Tonight, the starry sky above Ravenclaw Tower was exceptionally clear.
Sean sat on the small sofa by the window, a book in hand. Beside him, a small, animated fireplace hopped closer and burned quietly.
His thoughts began to drift, wandering back to the words Headmaster Dumbledore had spoken in the Great Hall.
It naturally occurred to Sean that the Headmaster seemed to be getting... friendlier and more approachable.
A gentle breeze turned the page in his hand, and Sean found himself thinking: This is already quite good.
Far away in the Headmaster's office, the portraits were also unusually chatty.
"Yes, Albus, choosing to trust... it's never an easy thing, especially when it comes to those who have made mistakes..." Headmistress Dilys Derwent said with a delighted smile.
Albus Dumbledore, uncharacteristically, didn't reply. He simply gazed out the window toward a distant place.
The dark treetops of the Forbidden Forest swayed like an ink-black sea, beneath a sky of faint, starlit indigo.
With a flick of his wand, he directed a quill to write a large "APPROVED" on the application for the Assistant Professor of Care of Magical Creatures position.
Someone had applied for a teaching post a long time ago.
That time, he had rejected it without hesitation.
Now, he couldn't be happier to agree.
"No man ever steps in the same river twice..."
Dumbledore's voice sounded like a sigh, yet also like a profound realization.
---
After the lively final day of the Christmas holidays, the young wizards soon had to force themselves back into study mode.
Amid the intense academic atmosphere of the Hope Clubhouse, the members quickly realized they were seeing less and less of Sean.
Even in the Great Hall, they would catch only a glimpse of his back as he hurried away.
The reason for Sean's erratic schedule was simple: after Professor Flitwick thanked Snape for the third time, Sean was basically stuck in detention in the dungeons, unable to escape.
Furthermore, his Wampus Cat cookies had reached their final stage, so he had to pour whatever little time remained into constructing the magical ritual.
For the past few days, the warm winter sun had constantly bathed Hogwarts in light.
Inside the castle, people's spirits were lifting.
One afternoon, while helping out in the greenhouses, Professor Sprout happily told them that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, which meant they were rapidly leaving childhood behind.
"Once their acne clears up, they'll be ready for repotting again," Professor Sprout explained, and Sean and the others listened intently to her patient instruction. "And then, it won't be long before we can cut them up and stew them. That is how you make the Mandrake Restorative Draught."
"We can use it to reverse conditions where someone has been Transfigured or cursed. Its powerful properties can return the drinker to their original state."
This was no simple potion. At least for Sean, whose talent for potions was merely average, brewing it was harder than fighting a Basilisk single-handedly.
Yet, the task of brewing it naturally fell to Sean.
Professor Snape announced coldly, "Impressive, 'Hero' Wallup—let's hope brewing this draught is simpler than defeating a Basilisk."
So, Sean studied Professor Sprout's handling techniques with utmost seriousness. He planned to construct a method to guide the will of the Mandrake Restorative Draught within three days. If he succeeded, his week of detention would effectively be finished early.
Regarding his detention, while it was officially for practicing potion-making, Sean spent the vast majority of the time learning the Dark Arts—and how to counter them.
Professor Lockhart's Dueling Club became Sean's practice ground for real combat.
Every weekend, "volunteer" upper-year Slytherins would try to last a few rounds against him.
Unfortunately, aside from the very first time, they rarely achieved that goal.
Defeating a certain Mr. Wallup became a fixed obsession for some of the older Slytherins.
After all, since everyone was restricted to using hexes, minor curses from the Dark Arts, and defensive spells, their inability to defeat him clearly pointed to a gap in skill.
Admitting that their skills were inferior to a second-year wizard was a hard pill to swallow.
Whenever the Slytherins ambitiously tried to defeat Sean, the sneer on Snape's face was hard to suppress.
Perhaps only he clearly understood that trying to beat his foolish student in the Dark Arts... well, they'd be better off hoping to crush him in Transfiguration.
Delusions, too, come in varying degrees of difficulty.
Through this constant cycle of study and combat, Sean's Sectumsempra curse reached the "Master" level.
He was only two "Master" level Dark curses away from becoming a true Master of the Dark Arts.
Though it wasn't exactly a flattering title, having a few more aces up his sleeve was always good.
And now, Sean was ready to perfect the final magical ritual for the Wampus Cat cookies.
---
January slipped unnoticed into February, but the bone-chilling cold remained unchanged.
Shortly into February, Hufflepuff played a match against Slytherin.
Slytherin won, but it was a narrow victory.
According to Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, this was good news for Gryffindor. If they also beat Hufflepuff, they could take second place.
Consequently, Wood increased team practice to five times a week. This meant Harry only had two evenings a week to do all his homework.
He had to admit, he wasn't as singularly focused on Quidditch as he used to be.
He was beginning to cherish his time studying magic more and more, sometimes even wanting to skip Quidditch practice.
But just when he had these thoughts, Sean would be too busy to be seen, leaving Harry unable to gauge his progress in spellwork.
His only option was to challenge Sean at the Dueling Club, where he would promptly be knocked down by a single, effortless move.
Yet, despite how busy Sean was, he never seemed as high-strung as Hermione.
Hermione seemed to finally be buckling under the weight of the heavy workload she had voluntarily taken on.
Every evening, you could be sure to find Hermione sitting in Sean's clubhouse, the tables in front of her completely covered in textbooks: Ancient Runes Made Easy, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and stack after stack of densely written notes.
She barely spoke to anyone and snapped at people when interrupted. Worse still, she was often harsh with herself.
"Do you know why Sean had to face the Basilisk alone? Because you couldn't help!" she would even mutter to herself.
Compared to the changes in the others at the Hope Clubhouse, Sean remained in his familiar state of busyness.
He had mastered the Mandrake Restorative Draught—though after taking a sip, Professor Snape commented, "Even a fool wouldn't drink this."
And then, he finally completed the Wampus Cat cookies.