"Let's assume it's important, then!"
Michael looked incredulous and turned to Sean.
"Sean, promise me—one Ravenclaw counting windows is enough…"
Sean grew thoughtful; a light flickered in his eyes.
"Terry, may I ask—"
"Yes! Yes! He's trained Scarpin's Revela up to nonverbal level, so he spends all day studying the different materials in the windows—can you believe it? Sometimes even rain isn't made of the same stuff!" Michael answered, helpless.
"Sometimes rain is different!" Terry retorted, still blushing.
"Alright, alright," Michael soothed.
Sean's mouth quirked—looked like he'd found a way.
…
The Great Hall.
December hadn't even arrived, but Hogwarts was already taking a beating from gales and sleet—making the roaring hearths and thick walls feel especially safe.
As Sean discussed Scarpin's Revela with Terry, he realized this oddly behaved Ravenclaw was actually shy and modest. He chased unusual questions, but he didn't just talk—Hogwarts' windows truly were made of different materials. Terry even asserted:
"Oh—Sean, don't laugh, but I think the castle is alive!"
He glanced at Sean cautiously; at this point others usually smirked or frowned.
"I believe you…" Sean nodded.
"I'm not joking—wait, you do?!" Terry gasped.
"Why wouldn't I?" Sean said, plainly sincere.
"Oh—you believe it, Merlin! Then you've noticed how the tables in some halls shift in a pattern, not fixed in one order. Other rooms change too—size and shape—on a rhythm…"
Overjoyed, he rattled on. Sean nodded, pensive. Indeed, the Potions classroom showed subtle changes—easier to sense down in the dungeons. If the castle had intent—say, how it locked Umbridge out of the Head's office—then constant change seemed plausible.
Terry's enthusiasm spilled over; Sean listened closely. After a bit, Terry reddened—he'd been talking about himself too long. With their last minutes, he carefully spelled out his tips for Scarpin's Revela. Sean learned a great deal from his cadence and wandwork, and before leaving the Hall managed a smooth Apprentice-level cast.
Nearby, Justin had seen enough.
On one side, Sean was listening to a Ravenclaw speak about the castle—which drew Justin closer too (he was curious about Hogwarts, after all); on the other, Harry and Ron were showing Seamus their progress—Harry could now float fruit with Levitation and produce a small stream with Aguamenti.
Ron lagged a bit, but Professor Flitwick had praised him lately—and even added a point. He was riding high:
"Oh? How far are your spells? You don't even know? Ah—that's rough."
Ron only had a meager Apprentice Levitation and Beginner Lumos, but he still felt ahead of other first-years. He'd never imagined charms could be so straightforward, or that he'd one day track his learning. He'd thought it all a blur—vague teaching, muddled exams, a vague pass to muddle through… So when Seamus pressed him on what "progress" meant, he put on his wisest face and spouted all sorts of mysteries.
First-years love to show off. Though nothing about the Hope Nook leaked, Sean felt more eyes turning to him with fresh eagerness.
Just as he left the Hall, a blushing Seamus sidled up—clearly terrified, clearly put up to it—stammering:
"Great Sean, can you… make me smarter? Oh—I don't need much. I just want my wand to stop exploding."
Hearing that absurd plea, Sean sighed; he felt surrounded by Weasleys—three in a row. To the resident demolition expert, he said gently:
"Everyone has a gift, Mr. Finnigan. Perhaps you just haven't found how to use yours—yet."
…
A little later, in the Hope Nook.
A glass case sat on Sean's desk—Transfigured by him—to store the dozens of substances Professor Tayra had provided.
[You practiced Scarpin's Revela at an Apprentice level. Proficiency +1]
[You practiced Scarpin's Revela at an Apprentice level. Proficiency +1]
[You practiced Scarpin's Revela at an Apprentice level. Proficiency +1]
…
With steady practice, he unlocked the spell quickly. Leaving the Nook, Sean flicked his wand and turned a parchment into an owl, sending it winging toward Professor Tayra's office.
She might not receive it, but Sean's owl would linger for days. He used Transfiguration because Professor Tayra encouraged him to write by various Transfigurations—especially "outlandish" ones.
…
Unlike the Great Hall's hot hearths and thick walls, winter in the dungeons offered heat only from the cauldrons.
Severus Snape stood in the draft, a black silhouette poured in iron. His fingertips rested on a parchment whose corners the cauldron's heat had begun to curl. He was the first to know of this knowledge—and the only one.
His gaze seemed to pass through the flames and fix on nothing, falling instead on some cold memory.
For a long time the cauldron bubbled, then cracked its surface—like a thought that surfaced and was swallowed again. He did not move. It was as if all November's chill had pooled in his dark eyes.
Beside the parchment lay a roll book. After one name, a few words were written: [Guardian: None].
That tireless voice still echoed in his ear. He told himself: it's only that he could no longer tolerate that fool's idiocy!
His fingertip traced far-off places in London. And softly, the dungeon door was knocked.