The three-headed dog incident was a brief interlude that barely rippled Sean's life at Hogwarts.
Flitwick's notes, on the other hand, helped him a great deal. The explanations were still hazy, but even in the haze you could trace the outlines of knowledge.
[On the wand motion for Aguamenti: it is commonly described as a "diagonal upward arc."
In The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, Miranda Goshawk likens it to "the curve of a fountain's spray"—vivid and intuitive, good for helping beginners form a mental picture.
However, in her later Book of Spells, this was revised to "the graceful arc of a natural stream striking stone."
Regrettably, I have not heard Miss Goshawk publicly explain the reason for this change.
In practice, though, the latter motion yields smoother magical channeling and more stable results—something I have verified many times in teaching.
We may therefore infer the revision was not arbitrary, but based on a deeper understanding of the charm.]
"I think I've got it—"
The Saturday lethargy of Hogwarts hadn't seeped into the owl-guarded classroom. Early in the morning, two heads were bent over a desk full of books, deep in study. In the corner, steam from three cups of honey-lemon tea curled into the air, softening two intent faces.
"Want to try it?" Sean said to the witch beside him after staring at the passage for a long while.
"Of course—Agua—men—ti!"
Hermione's wand traced a natural arc, and a thin trickle flowed from its tip and splashed onto the floor.
"It needs to be higher, livelier… oh, what am I even saying…" She tried to put her feeling into words and found, like the book, she was being vague. She sighed and looked to Sean, hoping he understood.
"A bigger arc, a faster sweep—right?" Sean cleaned the splash with Scourgify, then described it carefully, and Hermione's eyes grew brighter.
"Agua—men—ti!"
[You practiced Aguamenti once at Apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
[Aguamenti: Locked (27/30)]
[Summoning Charm: Locked (1/30)]
[Levitation Charm: Novice (200/900)]
In half a day, Sean had nearly ground Aguamenti to unlock—thanks in no small part to Hermione's help. Miss Granger clearly had a gift for charms; no wonder she would later become Flitwick's favorite.
He Scourgified the floor again and, before exhaustion fully set in, squeezed in a few more casts.
[You practiced Aguamenti once at Apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
[You practiced Aguamenti once at Novice standard. Proficiency +3]
[Aguamenti unlocked]
Not too hard.
But the drain wasn't pleasant—Sean felt he could hardly lift his wand. He and the equally tired Hermione exchanged a look, both eyes bright with the thrill of a new charm.
"And the Summoning Charm—Flitwick's notes say: when summoning an unknown item, you don't need its exact name, but you must know an attribute of it. It's not that summoning living things is impossible, but most living things can't be summoned, and those that can usually aren't worth summoning…"
A mouthful if you weren't Hermione. Anyone else would be lost; Sean, who'd burned through the whole notebook with her by lamplight, understood fine.
After the three-headed dog incident, Hermione had thrown herself even deeper into charms—perhaps under the press of danger—and often discussed magic with Sean.
As for Justin, something had happened between him and Harry; when he learned Hermione had insisted on going along, his bluster softened. Hermione wasn't speaking to Harry and Ron now, but Justin had revised his view of Harry:
"Sean, Harry is so different from what I thought. When I talked to him, he even apologized for Hermione—his face didn't look fake at all… We talked a bit. Honestly, if I ran into the kind of trouble that Slytherin boy caused, I'd struggle not to break a rule myself."
He sighed. "If this taught me anything, it's don't judge without the full picture—Mother was right."
Sean nodded and slipped out of the room. He found himself very curious about Mrs. Finch-Fletchley; the woman surely blazed with light.
Left alone, Justin somehow managed to pass Hermione a slip of parchment:
[Sorry, Granger]
Unexpected, yet perfectly in character.
Even in first year, Harry showed precocious steadiness. Raised under the Dursleys' bullying and neglect, he hadn't grown twisted or timid; instead he'd nurtured a quiet kindness and a fierce hunger for fairness.
Of all the first-years, Sean perhaps understood that feeling best—they were both orphans. If Sean's character was propped up by a strong sense of self that kept him from going astray, then Harry's was simple resilience.
He was never a bad kid or a mindless bruiser. If Sean had to label him, he'd say Harry was a war orphan who deserved a little extra grace. Those childhood years the original books sketched in a few strokes were long, damp, and dark enough to last.
So Sean didn't see Dumbledore bringing Quirrell to Hogwarts, or laying traps on the fourth floor, as something to complain about. If Harry didn't grow, and Dumbledore didn't use the chance to flush out the double agent, who would face Voldemort?
The only thing was to stay as far from Quirrell as possible.
He exhaled softly. Warm wind lifted his hair and brightened his green eyes. Mist rose from the rain-washed grass; a clean loam scent blew in, and from the stands came a faint must of oak benches soaked by night dew.
Sean found Madam Hooch gathering brooms and strode over.
"Madam Hooch, could I practice broom flight here? I won't be long," he asked, a little stiffly.
"Oh? Who do you think I was waiting for, Mr. Green? Use this one," she said, hawk eyes flicking over him as she tossed a well-kept Shooting Star his way.
"Thank you."
Sean swung on in one smooth motion. Whether it was in his head or not, he clearly felt the fatigue from spell practice ease just a little.
~~~
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