Night fell deep. Outside, trucks thundered over rain soaked roads.
London was marching toward finance, Canary Wharf rising like a monument to money, but on the orphanage's street, garbage bags still piled up uncollected.
Inside, the smell of disinfectant never quite masked the staleness in the air. Exhausted matrons shuffled about, while children watched with the guarded eyes of wounded animals.
Sean curled up beneath a thin, synthetic blanket, sleeping soundly.
Not long ago, he had tested his newly unlocked green talent.
His only thought was:
What kind of miserable life have I been living until now?
Turns out, three tries could now yield one successful cast.
Turns out, wizards could actually feel the right way to pronounce a spell.
Take Scourgify—he had always thought it was "Scour—g—ify." But tonight, on a hunch, he tried "S—cour—g—ify."
And just like that, he triggered his first [Proficient Cast].
Ten whole points of proficiency in one go.
Five days of effort… in five seconds.
No wonder talent mattered so much in the wizarding world. For the first time, Sean truly felt it.
Tomorrow, Professor McGonagall would come to collect him. He had to make a good impression, at least enough to hit the minimum standard for a scholarship.
What exactly was the scholarship standard for first-years? Sean didn't know. But he was sure he could meet it.
Not for any special reason. Just sheer stubbornness.
As long as he kept learning magic, he swore he'd climb to the very top of the wizarding world.
With that dream warming him, Sean drifted into sleep.
September 1st, 1991.
The day Sean left the orphanage.
He packed quickly. Just two shirts and two pairs of trousers that still fit. Everything else was either too big or too small.
Dragging a cheap suitcase to the door, he realized with a start how little in this world truly belonged to him.
"Sean, don't come crawling back when you can't pay your school fees! You'll regret it!"
Matron Anna's heavy body swayed with every step, her tone as sharp and bitter as ever.
"No need to worry about me, Square Auntie! Let's hope you don't get laid off after the latest budget cuts! With your record, unemployment's a sure thing!"
He bolted before she could recover, leaving her screeching curses behind him.
The slang in her tirade went over his head. He just assumed it was foul language.
Finally—finally—he'd gotten to snap back at her. This "walking cylinder" who had ignored the boy's deadly illness, who was partly responsible for his predecessor's death.
Only Sean knew that story. Only the Sean from another world carried that memory.
So yes, yelling at her was a small way of collecting interest on that debt.
Once, he would never have dared. Today, he didn't hesitate.
Damn, Sean, look at you. You're really something.
Smiling, he jogged toward the peeling front door. The faded "Oak Children's Home" plaque hung crookedly, coughing out dust with every gust of wind.
And beneath it—
Professor McGonagall stood waiting. Square glasses. Black hair pulled into a high bun. Deep green robes matched with a tartan blouse, radiating a strict dignity.
But when her eyes landed on the thin boy running toward her, her lips curved upward, just slightly.
"Professor McGonagall, sorry to keep you waiting!"
Sean puffed up to her side. His lungs ached after just a few steps, but he always ran to meet her.
He had done the same when they went shopping. And when she asked why, he had whispered so faintly it was almost lost:
"Important people… you should run to meet them."
The stern cat-lady hadn't said a word then, but her heart had melted like snow on warm stone.
"You could walk slower, Mr. Green. We have plenty of time."
Her voice, unlike her expression, was gentle. She reached for his hand—
And noticed he was staring at her, cautious but intent.
"S—cour—g—ify."
With a flick of his wand, the dust vanished from her hair.
"Dirt… doesn't belong… on your head."
Sean was still gasping for breath. His voice was quiet, but stubborn.
McGonagall blinked, surprise and warmth flashing across her eyes.
"A proper Scouring Charm. How long did it take you to learn that, Mr. Green?" she asked, walking him forward hand in hand.
"Yesterday, Professor."
Sean's head dipped, his words tinged with nervousness and doubt.
"You've done very well, Mr. Green. I believe you really can earn that scholarship."
She had caught his caution. Her smile softened as she offered encouragement.
Sean stayed silent, just lifted his wide eyes toward her for a moment before dropping them again.
Inside, though, he was popping champagne.
Coming from McGonagall, those words meant the scholarship was already half his. Playing the pitiful orphan might not have been noble, but if it bought him a way out of that deadly orphanage, Sean had no choice.
His weak body needed rest, and that scholarship was the best hope he had.
And sure enough, her next words confirmed it.
"Headmaster Dumbledore has approved it. Within your first month, if you earn an 'Outstanding' in all seven subjects, you'll receive a six-hundred-Galleon scholarship."
McGonagall delivered the news with calm formality, but Sean's heart nearly burst from his chest. She waited, perhaps expecting a smile.
Instead, he only lowered his head further.
After a long pause, his voice came soft and hesitant:
"…Thank you, Professor. I read that Hogwarts doesn't normally give first-years scholarships. Thank you for making this possible… for letting me study magic."
He spoke no more.
Those words had been from the heart.
McGonagall blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then slowly, her smile and her heart softened together.
"This is what you deserve, Mr. Green. You don't need to thank me for it."
A quick glance, only to catch him sneaking yet another shy look at her. For the third time.
"How long have you been practicing spells?" she asked before they reached the platform.
"Thirteen hours, Professor."
"…In total?"
Her eyes flickered, suddenly heavy.
"Every day."
King's Cross roared with voices, luggage, and steam. Sean dragged his suitcase through the crowd, struggling to keep up.
"Behind that barrier is the Hogwarts Express. Don't be afraid, just walk right through, Mr. Green."
Her words echoed in his head as he stared at the solid brick wall. Even knowing it would work, his stomach knotted with nerves.
But if McGonagall was still watching…
He clenched his teeth, shut his eyes, and stepped forward.
From her perspective, the boy hadn't hesitated at all. He had simply charged into the wall without a second thought.
"That child trusts you deeply, Minerva."
A calm, aged voice spoke beside her.
"Seven Outstandings in one month… that's no simple task. Do you truly believe he can do it?"
The White Wizard chuckled lightly, half in curiosity.
"Albus, even if only one student in all of Hogwarts could manage it, I would believe that student is Sean."
McGonagall's gaze was steady. Her mind was still caught on his words: thirteen hours a day.
Even at her most obsessive, she had never sustained such intensity for months on end.
Certainly not like the mischievous students she wrangled every year.
"Sean is a poor child… but also a good, responsible one. He deserves that scholarship."
After a long silence, that was her verdict.