The Extension Charm had all kinds of practical uses, for example:
Hermione's future beaded handbag — the one that held books, clothes, tents, potions, Slytherin's locket, and even the Sword of Gryffindor.
That little bag played a critical role during Harry, Ron, and Hermione's hunt for Horcruxes.
Then there was the Weasleys' future tent — a shabby two-person Muggle tent on the outside, but inside? It looked like an old-fashioned flat with multiple bedrooms and a kitchen.
And of course, Arthur Weasley's flying Ford Anglia — Mr. Weasley freely admitted he'd enchanted the car so the interior could comfortably fit eight people, six trunks, two owls, and a rat.
Naturally, the most famous example of all was Newt Scamander's suitcase.
The inside of that suitcase had been expanded into an enormous space filled with countless magical habitats, used to house and care for his magical creatures.
Speaking of magical creatures…
On the castle's third floor, Sean naturally stepped into the Headmaster's office.
The spacious, beautiful circular room was filled with portraits of former headmasters—most of whom were dozing.
Sean wasn't alone in the room.
Perched on a tall gilt stand behind the door was an elderly-looking bird, shabby and half-plucked, resembling a disgruntled turkey that had seen better days.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Fawkes."
Sean looked at the phoenix.
A clear, ringing hum filled the room — almost like singing.
Sean stealthily fed Fawkes a few herbs: some daffodil petals, aconite root, things of that sort.
[You have earned 'Phoenix (Fawkes)' Affection +1 at Apprentice Level]
Hearing the chime of the system panel made Sean straighten up a bit reverently as he fed the bird.
It was notoriously difficult to raise Fawkes's affection. Even though he had been quietly "sneaking" treats to the phoenix for ages, this was the first time the affection level actually increased.
As Sean watched him, Fawkes suddenly paused, turning toward him with weary, sorrowful eyes, letting out a strangled, raspy cry—
He sounded terribly ill.
The phoenix's eyes were dull, and while Sean watched, a few more tail feathers fluttered to the ground.
By the time he finished feeding him, Fawkes suddenly burst into flames.
It was almost as if Sean's feeding had caused his death.
Sean now understood why Fawkes had seemed so cheerful earlier.
In an instant, the phoenix became a blazing fireball.
He let out a final wail, then vanished, leaving behind only a small pile of still-smoldering ashes on the floor.
"How terrifying—"
Sean forced himself to look appropriately shaken.
Lowering his gaze, he saw a tiny, wrinkled baby bird poking its head out of the ashes.
It immediately jabbed Sean's robes with its beak in irritation.
As if accusing him of overacting.
"My apologies, sir," Sean said.
[You have earned 'Phoenix (Fawkes)' Affection +1 at Apprentice Level]
The newborn Fawkes gave a shake of his tiny head and toddled off to eat.
Just then, the office door opened and Dumbledore walked inside, chuckling.
"Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore. Um—well—your phoenix just suddenly caught fire—"
Sean began cautiously.
"Ah, he didn't manage to confuse you, then. I suppose it was about time. He's looked dreadful for days, and I've been urging him to get on with it.
"Mr. Green, I believe you already knew. Fawkes is a phoenix.
"When a phoenix nears the end of its life, it bursts into flames and is reborn from the ashes. You've just watched him… and he was looking quite as miserable as an aging bird can."
Dumbledore settled into the chair behind his desk.
"A pity, though, that you had to see him on his Burning Day.
"Most of the time he is magnificent — shimmering red and gold plumage. Phoenixes are truly extraordinary creatures.
"They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears possess healing powers, and they are fiercely loyal companions."
Dumbledore smiled gently at Sean, whose eyes were now shining with excitement.
This boy only ever showed emotion when magic itself was involved… his devotion to magic, placed in anyone else, might have been reassuring — but with Sean, it only made Dumbledore uneasy.
Sean felt more and more that he needed to visit the Headmaster's office more often.
Teleportation, carrying loads, healing, resurrection…
Phoenixes possessed far too many miraculous abilities. Sean remembered that they weren't even vulnerable to the Killing Curse.
A Killing Curse simply forced a phoenix to undergo rebirth, reverting to its fledgling form — because phoenixes cannot truly die.
During the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Fawkes had swallowed a Killing Curse whole.
Unfortunately…
Even after countless visits to the office, and all the sneaking around to feed Fawkes, Sean had only managed to raise the phoenix's affection to a measly three points.
And he knew that crafting ritual magic for a creature like Fawkes would be extraordinarily complex.
Fortunately, he still had plenty of time — and better yet, Sean was accustomed to living alongside time.
By the time he stepped out of the Headmaster's office, the sky had gone gray.
Christmas was nearly upon them, and Sean still didn't know whether he'd be allowed to leave Hogwarts.
Meanwhile, back in the office…
"Albus, Christmas is here," Minerva McGonagall said, watching the snow fall past the window. She handed him a leave request.
"Oh, certainly. But—"
Dumbledore blinked, as though suddenly remembering the mountain of administrative work waiting on his desk.
"Severus has already requested detention duty. The timeframe is…"
"From September first… to September first… no holidays… every single year—utter nonsense!" McGonagall's eyebrows shot up. She glared at Dumbledore as though silently accusing him of approving such a ridiculous schedule.
"Minerva, concerning your household… holiday matters, I really shouldn't interfere too much."
Dumbledore folded his hands, casting a glance across the desk, his smile widening—
He still had an entire plate of lemon drops and cockroach clusters…
McGonagall glared once more at Dumbledore's amused expression and turned to head toward the dungeons.
"I mean, must you go now? Severus is just about to arrive… about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position."
Dumbledore said gently.
"You can't possibly agree — that position is cursed."
McGonagall froze for a moment.
Just then, the door flew open and a swirl of black smoke swept inside.
The kettle in the office sputtered loudly as voices rose, the circular room soon filled with argument.
The atmosphere slowly dissolved into an uncomfortable silence.
Moments later, Professor Tyra burst in, looking delighted.