Chapter 41: A New Title in Charms
"As for Slytherin," Sean continued, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet room, "rumour has it he came from the fenlands of eastern Ireland, though that's never been definitively proven. Now, if you think carefully, you can deduce Lady Ravenclaw's origins."
He paused, letting them consider.
"England… Wales… Ireland…" Hermione murmured, her eyes widening with realization as Justin frowned in concentration. "Scotland! The four founders of Hogwarts represent the four nations of the British Isles: Scotland, Wales, England, and Ireland!"
"Exactly," Sean confirmed. "Remember the Sorting Hat's song? 'Fair Ravenclaw, from glen…' A glen," he added, quoting the definition he'd looked up, "is a Scottish term for a deep valley in the Highlands."
"Sean, you're like a walking storybook!" Justin exclaimed. Hermione nodded in agreement, her chin held high.
Sean just gave a slight nod and walked towards the back of the room, wand in hand, where a pile of dusty, brittle books lay scattered on the floor.
"S—cour—g—ify—"
He drew a smooth 'S' shape with his wand, and the remaining layers of grime vanished from the ancient books.
[You have practiced the Scouring Charm once to the Novice standard. Proficiency +3]
[Novice-level Scouring Charm: Unlocked]
[New Title available in the field of Charms. Please view.]
He didn't check immediately. Instead, he carefully gathered the cleaned books and returned them to the leaning bookshelf. He then surveyed the room. The cobweb-covered desks and chairs were now spotless, arranged neatly by Justin and Hermione. The bookshelf, though still crooked, was full once more, its contents thoroughly cleaned by Sean. Even the strange contraptions in the corner had been dusted and organized.
The room almost looked like a functional classroom again, rather than a forgotten relic. Satisfied, Sean finally opened his Panel.
[Title: Charms Novice]
[Effect: Slightly increases your affinity for Charms. Significantly improves your raw talent in Charms.]
Significantly? Sean read the next line with anticipation.
[Wizard: Sean Green]
[Charms Talent: Blue (Rare)]
Boosted by Title: Charms Novice. Original Talent Grade was White.
I… I suppose I could almost be considered halfway talented in Charms now?
The effect of the talent upgrade was immediate and profound. The difference between 'White' and 'Blue' was like the difference between a garden snake and a Basilisk. He had long wanted to learn the four basic defensive spells mentioned in The Dark Forces, but his progress had been minimal. They weren't in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, and the descriptions in the Defence guide were too vague without a teacher's guidance. Relying on Professor Quirrell was about as likely to yield results as expecting Snape to throw open the dungeon doors for him.
So, Sean had tried to teach himself.
Now, guided by a newfound, sharp intuition, he unlocked both the Red Sparks Charm (Periculum) and the Green Sparks Charm (Verdimillious) in a matter of minutes.
Ten tries each. Only ten.
It made him wonder if his original 'White' talent had been less a lack of aptitude and more a genuine disability in the magical world.
As for the spells themselves – Red Sparks and Green Sparks – they might seem basic, but they had practical applications. Firstly, they served as emergency signals, used, he recalled, during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. Secondly, they functioned as low-level offensive spells in duels. Ron had once scoffed that after only a few lessons, Harry and Malfoy could probably do no more than shoot sparks at each other. These were the sparks he meant.
As Sean left the hidden room later that evening, he could hear the faint yowling of Mrs. Norris echoing down the corridor, along with…
"Sir Cadogan, a bet's a bet! You owe me a bottle of the good stuff from the Friars' Feast portrait!"
A woman's voice indeed came from a nearby painting. Sean looked up to see the portrait of a plump witch in a white gown, grinning triumphantly at her neighbour – a short, stout knight whose ridiculously long sword kept getting tangled in his legs, which were covered in grass stains.
The knight sighed dramatically. "Merlin's beard! My dear Green, why must you forsake Quidditch for the library? Returning so late! See? Now I've lost another bottle from my winnings!"
Sean immediately understood. Sir Cadogan and Lady Violet had made another bet, likely on him. It was a common occurrence. Condemned to an eternity of hanging on a wall, the portraits naturally sought amusement from their surroundings, often by wagering on the students' daily lives – predicting who would reach their destination first via the moving staircases was a popular one (with neutral portraits acting as referees, of course).
Sean ignored Sir Cadogan. Engaging with the knight would only result in being followed all the way back to the common room by an incessant stream of bombastic chatter. He already regretted revealing his name; the knight had somehow managed to spin it into half a dozen terrible jokes.
"Why did Sean Green fail art class? Because he'd only ever Seen Green! Hahahaha!"
Sean Green did not find it amusing. After the last incident, he had discreetly relocated the portrait of the Drunken Friars to a more secluded corridor.
The night passed quickly, and Hogwarts prepared for a new week. Monday mornings were usually the only time Sean felt any significant emotional turmoil, and this Monday was likely the most nerve-wracking yet for all the Ravenclaw first-years. It was time for their second Potions class.
Sean had spent Sunday evening reviewing Borage's modified ritual three times and poring over his notes on the Boil-Cure Potion. He had even deliberately saved his Potions essay for last, ensuring the theory was fresh in his mind.
A heavy silence filled the dungeon classroom.
BANG!
The door flew open, and Professor Snape swept in, his black robes billowing, making his sallow face look even more menacing. Though he moved with a certain predatory grace, his presence radiated an oppressive aura that silenced the already quiet students.
"—The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff alliance, hmph—" his voice was a low, dangerous drawl. "A week has passed. If I observe that certain individuals continue to exhibit a persistent—and astonishing—deficit in both intellect and practical ability—"
He hadn't even finished his sentence, but several students were already trembling, their faces pale with dread.