"Great Green!"
Before Sean even reached the house, the Weasley twins were already sticking their heads out of one of the Burrow's crooked windows.
Sean looked up and didn't see anyone—just heard a clatter-thump-thump as the twins barreled down the stairs.
"Before our guest sets foot in this house, you two had better clean up that swamp of yours!"
Mrs Weasley yelled.
The moment she turned back, though, her face softened into warmth.
"I don't mean you, dear. I know you're an alchemy genius—do whatever you like."
Fred and George glanced at each other, shrugged in perfect sync. Somehow, none of this felt surprising.
"Well? What are you waiting for! I don't want to see you fiddling with those horrible things in the house again—out to your father's pond!"
Mrs Weasley shouted at them again.
"You can do whatever you like, Mr Green," she added, turning back to Sean in a much gentler tone. "Just don't follow Fred and George."
"Remember? Mum always favours outsiders," Fred called as he dashed past. "Your jumper's miles better than ours."
Mrs Weasley smacked him with a feather duster and charged after him.
George only blinked innocently and led Sean into the Burrow.
The first thing in sight was a cramped but tidy kitchen and living room joined together with only a fireplace between them.
The kitchen was tiny and rather crowded, with a well-scrubbed wooden table and a few chairs. On the wall hung a clock with only one hand; instead of numbers, the dial read things like "Put the kettle on," "Feed the chickens," and "You're late."
Photos were glued to the hand—moving close-ups of Ron and the others.
Fred and George's heads were stuck together on a single little snapshot. As the hand swung, the two of them turned their heads to follow it.
"A bit shabby, but it's still a home," Fred said, sprinting in from the yard, stealing a second to whisper to Sean.
Mrs Weasley's feather duster smacked down on his backside and he yelped, fleeing up the stairs.
"He's done for," George said cheerfully. "There's a swamp upstairs."
Sure enough, they soon heard Fred's cries for help.
"Mum, would you pull me out? Oh, Mum—don't go… All right, hello—is anyone still here—"
Looking very satisfied, Mrs Weasley came back downstairs to find Sean studying the self-knitting needles and the dishes washing themselves in the sink.
"These are just little household spells…" Mrs Weasley said, a bit embarrassed.
"I think they're brilliant," Sean said, eyes glued to the magic.
He knew he couldn't do anything like this yet—this level of control over magic took years. That fine-grained control was exactly what he lacked.
"May I learn them, Mrs Weasley?" Sean asked. This was one of the reasons he'd come.
Fred and George had told him more than once that this kind of control had to be practised, and that their mother was a master of such work.
"What's there to learn… well, of course you can, dear," Mrs Weasley replied, cheeks colouring slightly.
"…Mum, have you seen my socks?"
A familiar voice floated down from the stairs. Ron came down, and the moment he saw Sean his eyes went round.
"Sean—!"
"I knew you had to know him," Mrs Weasley said. "Come down and greet our guest, Ron."
"Know him? That's putting it mildly…" Ron muttered under his breath.
"Hmm?" Mrs Weasley's brows drew together.
"I mean…" Ron shrank his neck a little. What was he supposed to say?
That Sean was the head of their Round Table? That he'd led them in guarding the Forbidden Forest, and then gone alone into the final chamber to stop the Dark Lord's plot?
Mum would never believe it.
"I mean… Sean is top of our year. Full marks in every subject. He's also Ravenclaw's Seeker and led them to win the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup."
Ron could hardly believe how easily the words came once he started.
"Oh! Oh! Goodness—what a wonderful boy!"
Mrs Weasley looked at Sean's small figure as though he were glowing.
"And you, Ron?" she added, switching targets without warning.
"I'm… only eighth," Ron mumbled.
"Merlin's beard! That's marvellous! Children, come here!"
Then she swept both Sean and Ron into a tight hug.
"We have to celebrate properly!" she said.
Night fell quickly. Sean stayed at Mrs Weasley's side as she patiently guided him through the use of household magic step by step.
In the end, it really was a kind of Transfiguration—making objects move on their own.
But it was far more complex: every instruction given to an object had to be incredibly detailed and precise.
All evening long, Sean heard the panel in his mind chiming:
[You have practised an Advanced Transfiguration at Journeyman level; Proficiency +30]
[You have practised an Advanced Transfiguration at Journeyman level; Proficiency +30]
…
What he hadn't expected was that this counted as Advanced Transfiguration too.
It belonged to the "object to magic" branch of Advanced Transfiguration.
Before dinner, Sean was shown to his room—a surprisingly large one.
In a house this cramped, that was remarkable.
His luggage had already been deposited by an enthusiastic Mrs Weasley. When Sean stepped inside, he was greeted by a fresh, bright blue-and-bronze colour scheme.
The worn walls were stacked high with books. A wide window stood open, directly beside the bed.
It wasn't hard to imagine how brilliantly the sunlight would pour in during the day.
There was a private desk and even a small protected area with wards.
Mrs Weasley had clearly been preparing this for some time; everything he might need was already in place.
Sean would be studying refined control here—and unlocking his Expert alchemy title.
He opened his panel:
[Advance: Six Expert-tier mid-level alchemical creations and twelve Journeyman-tier alchemical creations required to unlock the Alchemy (Expert) title]
[Mid-Level: Cleaning Broom – Journeyman (1210/3000)]
[Mid-Level: Leisure Broom – Expert (120/9000)]
[Mid-Level: Bizarre Wizard Chess – Expert (120/9000)]
…
All that remained was the Cleaning Broom, this last mid-level creation. Expert alchemy was waiting right in front of him.
Knock knock knock—
Someone rapped on the door.
"Great Green—!" Fred called.
"Trip to Diagon Alley—" George added.
"We need to restock for the shop," they said together.
Sean opened the door to find them bursting with energy.
"We've been waiting for this day far too long! Time is short!" Fred declared, sweeping an arm out dramatically.
"There's so much to do—and can you believe it? We only have a week!" George said, practically dragging him along.
"With enough stock, we'll be the best joke shop in all of Britain!"