shyly, but his eyes held both the joy and the ache of farewell.
As Newt approached, the young dragons stopped breathing fire and turned their long, narrow eyes on him.
Dragons could never truly be domesticated—but Newt's dragons still felt strangely alive, almost bright with personality.
"I'm glad you could witness their Wing-Salute," Newt said, smiling.
And at the very same moment, the dragons spread their wings.
~~~
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