Letters poured in for Neville from the witches and wizards in his family, each offering a different recommendation about what electives he should choose.
Neville was completely at a loss and terribly nervous.
He sat there staring at the course list, tongue sticking out, and quietly asked Justin whether he thought Arithmancy sounded harder to learn than Ancient Runes.
At the Gryffindor table on the other side—
Dean Thomas and a few others, like Sean, were Muggle-born.
In the end, they simply shut their eyes and tapped their wands randomly on the form—whichever subject the wand landed on, that was the one they chose.
Sean turned his head and saw that after carefully reading Justin's notes, Hermione had signed up for every subject.
"Hermione… are you sure?" Harry clicked his tongue.
"Merlin…" Ron's eyes went wide.
Hermione ignored them. She put her course form away, then looked at Sean with a strange expression—
as if she were sharing a secret only the two of them knew.
Sean didn't notice. He was frowning at the timetable.
Of course he didn't want to miss a single class.
Ancient Runes was the foundation of alchemy; Care of Magical Creatures couldn't possibly be skipped now that the new teaching assistant was in place; Divination subjects would help him understand deep, still-locked prophecy magic—and later they'd even be taught by a centaur; as for Muggle Studies, that too would help his alchemical research…
But the schedule made it impossible to take them all.
Arithmancy conflicted with Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination overlapped with Muggle Studies for more than half of its sessions.
It only made Sean feel even more pressed for time.
"Sean, are you still thinking? Is there something you don't like about these classes?" Hermione asked softly from beside him, her suspicious gaze practically glued to Divination.
Before Sean could answer, another voice sounded in his ear—Percy Weasley.
"It depends on where you want to go in the future, Mr. Green, Miss Granger," he said. "You have to plan ahead, so I recommend Divination. People say choosing Muggle Studies is foolish, but personally I think wizards should have a thorough understanding of non-magical society—especially if they want work closely tied to Muggles.
"Look at my father: he has to deal with Muggle matters every moment of the day.
"My brother Charlie has always liked being outdoors, so he chose Care of Magical Creatures. Play to your strengths, everyone."
Like a prefect dutifully looking after younger students, he said his piece and moved on.
"What do you think, Sean?" Hermione asked. She didn't believe everything Percy said made sense.
She only trusted the two young wizards beside her.
"I think…" Sean's brows smoothed as a powerful magical item came to mind.
"You think choosing everything is right too?" Hermione blurted, eager.
"Mm." Sean nodded.
If he had a Time-Turner, he'd have far more room to choose.
"Good. That's good," Hermione said, hugging her books and leaving.
…
Time-Turner.
The words echoed in Sean's mind a few times.
Then… he wrote them down in his notebook.
His notebook was packed with plans—old plans and new ones.
They differed in all sorts of ways, but one thing was certain: everything written in that notebook would be completed in the end.
[Apply for a Time-Turner].
A new line appeared.
Once the course-selection uproar died down, the students immediately started chattering about Hogsmeade Weekend.
One of the rare holidays when they could leave Hogwarts.
Hogsmeade had so many novel, fun shops—there was even a newly opened Green Bookshop and a joke shop—and the second-years and up discussed it endlessly.
The third-years and up debated what to buy; the second-years debated what they would do next year.
After all, when the next school year began, they'd be part of the crowd allowed onto that sacred little road.
Sean let those voices wash past—until another one caught him.
"I don't often see you looking so thoughtful," said Prefect Penette. She came after Percy, gave a quick rundown of electives to a cluster of younger Ravenclaws, then walked straight over.
"Prefect Penette," Sean greeted.
"I imagine you're like I was—you don't want to miss a single class…" Penette said in a coaxing tone. "Roger's been begging me for ages. Ravenclaw needs you; the Seeker position has been kept open for you…
"But today I came to tell you something special. If you agree to play for Ravenclaw, I'll do everything I can to get it for you…"
Sean looked at her with those green eyes, and the beautiful prefect continued:
"A powerful magical object. It looks like a small, gleaming golden hourglass on a very long, delicate gold chain.
"Each turn sends you back one hour.
"To get one, you have to beg a professor to write to the Ministry over and over, certifying the owner as a model student—and swearing they'll never use it for anything but studying…
"It's a secret passed down among generations of model students. Do you know what it's called?"
Penette smiled and blinked.
"A Time-Turner," Sean answered.
"Ah—you know…" Penette sighed, faintly disappointed. "Then Roger's going to be disappointed too.
"I won't ask whether you already have one. We all know—we've sworn."
She left, and at the very end she cast Sean a meaningful glance, as if the device were already tucked in his bag.
But Sean was disappointed too—his bag held only the Wizard's Book, along with the Pukwudgie butler, the catopard, and a vast boundless space.
He walked the corridors on his way down to the dungeons for detention.
Yes—now that he'd been discharged, his detention began again.
From September 1 to September 1, with no holidays—seven full years in total.
Since Sean had started detention in second year, he still "owed" Professor Snape an extra year.
Professor McGonagall, who had once opposed it, had eventually agreed; Dumbledore, who'd approved it cheerfully at the start, now seemed a little regretful.
Sean kept thinking, and thinking, as he entered the dungeons.
Down in the dungeons—
Snape stood in the shadows, staring at a bubbling cauldron. When the wooden door creaked open, he lifted his head out of habit.
That fool—bewitched by Dumbledore's ideology—looked just as irritating as ever.
Sean's hands were behind his back, holding something like a necklace, and Snape's face darkened.
The most infuriating part about that brainless nuisance was that he didn't even have the ability to complain about how unfair life was—and that, of all things, was what made bitterness rise in Snape's throat.
~~~
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