Testing that theory wouldn't actually be too hard.
If Wisdom was merely the extension of a wizard's inner Order, then reality itself ought to change in accordance with the wizard's heart.
Which meant that if Sean could reshape a spell, alter its magical effect, and then discover a different set of external rules for it, he could prove that a wizard's path depended more on inner Order than on external Wisdom.
For example: if Sean could forcibly alter the Lumos Charm into something like a Blazing Light Charm while keeping the original incantation and wand movement, then later find a better-matched incantation, rune structure, and gesture for that stronger light spell, it would prove that wizards were changing the world—not merely conforming to the world's existing rules.
Oh, it was a fascinating thought.
It would be difficult, perhaps completely wrong.
But that didn't dampen Sean's joy in the slightest. Digging deeper into the mysteries of magic always stirred a wizard's heart.
He felt a long-lost sense of passion and calling, like those late nights reading Master Libatius Borage's books, sensing the guidance of deeper magic, sensing the wizarding race's unending exploration and journeying forward.
The quill came to a stop. The roast lamb in front of him was still steaming.
Sean let out a long breath, then turned to today's newspaper.
[A preview of Newt Scamander's first new book in years — You still don't know about this? Merlin, how dare you call yourself a Scamander fan?]
Sean had a faintly bad feeling.
He drew the paper closer and could see Mr. Scamander smiling shyly in the moving photograph.
At that moment, the magical radio on the table crackled to life.
In the past, Sean had occasionally used it to study the possibility of combining magic and science. Now, though, it was producing a rather different kind of sound.
As always, the radio was usually filled with celebrity trivia:
The Weird Sisters being mobbed by fans after performing at Durmstrang, for example; or a song by the famous witch singer Celestina Warbeck being plagiarized.
But also as always, when the radio did start reporting proper news, it meant it was an important story for that period of time.
The last time Sean had heard important news had been on Professor Terra's radio, just after returning from the International Alchemy Conference, when the entire magical world was buzzing about one name.
The time before that, it had been Lockhart's arrest—the second Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was still imprisoned in distant Azkaban.
Now the radio had switched on again.
"Will this really be your last book, Mr. Scamander?"
A woman's voice came through, trying very hard to suppress her excitement.
"…Yes."
It took Sean only a second to recognize the shy Hufflepuff senior.
"Did you just say…"
"Yes. Gods may exist."
"What an astonishing thing to say! If gods do exist, what do they look like?"
"A black cat."
Sean sat in silence for a moment, then quietly switched the radio off.
When he looked up, the high table had fallen silent too.
"Why not turn it back on?"
Dumbledore said with a blink.
"If you insist."
Sean set the radio back on the table. Dumbledore's smile only grew kinder.
The scene was oddly harmonious: a young wizard listening with unease to the broadcast, while a group of elderly wizards looked on with lively interest, gathering around the radio and sitting together like it was a proper tea party.
Some of the professors were interested because it involved Newt Scamander, a great magical-creature master.
Others were interested for exactly the opposite reason.
"A black cat? What kind of black cat?"
The radio resumed.
"A black one."
"Mm…"
Sean could hear the host trying not to laugh.
"So, listeners, Mr. Scamander insists that our god is a black cat…"
Sean strongly suspected the host had been professionally trained, because otherwise she would have burst out laughing by now.
"No."
"What did you say?"
"It isn't a black cat. That's just the form it takes. And it may not even be a god. It may simply be a powerful magical creature.
Our impression of it is like a Muggle's impression of magical creatures. They can't understand magic, so they can't understand magical beings.
We can't understand magic that's stronger than ours, so we can't understand gods."
"You mean to say…"
"Not so long ago, I encountered it the same way I did powerful magical creatures in my youth.
If I had been the first wizard to encounter a Demiguise, I would have thought it a god that vanishes in an instant. If I had been the first to encounter a Thunderbird, I might have thought it a god of storms."
"So when did you meet it?"
The host now sounded tense and eager.
"When I needed it. Miss Bryna, have you ever dreamed?"
"Of course, Mr. Scamander. I had a wonderful dream just last night."
"Dreams make our fantasies possible. In dreams, we can even cross the boundary between life and death. That is what I encountered.
Guided by it, I crossed the boundary of death and embarked on a great adventure.
I wrote it all into my book, and I called it:
the sovereign of dream and mist, the bridge between life and death, the symbol of everlasting good fortune—"
Newt stopped there.
"What's its name?"
The host asked, a little breathless.
"I didn't ask."
"Oh, Mr. Scamander!"
This time even the professionally trained host couldn't keep her composure.
"But I call it Bastet. I hope it likes the name."
…
That was where the broadcast ended.
There was no continuation only because Sean had quietly slipped out of the Great Hall.
He hadn't expected Mr. Scamander to go back and write an entire book.
The feeling he had now was like being the fisherman from the Peach Blossom Spring story—finding paradise by accident, then regretting it so much that he never wanted to be let back in.
"Dear Bastet?"
An old wizard walked past him in the corridor, smiling.
"Oh, dear Bastet… Merlin, what a delightful name. I must write to him at once…"
Even after the old wizard was gone, the corridor still seemed to hold his laughter.
Sean sighed and unfolded the paper again.
There was something important in it he still needed to read.
The Daily Prophet devoted huge amounts of space to retelling Mr. Scamander's strange adventure from every possible angle. The other reports only took up a relatively small part of the paper.
Sean read carefully before finally finding what he had been looking for.
[Ministry Employee Wins Grand Prize]
Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won this year's Daily Prophet Grand Galleon Draw.
~~~
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