"I understand, Professor." Sean cleaned his cauldron thoroughly, then paused for a moment before leaving. His emerald eyes were filled with sincerity. "Thank you for the ingredients and the guidance."
As he left the dungeon, Snape's face flickered in the candlelight, shifting between shadow and flame.
He wouldn't forget those techniques. He didn't know where the boy had learned them, but they undoubtedly reminded him of those rare, bright days long past.
He had never seen a student who loved potions so purely.
Sean didn't care about sarcasm or personal grudges—he only cared about the potions themselves.
He approached the subject with the same original, untainted passion Snape once held, even using methods Snape knew by heart—Techniques he had once explored and discussed with another, during one of the few bright periods of his life.
That same focus, that familiar skill, made something in his chest ache—He hated seeing his own reflection,
Especially when that reflection was tied to everything he had lost.
His gaze darkened.
Was it bitterness, anger… or that faint, uncontrollable hint of admiration?
Outside the windows, the rain poured down relentlessly, carrying emotions as long and fierce as the wind itself.
Sean walked quickly, hugging his book to his chest.
If he ignored Professor Snape's poisonous tongue, perhaps Snape really could be called a competent teacher.
At the very least, he truly loved potions, and his skills were undeniable.
Sean's fatigue from the potion ritual was fading. By tomorrow at the latest, he could finally test how much his improved brewing ritual would enhance the potion's quality.
Most importantly, Snape seemed to have read Borage's notes as well.
Maybe he could even offer some guidance for the modifications?
What Sean didn't know was—Snape wasn't the only one who had read those improvements…
Curfew was fast approaching.
Sean heard two cheerful Gryffindors humming "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love":
"Oh, come stir my cauldron, And if you do it right, I'll brew up some hot, strong love, To keep you warm tonight…"
It was a jazzy number sung by Celestina Warbeck, wildly popular in the wizarding world.
"You're done for!"
Sean heard another strange cry.
Two young wizards were playing Gobstones, one of their favorite pastimes.
The loser's punishment in Gobstones was—Several stones spraying foul-smelling liquid directly at the unfortunate player's face.
Yes… it was hard to imagine where the inventor of this game found their inspiration.
As the owls took off again, a pair of sharp eyes appeared in the distance almost simultaneously.
Professor Minerva McGonagall's usually stern face carried a complex expression, especially as she watched Sean, exhausted, walk past a noisy group of students taking their last chance to play on a Saturday night.
Only now did she realize that this quiet effort of his had been going on for far longer than she'd ever noticed.
The Scottish Highlands wind swept across the surface of the Black Lake, striking Hogwarts' ancient castle walls once more, transforming into a deep, resonant hum.
Amid this rumbling, Hogwarts Castle awoke again.
"You little wizard! Wretched little wizard! Answering early again!"
Mr. Owl screeched noisily, but Sean entered the classroom unfazed.
Of the trio, Hermione was, unusually, the last to arrive.
Sean slept well. Justin also slept well.
The two of them usually arrived at the practice room around six o'clock, which Hermione loudly declared unfair!
What kind of young wizards stayed perfectly energetic after only seven hours of sleep?!
"Good morning, Sean."
Justin held a cup of coconut milk pudding and was casting a special food spell on it.
Sean noticed a book lying open beside him, with a pink cover and a large turkey in the center.
It was "Conjure a Feast!" — a staple in any wizarding kitchen.
"Sean, could you help me test the new flavor I improved?"
Justin handed over the coconut milk pudding.
What he didn't mention was that the previous, unpalatable version had already been devoured by the greedy Hufflepuffs yesterday.
…
[You practiced the Water-Making Spell with Apprentice Level Skill. Proficiency +1]
[You practiced the Water-Making Spell with Beginner Level Skill. Proficiency +3]
[You practiced the Water-Making Spell with Beginner Level Skill. Proficiency +3]
…
Sean pushed himself in his daily practice until he could barely even lift his wand.
After recording the finer details of the Water-Making Spell, he quietly opened his progress panel:
[Water-Making Spell: Apprentice Level (110/300)]
[Summoning Spell: Locked (1/30)]
[Levitation Spell: Beginner Level (200/900)]
At this pace, he would reach beginner level by tomorrow. Truly fast progress.
Just as he was about to head to the Quidditch pitch, Justin suddenly approached:
"Oh, Sean, do you know? My mother once told me that there are many ways to deal with the world,
but only creation endures."
He spoke with a sort of belated realization:
"Are you ready to face this change with me?"
Before Sean could respond, Justin pulled him into a courtyard packed with young wizards.
It was hard to imagine: Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, all gathered peacefully together, whispering among themselves. Upon seeing Justin arrive, their whispers even turned into a cheerful clamor.
"Sean, I knew it was you!" Michael was especially excited, raising his chin as he addressed Simo and the others: "Payment due, ten Knuts."
"Alright, alright…"
"Fair's fair…"
Sean saw Simo, Ernie, and the others grumbling as they handed something over to Michael Tenner. He winked at Sean and mouthed:
"You'll get half later."
Sean roughly understood what was going on.
"History of Magic notes… really that popular?"
He asked Justin quietly.
"Oh, my dear Sean, I think you misunderstand. What you've done is something no one in the wizarding world has ever done, an entirely untapped market!"
Justin's pale gray eyes sharpened slightly, unusually focused:
"When third-year students came to me, I realized, Sean, this was a huge opportunity. Think about it: Professor Binns' vague lectures, the endless homework, the struggles of self-study—who wouldn't want a clear, concise set of notes? I haven't shared a single set, only skimmed some inconsequential parts about the last assignment." He suddenly leaned toward Sean's ear: "When everyone faced yet another long assignment caused by Professor Binns' confusion, they came to me, hoping I'd provide that part of the notes…
and they willingly paid for them."
…
The popularity of the History of Magic notes did surprise Sean. Nearly every young wizard bought a copy.
Justin's handling of it kept that surprise going:
"It's like a serialized story. We only sell a small portion at a time. Given the vastness of magical history, even a small portion fills half a book… And remember your History of Magic essay method? Its reputation spread widely thanks to a wizard named Michael. We have plenty of time to let these ideas take hold. The key is to maintain a true, scientific core. Oh, Sean, don't forget, Hogwarts isn't the only school where summarizing matters… And the wizarding world isn't limited to Hogwarts alone…"
Justin's eyes sparkled as he spoke, and Sean followed him silently.
They arrived quietly at the Quidditch pitch.
Sean thought that at his current rate of progress, he could soon fly back to the Ravenclaw Tower.
If not all the way, at least halfway.