While the students attended their afternoon classes, Sean remained busy.
Ever since that first-year Charms lesson—when Cassius had accidentally turned the Levitation Charm into something dangerously offensive—Sean had developed the idea of creating his own spell.
Back then, he hadn't used his Magic vision to observe Cassius's casting, so he never figured out which part of the spell framework had gone wrong. Even Cassius himself had no clue. The result had been pure coincidence.
After that, Sean's time was consumed by learning several advanced spells, so only this year did he finally have the time to focus on developing his own magic.
At the start of term, he had asked Professor Flitwick about the spell Oppugno. Flitwick had been surprised—it was something typically taught in sixth year—but considering Sean's talent, skipping ahead wasn't unthinkable.
Flitwick had provided detailed study materials, even including his own handwritten notes. For most students, that would have been invaluable.
But Sean didn't need them.
All he needed was one demonstration.
Flitwick had generously performed the spell in front of him, and Sean had memorized the structure of its magical framework.
Now, over five months later, Sean's original spell was finally taking shape.
Even with just seven magical frameworks, it had taken him nearly half a year—proof of how difficult creating a new spell truly was.
Unlike other wizards, who relied on endless calculations and dangerous trial-and-error, Sean's method was far safer.
He didn't physically experiment with unstable frameworks. Randomly altering spell structures could lead to magical explosions—just like how Luna's mother had died.
Instead, Sean simulated everything within his Magic vision. Even if something went wrong, it wouldn't harm him.
Most of the time, failed frameworks simply produced no effect. Accidental outcomes like Cassius's were extremely rare.
Sean had modified the framework of Oppugno. Despite its impressive name, the spell merely caused objects to shoot toward a target repeatedly—its actual power was underwhelming.
A certain admiral once said, "Speed is weight."
If the speed increased, so would the power.
But Oppugno wasn't fast enough.
So, after five months of intermittent work, Sean finally completed his improved version.
"Needs a new name… Oppugno 2.0? Nah, that's terrible."
He fell into thought.
Then inspiration struck.
A satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"Wind Arrow. That's it."
And just like that, his first self-created spell received a rather chuunibyou-style name.
"Wind Arrow."
Sean raised his hand toward a quill on the desk. As a self-created spell, it required no wand.
The quill hovered in midair, trembling slightly as if gathering force.
With a flick of his fingers—
It shot forward like lightning, so fast his eyes could barely follow.
Sean walked to the wardrobe and opened the door.
The quill had pierced straight through a 1.5-centimeter-thick wooden panel. The shaft was embedded deep, with the tip protruding through the other side.
"Much stronger than Oppugno," Sean nodded in satisfaction.
Wind Arrow had an effective range of ten meters. Beyond that, its speed dropped and accuracy suffered, with a maximum reach of twenty meters.
He glanced at the clock.
Three in the afternoon.
With his new spell complete and time to spare, he decided to visit the hospital wing.
Ron had been injured during last night's trial. Fortunately, it wasn't serious. As Sean entered, Ron immediately sat up.
"Sean."
"How are you? Bad injury?" Sean asked, already knowing the answer.
"It's nothing. Madam Pomfrey said I can leave tonight," Ron said, moving around to show he was fine.
"By the way, if anyone asks how you got hurt, just make something up," Sean added.
"Dumbledore told me the same thing this morning. Is there some kind of secret?" Ron asked curiously.
Sean said nothing.
Dumbledore's deliberate secrecy about Hoff suggested that the Philosopher's Stone affair wasn't over. Sean didn't feel like digging deeper.
"Get some rest," he said before leaving.
At dinner, Sean was in a good mood, which meant he ate more than usual.
Chris, however, ate less.
Seeing her distracted expression, Sean guessed something was wrong.
"Chris, what's going on?"
She snapped back to reality and replied perfunctorily, "Nothing."
When a girl says "nothing," it usually means something.
That morning, Chris had received a letter from home.
Her grandfather, Barty Crouch Sr., informed her that her uncle, Barty Crouch Jr., had broken free from the Imperius Curse and escaped from the Crouch estate.
Back then, his mother had taken Polyjuice Potion to assume his appearance and take his place in Azkaban, dying in his stead.
But after being rescued, Barty Jr. had remained fanatically loyal to Voldemort. With no other choice, his father placed him under the Imperius Curse and confined him at home.
Now he was gone.
In truth, it wasn't Barty Jr. who broke free—it was Wormtail who helped him.
If the Ministry discovered him, the entire Crouch family would be implicated.
Her grandfather had warned her: if that happened, she must claim ignorance. The Ministry wouldn't punish a child.
Chris held no affection for her Death Eater uncle. Her parents—both Aurors—had been killed by Death Eaters while hunting down Voldemort's followers.
That was why she instinctively disliked him.
It was also why she had taken an interest in Sean back in Diagon Alley—a boy who survived the Death Eaters felt like a symbol of justice.
"Nothing? Then why are you eating so little? Dieting?" Sean teased.
"Yeah, I'm dieting," Chris replied casually.
"You? Dieting?" Cassius cut in. "Graham, look at Chris—she's already so thin and still dieting. And you're still eating!"
He slapped Graham's wrist, trying to knock away the fried chicken leg in his hand.
Sean didn't know what was weighing on Chris's mind, but since she didn't want to talk, he didn't press further.
If she wanted to say something, she would.
Ever since Sean gave up searching for Adam, he had been going to bed on time every night.
But tonight, Wormtail's actions would ensure he got no peace.
At 12:15 a.m., just as Sean was beginning to drift off—
A sudden noise jolted him awake.
Something was moving inside his bedside drawer.
It kept pushing against it.
The drawer wasn't locked.
After three thuds, it slid open—
And a piece of parchment flew out.
"Damn it—the Marauder's Map just flew out on its own!"
Sean shot up from bed instantly.
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