The alchemy professor, robed and silver-haired, gave her colleagues a polite nod.
"Professor McGonagall. Professor Snape."
The two who had been arguing just moments ago fell silent and nodded back.
"Albus, you know… just as we suspected, that child…"
The moment Professor Tayra stepped into the room, she began speaking urgently.
Both McGonagall and Snape turned toward her. Snape's black eyes were icy, while McGonagall's brows drew together.
"This Christmas, I'll be taking him with me. Eugenia Herrera couldn't be more pleased—it seems Ilvermorny is expecting us…"
As she spoke, the professor noticed the atmosphere in the room shift.
Dumbledore rose from the high-backed chair behind his desk, his pale blue, penetrating gaze drifting toward the window—
where an owl was swooping in.
"Take him away?"
McGonagall fixed Tayra with an unblinking stare.
A strange expression crossed Tayra's face. She paused, then asked:
"He didn't tell you?"
"Please—speak—" Snape's voice was low and dangerously tight, an effort to contain his irritation.
"Albus… I have to say this…"
She had meant to speak directly to Dumbledore, but recognizing the identities of the two standing beside him, she hesitated, then continued with renewed confidence:
"Little Grynn is the most extraordinary young wizard I've ever met. He may not possess only one restored soul.
He mentioned a wildcat—a panther—I believe that's his second restored soul."
Inside the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore's beard curled upward in amusement as he retrieved the snow-dusted letter from the owl's talons. He watched the scene before him with warm delight.
"Young people… how wonderful. To feel love so deeply…"
As if responding to his words, Minerva McGonagall slammed her palms against the desk.
"Impossible! Olivia!"
In many Celtic, Scandinavian, and Germanic legends, certain animals—like boars, does, and stags—are directly linked to witches and wizards.
These otherworldly creatures often choose a person, becoming their guardian form and staying by their side. They symbolize destiny, embodying both human and animal nature.
Destiny—a mysterious word indeed.
Witches and wizards have always been able to glimpse the shape of their fate through their Animagus or soul-forms. For example, stags and does—whether in Norse myths or magical lore—are always creatures of guidance and sacrifice.
So how could a wizard possibly possess more than one animal form?
How could he break away from the fate assigned to him and grow new branches from its trunk?
"It's the truth, Minerva," Professor Tayra said with certainty.
She'd already guessed enough about the dynamics in the office to know:
in the end, she would be allowed to take young Grynn.
The people who cared most about him were gathered here. Which meant… they would eventually make way for what was best for him.
McGonagall drifted into a dazed silence, torn by a complicated instinct:
She wanted him to be exceptional… yet part of her wished he weren't too exceptional.
"Hmph."
Snape gave a cold snort, his eyes sweeping over Dumbledore with irritation.
While Tayra and McGonagall discussed the intricacies of soul-forms and Ilvermorny's curriculum, Snape stood by quietly—looking, oddly enough, like a student attending a lecture.
It had been years since he'd shown this level of focus outside the realm of Dark Arts or Potions.
After all, the two witches speaking before him had once been his own professors.
And Dumbledore had once been McGonagall's professor.
In the thick snowfall outside, Hogwarts' faculty positions felt like a lineage—responsibility passed down, flowing through the veins of every witch or wizard who loved magic.
The kettle gurgled. Silver utensils clattered against one another.
Dumbledore's eyes softened. He stood at the wooden table, smiling broadly at the group before him—nothing made him happier than seeing his students gathered together.
Only after a long while did he lower his gaze and open the letter from far-off New York:
[Professor Albus Dumbledore,
Headmaster's Office,
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry;
Professor Dumbledore,
I have arrived safely at Ilvermorny.
—Your faithful,
Newt Scamander]
---
Christmas arrived.
The castle, already decorated for the season, gleamed even more brilliantly on Christmas Eve. As always, dazzling holiday ornaments were hung throughout the halls—though hardly any students remained to admire them.
The corridors were draped again with thick garlands of holly and mistletoe. Every suit of armor shimmered with a mysterious inner light.
In the Great Hall, the twelve towering Christmas trees sparkled with golden stars. The scent of rich, delicious cooking wafted through the corridors—so strong that even a half-asleep Baiyi perked up on Sean's shoulder and stared toward the Great Hall.
The term had ended, and a silence as heavy as the snow blanketed the castle.
Sean flipped through Ilvermorny's introduction booklet by the crackling fire, feeling peaceful rather than bored.
When he finally reached the Great Hall, his seat was piled high with presents.
"Merry Christmas, Sean!"
Justin always spotted him the moment he entered a room.
"Merry Christmas," Sean replied, settling comfortably into the cozy holiday atmosphere—heavy snowfall outside, friends gathered around the fire.
He had received many gifts—so many they nearly reached Justin's spot.
Baiyi had spent the entire night delivering them.
The most eye-catching was a set of potions worth several thousand Galleons, followed by a gleaming Nimbus 2001.
In the corner of the crystal bottle was a tiny note: [Drink.]
Short as always.
Harry stared longingly as Sean set the Nimbus 2001 back down.
It was the latest model—identical to the one he'd watched the Slytherin team practice with every day, the broom he'd dreamed of owning. The handle shimmered as if aware it was being admired.
"Sean, who sent you this?"
Ron whispered, unable to suppress his excitement.
"My goodness—who would spend that much money on you?"
Hermione gasped, then reconsidered.
"Well… there are quite a few possibilities."
"A professor," Sean answered.
He unwrapped the broom, and a small cat-shaped slip of parchment floated out, sprang onto his palm, and unfolded itself:
[When there's no time to rest, that's when you must rest.
Do something that makes you happy.
My child, remember—there is no studying during the holidays.]
Sean was quiet for a long time before carefully tucking away both letters.
Outside, snow was falling thickly. According to the papers, it was snowing across all of Scotland.