"This is the day of my shame, the yesterday I fear.
I wanted you to see this, so you would understand my mistake…"
Dumbledore gazed at the far horizon with pale blue eyes as the church hymn drifted down on the wind.
"As you know, the way I behaved in my youth proved that power is my weakness—my temptation.
Strange, isn't it, my boy? Perhaps the people best suited to wield power are those who never go chasing it… like…"
Dumbledore conjured a chair with his wand and sat down, then drew a bundle of white flowers from his robe.
He laid them before the epitaph and gently brushed away the dust clinging to the stone.
"Still, Hogwarts has always been a safer place for me. I do believe I've been a good teacher—"
"You've always done well. You're the best headmaster."
"I do hope that isn't flattery. But if my conduct can win your approval too, then perhaps these years haven't been entirely without progress.
There is one thing that puzzles me, though—I always thought everyone walked through life dragging the corpse of yesterday behind them. And yet I met you, my boy. You've surprised me again and again.
Could you tell me, Mr. Green, why is it that happiness seems to satisfy you so easily?"
Dumbledore looked at Sean with a gentle, searching gaze.
He had seen too many people who could never be filled, and never imagined he would one day encounter a stream so clear and transparent.
There had to be some kind of fire in this child's heart—something that set him apart from everyone else.
"Happiness is only a state of being, Professor," Sean said seriously.
"Without pain, you can't feel happiness strongly. That would only be comfort and mediocrity—not happiness, not good fortune."
"Ah… so even misfortune has given you wealth. That's the first time I've heard it put that way."
Dumbledore's words curved unexpectedly, then he added,
"Or perhaps you've seen even greater unhappiness—enough that you can gladly accept the life you have now?
Was it mine? Or Minerva's? Or perhaps… Severus's?"
Sean had always known Headmaster Dumbledore could notice many things, but he still seemed to have underestimated the old wizard's sharpness.
Dumbledore did not press any further. If there were anyone he could safely entrust the future to—
then he could think of no one more fitting than the child before him.
"Well then. Those who know the future ought to keep at least a little mystery.
We should head back quickly now. With any luck, I may still catch the Great Hall's afternoon tea…"
Dumbledore smiled, as though he had set down some enormous burden.
Of course, his sins could never be erased, but at least he had finally been given a chance to atone.
Better still, dear Mr. Green had called him the best headmaster.
Oh, Merlin—what could be more satisfying than that?
Dumbledore hummed some tune under his breath, something faintly like the Christmas carol Professor Sprout had once taught the students.
He led Sean through the graveyard, laying flowers here and there, and a few moments later they came to a stop before a memorial.
Behind it stood statues of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a long-haired woman with a kind, beautiful face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother's lap.
"Do you think one day we'll be carved into stone too? Oh, and I'm not talking about the lucky black cat statue on the fourth floor."
Dumbledore said it with a smile.
He seemed even more fond of teasing people than usual.
"I…"
Sean never got to finish.
"I hope not, Sean. Let that fourth-floor statue be your last one."
As soon as Dumbledore said it, he took hold of the young wizard and Apparated away.
After all… statues are for remembering witches and wizards, and the living do not need memorials.
…
The rest of the summer term passed as though bathed in dazzling sunlight.
Summer vacation drifted closer and closer, carried on the whispered longing of every student.
In the blink of an eye, they would be boarding the Hogwarts Express home again.
The little group from the cottage had gathered together. Ordinarily, they could all have shared a compartment.
But no one had expected someone to still be in detention even during summer break.
"I bet he hates you too, Sean…"
Ron stretched his neck and looked around in all directions. Only after confirming Snape wasn't nearby did he whisper,
"But what could you and Harry possibly have in common? I'm guessing Quidditch. Snape has always hated people who play Quidditch…"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron!"
Hermione snapped at him.
"Hermione, then you tell me why."
Ron jutted out his neck stubbornly.
"Maybe it's your eyes—you and Harry both have green eyes! None of the rest of us do!"
He raised his voice again.
"Sean is staying behind to be an assistant! Mr. Weasley!"
Hermione had had enough.
"Huh?"
Ron looked dumbfounded.
"Sean, why would you rush to—"
Ron couldn't make sense of it.
"Not everyone is like you—getting an 'E' in Potions and still thinking Professor Snape is personally targeting you.
Calm down already. Mute."
Hermione flicked her wand and cast a small spell. Ron suddenly discovered he couldn't speak at all—it was as if he no longer had a mouth.
He kept patting his face in disbelief, and Justin burst out laughing.
Then Neville did too. Then Harry.
The cottage group always practiced spells with each other like this, and those little harmless spells actually made learning magic far more fun.
Sean usually practiced with Justin. Neville usually paired with Harry.
Hermione and Ron, oddly enough, had ended up together.
Her reason was simple: aside from herself and the perpetually hard-to-find Sean, she believed no one else in the world was capable of teaching Ron anything.
"I still can't believe you became a Hogwarts assistant. There's never been anything like that in Hogwarts history—a second-year wizard assistant. That's going to look incredible on your record—"
Hermione said it with a bright, expectant expression.
She looked exactly like Ron had the day before, when he'd transformed something into a mouse-headed, turtle-bodied monstrosity and set it on her desk.
"Will you even have time, Sean? I mean during the summer."
Justin was clearly more concerned about that.
"Professor Snape is giving me one week off," Sean thought for a moment and replied with a smile.
"One week!"
Ron had just had Hermione's spell lifted by Harry at that point, and he immediately shouted,
"I'm telling you, Sean, there's no end to studying magic!"
"Mute."
Hermione snapped her wand again.
"That's the second time today, Hermione. You've still got one attack turn left—"
Ron dodged with a tilt of his head, only to get hit by Hermione's follow-up spell a second later. He ended up slumping off miserably to Harry for help breaking it again.
"Now then, once you've finished eating, line up and follow me—"
Suddenly a bright voice rang out through the Great Hall. It was Professor McGonagall.
She had come to lead the students to the train.
~~~
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