The incident with the three-headed dog was like a brief interlude, not causing any major ripples in Sean's life at Hogwarts.
Professor Flitwick's notes, on the other hand, turned out to be incredibly helpful. Although their explanations were sometimes vague, traces of real knowledge were always hidden within the ambiguity.
[Regarding the wand movement of the Water-Making Spell, it is commonly described as an "upward-slanting arc." Miranda Goshawk, in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One, compared it to "the curve of water from a fountain statue," a vivid image well-suited to help beginners visualize it. However, in her later work The Book of Spells, this description was revised to "the graceful arc of natural water as it strikes stone." Unfortunately, I have never heard Madam Goshawk publicly explain the specific reason for this change. In practice, though, the latter gesture has consistently resulted in smoother magical flow and more stable effects—a fact I have repeatedly verified in my teaching. Thus, we may reasonably conclude that this revision was not arbitrary but stemmed from a deeper understanding of the spell.]
"I think I get it—"
The languid atmosphere of a Hogwarts Saturday hadn't reached the classroom near the Owlery.
Early in the morning, two small heads could be seen huddled together over a desk cluttered with open books, completely absorbed in their research.
In the corner of the table, three cups of steaming honey lemon tea released curling tendrils of vapor, blurring their focused faces.
"Want to give it a try?" Sean asked the little witch beside him after staring at the description for a long time.
"Of course—Agua—men—ti!"
Hermione confidently waved her wand, tracing a natural arc through the air.
A thin stream of water spurted from the tip of her wand and finally splashed onto the floor with a plop.
"It needs to be higher, livelier… oh, what am I even saying…"
She tried to describe her impression but found her words just as vague as the book's explanations. She sighed softly and turned to Sean, hoping he would understand.
"A bigger arc, and a faster swing, right?"
Sean cleaned the floor with a Scouring Charm, then carefully described his thoughts. Hermione's eyes grew brighter as he spoke.
"Agua—men—ti!"
[You have practiced the Water-Making Spell with Apprentice Level Skill. Proficiency +1]
[Water-Making Spell: Locked (27/30)]
[Summoning Charm: Locked (1/30)]
[Levitation Charm: Beginner (200/900)]
In just half a day, Sean had nearly unlocked the Water-Making Spell.
Hermione's help was a big factor. Miss Granger truly had a gift for Charms—no wonder she would later become one of Flitwick's most trusted students.
Sean used a Scouring Charm to dry the floor again, and before exhaustion fully set in, he pushed himself to practice a few more times.
[You have practiced the Water-Making Spell with Apprentice Level Skill. Proficiency +1]
[You have practiced the Water-Making Spell with Beginner Level Skill. Proficiency +3]
[Water-Making Spell Unlocked]
It wasn't particularly difficult.
But the exhaustion was real—Sean felt like he could barely hold his wand up anymore.
He exchanged a glance with the equally tired Hermione, both of them brimming with the excitement of mastering a new spell.
"There's also the Summoning Charm. Flitwick's notes say that when summoning an unknown object, you don't need to know the item's exact name, only some of its attributes. Although it's not completely impossible to summon living creatures, most can't be summoned at all, and those that can usually aren't worth summoning…"
Hermione rattled off a series of tongue-twisting explanations. Anyone else would have been utterly lost.
But Sean, who had stayed up late reading the entire set of notes with her, understood every word.
After the three-headed dog incident, Hermione had become even more obsessed with learning spells. Perhaps driven by a newfound sense of danger, she frequently discussed magic with Sean.
As for Justin, something had happened between him and Harry. When he found out Hermione had insisted on following them, his attitude softened considerably.
Hermione was currently ignoring Harry and Ron, but Justin's opinion of Harry had shifted:
"Sean, Harry's so different from what I imagined. When we talked, he even apologized for what happened to Hermione. His expression—there was no way he was faking it. We talked for a while, and honestly, if I'd been in his shoes, facing the kind of trouble that Slytherin boy caused, I don't think I'd have been able to stop myself from breaking the rules either." Justin spoke thoughtfully.
"If this incident taught me anything, it's not to pass judgment before knowing the full story. Mother was right."
Sean nodded slowly and left the classroom.
He was genuinely curious about Madam Finch-Fletchley now. She must radiate light, he thought.
Justin, meanwhile, miraculously managed to hand Hermione a note:
[Sorry, Granger]
It was unexpected yet completely understandable.
Even as a first-year, Harry had already shown unusual maturity and resilience.
He'd grown up under the Dursleys' neglect and bullying, but he hadn't turned bitter or cowardly. Instead, he'd developed a quiet kindness and a fierce sense of justice.
Sean probably understood that feeling better than anyone else in their year—after all, they were both orphans.
If Sean's personality was shaped by a strong sense of self that kept him on the right path, then Harry's was defined by sheer resilience.
Harry was never a bad kid, nor a reckless fool. If Sean had to describe him, he'd say Harry was a war orphan who deserved a bit of favoritism.
Those childhood years, glossed over so briefly in the original story, were dark and damp enough to linger for a lifetime.
That's why Sean didn't think Dumbledore's inviting Quirrell to Hogwarts and setting dangerous traps on the fourth floor was something to complain about.
If Harry didn't grow, and if Dumbledore didn't use this as a way to expose the double agent, then who would face Voldemort?
The only thing Sean needed to worry about was staying as far away from Professor Quirrell as possible.
He exhaled softly at the thought.
The warm breeze lifted his hair, making his emerald eyes shine even brighter. The grass, damp from recent rain, filled the air with a fresh, earthy scent. From the stands came the faint musty smell of oak benches soaked in night dew.
Sean found Madam Hooch gathering brooms and quickly approached her.
"Madam Hooch, may I practice broom flying here? It won't take long."
He asked nervously.
"Oh? And who do you think I've been waiting for, Mr. Green? Take this broom!"
Her hawk-like eyes swept over him as she tossed him a decent-looking Nimbus Sevenstar.
"Thank you."
Sean swung onto the broom in one smooth motion. Maybe it was just in his head, but he could already feel the fatigue from spell practice fading.