A heavy snowfall wrapped Hogwarts in silver frost and thickened the longing between people.
Sean still had no letter to send, and he figured none would arrive.
A week slipped by with him shuttling between the dungeon, the Transfiguration office, and the Alchemy office.
Alchemy had unlocked—but his title hadn't:
[Floating Quill: Apprentice (1/300)]
[Craft three Apprentice alchemical constructs to unlock the Alchemy—Apprentice title]
As with most branches, he needed to complete a few simple alchemical items.
Meanwhile, Professor Tayra set a couple of tasks: craft a Howler, and make one alchemical item of his choice.
The Weasleys were eager for him to pick one of their wild ideas:
"Check this out! Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder!" Yesterday afternoon, in the corridor, Fred popped from behind a painting, clutching a sooty sphere. The moment he tossed it—pure black. Even Lumos and Incendio couldn't pierce it.
But Sean, eyes shut, could walk from corridor to Hall. So the twins' wish went ungranted.
"I told you the Hall's aroma is cheating—" Fred wailed, mock-despairing.
"So—why must I make one of your inventions?" Sean asked softly, eyeing their antics.
"Because all that old-hat stuff is boring—and if you use ours—" Fred was just waiting for the question, lighting up.
"Professor Tayra might take an interest!" George cut in.
"If she's interested, we can draw investment! All it takes is one line—'shows promise!'" Fred buzzed.
"Beauxbatons and Uagadou will drown us in Galleons," George winked.
"You'll understand Tayra's standing in alchemy soon enough," they chorused.
Sean ultimately chose Canary Creams (or some other Transfiguration food) as his practice item. With the Howler, he'd need both done before Christmas.
That meant learning each item's materials, fusion rituals, and runic arrays.
His schedule got tight again.
December arrived proper. One morning, Hogwarts woke to feet of snow; the lake froze iron-hard.
Sean left the castle with Tayra's notes. Outside, clusters of students ran wild, chasing through the drifts. Even though he could run and jump now, he still preferred a quiet corner.
With his new Beginner Incendio, he lit dry grass in a fire-safe jar and summoned two fire salamanders. They scorched paths across the snow and streaked off—until their flames faded and sank into Hogwarts' white.
He'd spent a long time thinking about what to Transfigure. With "living → living" at advanced level, he could only master one form in the time he had. The creature he'd observed most—and the most tempting choice—was the wizarding world's courier:
The owl.
He took a loose parchment; one flick, and a flurry of Transfigured owls leapt from his hand.
"Merlin—" Ron gaped.
"That's normal," Justin said gently. "Sean's Transfiguration outstrips some upper-years."
"Some? Try all," Ron muttered.
Since the Hope Nook set its pact, the six moved more and more in step. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville—housemates—often acted as one, usually to link up with Justin… and where Justin was, Sean wasn't far.
[You practiced an in-depth Intermediate Transfiguration once at an Expert standard. Proficiency +100]
The panel chimed. Even "in-depth" intermediate work was a drop against those hundreds of thousands—a reminder: only by pushing advanced Transfiguration would the gains keep pace. He hadn't forgotten that last Expert-level cast of advanced Transfiguration had granted ten times the usual proficiency.
Now his key task: transform "living" into owl.
McGonagall had given him beetles to experiment with and hammered home the secret of advanced Transfiguration.
As he studied her owl notes, Justin and Hermione, watching the swirling snow, seemed to have something "wake up" in their genes. Soon a snowball fight erupted.
Wizarding snowball fights differ from Muggle ones. When Justin dodged Hermione's first shot, she flicked her wand—incantation—and the snowballs came one after another. Knowing they were both Adept at Levitation but she held the edge, he didn't try to wrest snowball control—he went sideways: Aguamenti, then froze it into an ice wall.
Watching, Harry and Ron quietly put down their handfuls of snowballs and drew wands. Their Levitation, too, crept upward with practice.
"Where's Sean?" At a ceasefire, Hermione frowned toward the reader of notes.
"My mother says joy differs for everyone—but true friends feel one another's joy," Justin said, brow quirking. Sean happened to glance up—saw Harry and Ron try to ambush Hermione—then get turned into two snowmen—and the corner of his mouth lifted.
Against the blue-white, a few owls fought through the storm with mail, Hagrid rescuing their strength for the season.
"Take my giant snowball—Great Green!" rang a familiar voice. The fire salamander by Sean swelled and swallowed the snowball, then launched at Fred.
"Done for!" Fred yelped as it chased him in circles. George laughed himself breathless—until Fred barreled into him, and the salamander chased both in rings through the snow.
"Fred—" George yelped.
"George—" Fred bellowed back.