Chapter 54: Aguamenti
The incident with the three-headed dog was a brief, albeit terrifying, detour in Sean's meticulously planned Hogwarts routine. Life quickly settled back into its rhythm, aided significantly by the notebooks Professor Flitwick had provided. While the explanations within were often still frustratingly vague, they contained invaluable clues nestled within the ambiguity.
Regarding the wand movement for the Water-Making Spell (Aguamenti), it is typically described as an 'upward diagonal arc.' Miranda Goshawk, in 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1,' likens it to the 'arc of water from a fountain statue' – a visual and intuitive comparison suitable for beginners establishing a mental image.
However, in her later work, 'Book of Spells,' this description was revised to 'the beautiful arc produced when a natural stream strikes a stone.' Regrettably, I have never heard Madam Goshawk publicly state her specific reasons for this amendment.
Yet, in terms of practical casting effectiveness, the latter gesture does indeed result in smoother magical channeling and a more stable effect – a point repeatedly validated in my own teaching practice.
Therefore, we might infer that this change was not arbitrary, but based on a deeper understanding of the charm.
"I think I understand—"
The usual Saturday languor that permeated Hogwarts hadn't yet reached the owl-guarded classroom. Early in the morning, two young heads were already bent close together, poring over books spread across the table. In the corner, steam curled lazily from three mugs of honey-lemon tea, partially obscuring their focused faces.
"Shall we try it?" Sean asked, having stared intently at the description for several long moments.
"Of course— Agua—men—ti!" Hermione responded confidently, her wand tracing a fluid, natural arc through the air. A thin stream of water trickled from the tip, landing with a soft splat on the stone floor.
"It needs to be higher… more energetic… Oh, what am I even saying…" Hermione struggled to articulate the feeling, realizing her own words were as vague as the textbook's. With a small sigh, she looked to Sean, hoping he understood.
"A wider arc, and a faster wand movement, right?" Sean confirmed, first cleaning the puddle with a Scouring Charm, then describing the subtle adjustments. Hermione's eyes lit up with understanding.
"Agua—men—ti!"
[You have practiced the Water-Making Spell once to the Apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
[Water-Making Spell: Locked (27/30)]
[Summoning Charm: Locked (1/30)]
[Levitation Charm: Novice (200/900)]
In just half a day, Sean had nearly unlocked the Water-Making Spell. Hermione's help had been invaluable; Miss Granger truly possessed a natural gift for Charms. It was easy to see how she would eventually become Professor Flitwick's star pupil.
Sean cleaned the floor again, then, despite his growing fatigue, pushed himself through a few more practice casts.
[You have practiced the Water-Making Spell once to the Apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
[You have practiced the Water-Making Spell once to the Novice standard. Proficiency +3]
[Water-Making Spell: Unlocked]
It hadn't been overly difficult, but the drain on his magical energy was significant. Sean felt as though he could barely lift his wand. He exchanged a look with the equally exhausted Hermione, their shared exhaustion momentarily overshadowed by the thrill of mastering a new spell.
"And then there's the Summoning Charm," Hermione recited from Flitwick's notes. "It mentions that when summoning an unknown object, the wizard doesn't need to know its specific name, but must focus on a particular attribute. Also… while it's not entirely impossible to summon living creatures, most cannot be summoned, and those that can are rarely worth the effort…"
She rattled off the complex sentences. Anyone else might have been completely lost, but Sean, having stayed up late the previous night devouring the entire notebook alongside her, understood perfectly.
After the incident with the three-headed dog, Hermione's dedication to learning Charms had intensified, perhaps driven by a newfound sense of urgency. She frequently sought Sean out to discuss magical theory.
As for Justin, something seemed to have shifted between him and Harry. After learning that Hermione had insisted on accompanying them, his anger had significantly cooled. While Hermione was still pointedly ignoring Harry and Ron, Justin's opinion of Harry had changed.
"Sean," he'd confided later, "I think my first impression of Harry was completely wrong. When I talked to him, he even apologized for getting Hermione into trouble. He seemed genuinely remorseful… We chatted for a bit. I have to admit, if I were dealing with a bully like that Slytherin Malfoy, I'm not sure I could resist breaking the rules either." Justin had looked thoughtful. "If this whole thing taught me anything, it's not to judge before you know the full story. Mother was right again."
Sean had nodded slowly, then excused himself. He was genuinely starting to wonder if Mrs. Finch-Fletchley glowed in the dark.
Left alone with Hermione, Justin had miraculously produced a small, folded note: Sorry, Granger. It was unexpected, yet somehow completely in character for Harry. Even as a first-year, Harry displayed a quiet maturity and resilience. Growing up under the Dursleys' neglect and abuse hadn't twisted him or made him cowardly. Instead, it had fostered a subtle kindness and a fierce desire for justice.
Sean, perhaps more than any other first-year, understood that feeling. They were both orphans, after all. If Sean's own strong sense of self had kept him from straying down the wrong path, Harry's defining trait was pure grit. He wasn't a bad kid, nor was he entirely reckless. He was, Sean thought, a war orphan deserving of a little leeway. The brief mentions of his childhood in the books hinted at a long, bleak period of darkness.
Therefore, Sean couldn't bring himself to criticize Dumbledore for bringing Quirrell to Hogwarts or setting up dangerous traps on the third floor. If Harry didn't grow stronger, if Dumbledore couldn't use this opportunity to expose Quirrellmort, who would defeat Voldemort? The only sensible precaution was to stay as far away from Professor Quirrell as possible.
Sean let out a breath, the warm afternoon air ruffling his hair. The rain had stopped, leaving the grounds washed clean and glistening. Mist clung to the damp earth, carrying the fresh scent of soil and wet stone. He could even smell the faint, musty odor of the oak stands in the Quidditch pitch, soaked by the night dew.
He found Madam Hooch packing away the school brooms near the pitch entrance and hurried over. "Madam Hooch? May I practice flying for a bit? I won't be long."
"Oh? Who do you think I was waiting for, Mr. Green?" she replied, her hawk-like eyes glinting. She tossed him a relatively intact Cleansweep Seven. "Use this one."
"Thank you, Madam."
Sean swung his leg over the broom. Whether it was psychological or not, he felt the lingering fatigue from his Charms practice begin to dissipate the moment his hands gripped the smooth wood.