Tonight, the night sky over the Ravenclaw Tower was unusually clear.
Sean held a book in his hands and sat on the small sofa by the window. The little hopping fireplace nearby burned quietly.
His thoughts drifted, and he found himself remembering what Headmaster Dumbledore had said in the Great Hall.
Sean realized something almost instinctively: Dumbledore seemed to be growing more and more… gentle, more approachable.
A breeze flipped a page in his book. For no particular reason, Sean thought: This is already good.
Far away, in the headmaster's office, the portraits had become a bit more talkative.
"Yes, Albus—choosing to trust is not an easy thing, especially when it comes to someone who has made mistakes…" former Headmistress Dilys Derwent said with a delighted smile.
Albus Dumbledore, unusually, did not reply. He only looked out the window—toward some far-off place.
In the Forbidden Forest, the black treetops swayed like an inky sea. The sky was a faint mauve dusted with starlight.
He guided his quill and wrote a big, bold APPROVED on the application form for Care of Magical Creatures Teaching Assistant.
Long ago, someone had applied for a teaching post.
That time, he had rejected it without hesitation.
Now, he could not be happier to approve it.
"No one steps into the same river twice…"
Dumbledore's voice sounded like a sigh—and like reflection.
…
After the last day of Christmas break—loud, bright, and full of bustle—the students quickly had to force themselves back into study mode.
In the Hope Nook's thick, studious atmosphere, the members soon realized they couldn't spot Sean anywhere.
Even in the Great Hall, they only ever caught a glimpse of his back as he hurried past.
The reason for Sean's unpredictable whereabouts was simple: after Professor Flitwick thanked Snape for the third time, Sean was essentially stuck in detention in the dungeons.
And his Cat-Pard Cookies had reached their final stage, so he poured what little spare time he had into building the remaining ritual framework.
These days, winter sunlight often shone over Hogwarts.
Inside the castle, everyone's mood lifted bit by bit.
One afternoon, as they headed to the greenhouses to help out, Professor Sprout cheerfully told them that the mandrakes had become moody and quiet—which meant they were rapidly growing out of childhood.
"Once their acne clears up, they can be transplanted again," Professor Sprout said patiently, and Sean and the others listened closely.
"After that, it won't be long before we can harvest them and simmer them over a flame.
That's how you make Mandrake Restorative Draught.
We can use it to reverse conditions caused by curses or Transfiguration—its powerful effect restores the drinker to their original state."
This was not a simple potion—at least, not for Sean, whose Potions talent was only blue. For him, it was harder than soloing a basilisk.
And naturally, the brewing assignment ended up on his shoulders.
Professor Snape announced coldly, "Impressive, 'hero' Green—let's hope brewing this potion is simpler than defeating a basilisk."
So Sean studied Professor Sprout's handling methods with complete seriousness. He planned to construct an intention-guided ritual framework for the Mandrake Restorative Draught within three days. If he managed that, he could count this week's detention as finished early.
As for his detention—officially, it was all about brewing potions, but in practice, most of Sean's time went into studying Dark Arts, and how to counter them.
Lockhart's Dueling Club became Sean's live-fire training ground.
Every weekend, some "volunteer" upper-year Slytherins tried to last a few exchanges against him.
Unfortunately, apart from the very first time, they could barely achieve even that.
To the point that defeating Green became a firm obsession for some older Slytherins.
After all, they were only using jinxes, minor curses, and defensive spells, and still they couldn't beat him—so it had to be a matter of technique.
Admitting you're technically inferior to a second-year is… not easy.
Whenever the Slytherins charged in full of ambition to beat Sean, Snape's cold smirk was hard to suppress.
Perhaps only Snape truly understood: trying to beat that foolish boy in Dark Arts… was even less realistic than hoping to batter him into the ground with Transfiguration.
Even fantasies have difficulty levels.
Through all that relentless study and real combat, Sean's Sectumsempra finally advanced into Master.
He was only two more Master-level Dark curses away from joining the ranks of Dark Arts Masters.
Not a title anyone should want—but having more trump cards was always better.
And now, Sean needed to finish the final ritual for the Cat-Pard Cookies.
…
January quietly slid into February, and the biting cold never let up.
Not long into February, Hufflepuff played Slytherin.
Slytherin won—barely.
In Gryffindor captain Wood's words, that was good news for Gryffindor: if they beat Hufflepuff too, they could take second place.
So Wood cranked training up to five times a week. Which meant Harry only had two nights a week to do all his homework.
He had to admit: he no longer poured his whole heart into Quidditch the way he used to.
He treasured study time more and more—sometimes he even wanted to skip practice.
But whenever he thought that, Sean would vanish again into his endless busyness, and Harry couldn't even gauge his own progress in spells.
The only way was to challenge Sean at Dueling Club and get knocked flat by one effortless move.
Yet for all Sean's nonstop pace, he never looked strained or frantic the way Hermione did.
Hermione's self-assigned, punishing workload finally seemed to overwhelm her.
Every night, without fail, Hermione could be found in Sean's little room, multiple desks in front of her covered in textbooks: a runes dictionary, Muggle diagrams for moving heavy objects, and stacks and stacks of dense notes.
She barely spoke to anyone; if interrupted, she snapped viciously. Worse, she was just as harsh to herself:
"Do you know why Sean had to face the basilisk alone? Because you couldn't help!"
She would even say that to herself.
Compared to the Hope Nook crew's transformations, Sean stayed in the familiar state of constant work.
He finished the Mandrake Restorative Draught—though Snape took one sip and declared it, "Something even a fool wouldn't drink."
And then… he made the Cat-Pard Cookies.