Old Frank left.
He took with him the rumors that should have died long ago, and the walking stick that had kept him company for decades.
His "nephews," however, stayed behind, and Little Hangleton gained two more village men who left early and returned late.
By the end of December, there were still two weeks before the Hogwarts term ended.
The sky suddenly cleared, turning a bright, dazzling white like egg whites.
One morning, the muddy grounds were covered in a glittering layer of frost.
Sean stepped over the muddy ground and, as he crossed the grass, casually glanced at his shoes. Just like that, the mud-spattered shoes shed their dirt and became clean again.
[You practiced the Cleaning Charm once at Master standard. Proficiency +300]
He held a book and walked past little groups of people, thinking about important matters.
For example, Mr. Frank.
They had cast a few Memory Charms on him appropriately, not to bury any secret part of the past, but to keep him farther away from danger.
Sean had always believed Mr. Frank's sacrifice was unnecessary. He had heard Voldemort's plan, bravely faced the most vicious part of wizardkind, and in the end fallen on that land.
Now, he could go somewhere new and begin a new life.
Thinking of this, a smile appeared on Sean's face.
But very soon, it turned expressionless again.
After all, there was still so much to do.
Nagini lay inside the Wizard's Book. She had completely forgotten her human identity, and the name Nagini no longer stirred even the slightest interest in her.
Sean knew that many spells, or curses, had counter-spells. Just like Sectumsempra, or ordinary Transfiguration.
But some powerful, rare spells had no counter-curse.
For example, the Killing Curse, and now the blood curse Sean had encountered.
Even the wise Ravenclaw had not recorded any method for dealing with such a rare and evil curse.
Fortunately, the fact that the wizarding world had no solution did not mean wizards were helpless in the world of souls.
Aside from Nagini, what Sean thought about more was magical circuits.
Ever since Headmaster Dumbledore had revealed the secret of magical circuits to him, Sean had gradually begun to understand the strange, oddly shaped symbols in Dumbledore's notes.
Without question, they were all parts of magical circuits.
Come to think of it, these sections were exactly the same as the parts in Professor McGonagall's notes. Sean had reason to believe that Headmaster Dumbledore had once taught Professor McGonagall the same way.
"Magical circuits are the foundation of advanced Transfiguration…"
Sean murmured to himself. With a casual wave of his wand, a squirrel by the Black Lake abruptly transformed into a lizard wreathed in flame.
[You practiced Magical Transfiguration once at Expert standard. Proficiency +50]
[Magical Transfiguration: Expert (50/30000)]
[Material Transfiguration: Expert (300/30000)]
[Soul Transfiguration: Skilled (50/3000)]
One practice gave fifty proficiency points. If he practiced twenty times a day, that would be one thousand points.
Seen that way, going from Expert to Master would only take about thirty days.
But Sean couldn't spend an entire day practicing only one spell, so that time would naturally be extended.
After a quick calculation, Sean estimated that at the latest, in four months, he could raise Transfiguration across the board to Master.
Even among professors, a Master-level proficiency was enough to be considered outstanding.
Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration, Professor Snape's Potions and Dark Magic—they were probably all at that stage.
Sean only hoped the proficiency requirement above Master would not be too high. Otherwise, it might take even longer for him to reach Legend.
On this still muddy December morning, what everyone least wanted was to spend two hours out on the grounds. Unexpectedly, Hagrid had prepared a pile of bonfires to cheer them up, each full of salamanders.
This class was especially interesting. The students gathered firewood and leaves to keep the flames burning, while the fire-loving lizards darted in and out of the crackling wood.
The afternoon Divination class was far less interesting. Professor Trelawney had started teaching them palmistry.
Whenever she got the chance, she would rush over to any student and tell them their life line was the shortest she had ever seen.
Today Ron had received her "favor." He spent the whole day listless, looking at his palm from time to time and wondering about his life line.
Which line was it, exactly?
But soon he had no time to worry about that.
In two days, Christmas would arrive.
The castle was filled with the busy atmosphere of Christmas.
Professor Flitwick had already decorated his classroom with colorful lights that would turn into real fairies and flutter their wings.
The students were happily discussing their holiday plans.
Everyone in Hope Cottage had decided to stay at Hogwarts.
Ron said it was because he couldn't bear spending two weeks with Percy. Hermione insisted she needed to use the library. Justin claimed Neville's Auror training had reached a critical stage. Neville was very grateful to him and secretly placed all kinds of pies on the little round table every day.
Naturally, Sean couldn't go back either.
His Time-Turner could only be used at Hogwarts, not to mention that he still had lessons with Headmaster Dumbledore.
Another week had passed since they returned from Little Hangleton, and Sean already missed the Headmaster's office very much.
Before the last lesson, his advanced Transfiguration had only reached the Skilled level within Master. But after understanding circuits, his advanced Transfiguration had undoubtedly become more precise and profound.
Now, even the Transfiguration he cast casually could reach Expert standard.
The Headmaster's office was quiet today too. The portraits were all sleeping.
Only Headmistress Dilys Derwent was awake. She seemed different from the other portraits; she had never much liked sleeping.
Oh, and she had always liked Sean very much.
"Here you are, little Green? Oh, it feels like I haven't seen you in ages. If only dear Dumbledore would hurry up and retire."
Dilys Derwent stood up, her long silver curls floating slightly, her clean, bright eyes showing undisguised appreciation.
"Good morning, Headmistress Derwent."
Sean said respectfully.
"Very few people look forward to my retirement. Horace keeps saying I'm long past retirement age—but as you can see, the wizarding world can still make room for one old man."
Dumbledore smiled faintly. Under his gaze, the door closed silently.
"Have you been enjoying yourself lately, Mr. Green?"
"Of course. And you?"
Sean found a seat and sat obediently.
"Not very well."
Dumbledore turned his gaze toward Headmistress Derwent's portrait.
"A respected lady keeps urging me to retire, but I think it is not yet time. What do you say?"
Sean nodded.
Dumbledore seemed quite pleased, and exchanged a look with Headmistress Derwent.
Sean saw the kind Headmistress Derwent sit back in her chair and turn her gentle gaze toward him again.
The round office was quiet. A breeze brushed past, and snow stuck to the windows like goose feathers.
"Today, we are going to learn an especially unique Transfiguration spell. Ah, I imagine you have already guessed what it is—"
Dumbledore said as he waved a hand for the teapot to pour hot tea.
"The Vanishing Spell?"
Sean asked.
"Exactly right. The Vanishing Spell is sometimes called the Transfiguration spell that most requires a wizard's confidence.
The Vanishing Spell is a little easier than the Summoning Charm you would normally begin practicing at N.E.W.T. level, but it remains the most difficult spell likely to appear in your O.W.L. exams."
Dumbledore spoke patiently.
"Then you can probably guess its principle. Very few wizards need to learn its principle. A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration says that a wizard only needs to maintain confidence—"
Dumbledore flexed his fingers, and a steaming cup of pumpkin juice arrived beside Sean.
"But I believe you need to learn it."
The principle of the Vanishing Spell?
Sean held the cup and thought seriously.
Headmaster Dumbledore's lessons never included anything meaningless. The Vanishing Spell had to have countless threads connecting it to the earlier lessons.
In the first lesson, Sean had learned to concentrate everything at a single point. His Transfiguration had thus become stronger and more controllable.
In the second lesson, Sean had learned to observe and break down magical circuits. His transformations had thus become more specific.
Concentrating at one point strengthened a wizard's order. Magical circuits carried a wizard's wisdom.
Then what about the Vanishing Spell?
What did Headmaster Dumbledore want to teach him through it?
"The Vanishing Spell is the absolute destruction of the environment. Its principle is the wizard's desire to erase everything.
The wizard forms a wish, and magic fulfills it."
Sean said while looking at the frozen window.
"Oh, I am very glad you did not tell me that it destroys magical circuits or give me some similar answer."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly, his long beard trembling faintly as he spoke.
"Not all magic needs a principle. Magic has never cared about reason."
Sean said seriously.
He thought of what Miranda Goshawk had once mentioned in The Book of Spells: "When wizards develop a need, a spell will arise. If it does not, that only means the spell has not yet been discovered."
At the same time, Master Libatius Borage had also said: "And now I declare, when wizards develop a need, a potion will arise. If it does not, that only means the potion formula has not yet been discovered."
Their words revealed one truth: as vast as a wizard's wishes were, so too was magic deep.
"Very good words—"
Dumbledore stood up.
"And that will be our final lesson of the year—"
Sean was startled. December was indeed nearly over.
"Wizards who pursue wisdom will always gain wisdom. Wizards who pursue power will always gain power."
Dumbledore smiled meaningfully.
"What do you think is most important in that?"
"A wizard's barbaric confidence."
Sean considered his words.
"Or perhaps blindness."
"That is the best answer I have heard so far. So, do not always let your wisdom judge whether you can accomplish something. Sometimes, we can be a little more barbaric, perhaps a little more blind."
Dumbledore's deep eyes stared straight at Sean.
"That depends on you, child."
He raised his hand, and The Wizarding Chronicle of Magic on the desk floated up.
Its pages flipped rapidly.
Sean saw it pause at several key points.
The first was The Blind Age. The second was The Age of Order. And the third was The Age of Wisdom.
Sean felt as if his mind had once again been shaken. It was not easy to think clearly for a while.
He sat in the chair, thinking of Dumbledore's words, thinking of the principles Dumbledore had taught him across these three lessons.
"How does a wizard maintain confidence?"
Sean couldn't help asking.
Headmaster Dumbledore did not answer immediately. He held his wand and gave it a light wave. A tiny stream appeared in midair.
The stream flowed naturally, and soon encountered an artificial threshold.
It struck the threshold, crossed it, and its speed increased slightly. Then it encountered a higher threshold. Because it flowed downward from above, and because it was fast enough, it quickly crossed that one as well.
Just like that, the stream circled the entire Headmaster's office, circling Sean, who had unconsciously begun feeding the phoenix. The water grew faster and faster, splashing loudly, as if nothing could stop it.
"Your magic is too proper, little Green. That, in fact, makes you unlike a wizard."
Dumbledore waved his wand again, and everything vanished.
"A wizard ought to do something excessive now and then."
The Christmas holidays arrived.
By then, in other parts of the castle, the colorful Christmas decorations had been set up as in previous years, even though there were few students left to appreciate them.
Thick garlands of holly and mistletoe had been strung along the corridors, and mysterious lights sparkled inside every suit of armor.
As usual, twelve Christmas trees stood in the Great Hall, golden stars shining on their branches.
A rich, tempting cooking aroma drifted through the corridors, though for once it did not tempt Sean as it usually would.
Parchment floated beside him, and the quill scratched rapidly.
Justin and Hermione walked curiously behind him, watching words like "magical plasticity" and "the theory of magical limits" appear on the parchment. They didn't fully understand them, but they sounded impressive.
"So we can know that magic possesses infinite possibilities. This infinity is not only reflected in the breadth of magic, but also in its endless capacity for advancement.
Wizarding history rarely mentions the advancement of magic, but does that mean magical advancement does not exist?
Magic, this power of the mind—how does it evolve and become stronger?
Naturally, it grows stronger as a wizard becomes more certain.
The principle is very simple. When a wizard establishes stable order and believes strongly enough that he can accomplish something, then he can accomplish it.
Likewise, when a wizard believes he can accomplish something more difficult, and he continually breaks through his own limits, then he can do things beyond his ability—"
The quill wrote faster and faster, and the young wizard grew more and more excited.
"This is the plasticity of magic. A power of the mind means it can break through within a wizard's heart.
If a wizard can constantly break through his limits, then the limit is no longer a limit."
"What limit?"
Ron had also come over by then. He stared at the parchment along with everyone else and asked curiously.
"Don't talk—I was just about to understand it—"
Hermione was clearly displeased by his interruption.
"Alright—"
Ron quickly lowered his voice.
"I'm just saying, if any of you checked your magic hand mirrors, you'd know how lively it is in there today."
~~~