"Looks like our dear Professor Quirrell is going to need at least ten minutes?" Dumbledore said with a genial smile.
Sean didn't answer. He only repeated in a low voice:
"Please, Professor. No matter what happens, do your best to destroy the Resurrection Stone."
"As you wish…" Quirrell stammered, trembling as he watched a ring appear out of thin air behind him—while the Pukwudgie butler kept his bow raised, chin lifted, and gave him a curt nod.
It was obvious: Will had silently fetched the ring from inside the Wizard's Book.
"B-but…" Quirrell paused for a second, glanced at the two beside him, and still couldn't stop himself from speaking.
Pukwudgies possessed mysterious magic; the fairy folk were indeed stronger than a newly enrolled student.
But against a truly powerful wizard, a fairy was clearly not enough.
And right now, standing between them was that newly enrolled student wizard—if anything, even less imposing than the Pukwudgie.
"M-maybe I could—"
Quirrell tried to say, haltingly.
Sean shook his head.
If Quirrell took over, this wouldn't be a "practical combat lesson" anymore.
And so Fiendfyre surged upward—and Dumbledore's eyes narrowed even further.
Sean hooked a finger, bent slightly at the waist, and leveled his wand—
[Name: Sean · Green]
[Transfiguration Talent: Purple (Transfiguration Master title applied). Note: most wizards are Green]
[Transfiguration Categories:
Magical Transfiguration: Skilled (170/3000)
Material Transfiguration: Skilled (150/3000)
Soul Transfiguration: Skilled (1500/3000)]
[Evaluation: A wizard who has reached Mastery in Transfiguration—possessing qualified Transfiguration-Master combat power; truly among the elite of the wizarding world]
Yes. Once every branch of Transfiguration had reached "Skilled," Sean's combat evaluation shifted again.
But it still wasn't enough…
[Name: Sean · Green]
[Dark Magic Talent: Gold (Dark Magic Saint title applied). Note: most wizards are Green]
[Impediment Jinx: Master (1700/?)
Petrification Jinx: Master (1100/?)
Sectumsempra: Master (2300/?)
Blasting Curse: Master (100/?)]
…
[Evaluation: A historically rare genius in Dark Magic. Dark Magic embraces you. You are a born King of Dark Magic]
Two more master-level curses, and he'd step into Dark Magic Mastery. And in real combat, Dark Magic and Transfiguration were unquestionably the most practical branches.
Night. A narrow path. Tall, dense hedges on both sides.
The dirt road twisted and dipped, littered with stones—steeply slanting down like every path here, into a small patch of pitch-black woods.
Sean's pupils narrowed into vertical slits. His green eyes carried a faint, rising exhilaration.
Dumbledore seemed to enjoy the sight. He lifted his wand close to his waist and bent slightly—
both of them completing the traditional pre-duel etiquette.
"Dragon, spread your wings," Sean murmured.
A fire-dragon dropped into the dim woods in an instant, setting dead branches ablaze.
It opened a flaming maw and roared—making Dumbledore smile.
"A delightfully spirited exploration. Did you read that note of mine?" Dumbledore asked.
He raised a hand—and somehow, the dragon vanished without a trace.
"Yes, Headmaster. Just some insignificant experimentation," Sean replied.
He realized it had been a Transfiguration counter-curse—the Reversal Spell. Even layering multiple transformations onto the dragon hadn't stopped Dumbledore.
The gap between him and the Headmaster was still enormous.
Hard. Still hard… Facing Dumbledore, even under the pretense of a "lesson," Sean would only get one real chance.
"Please be careful, Headmaster," Sean said abruptly.
All his Transfiguration had always been built on centuries of accumulated wizarding knowledge—stable, structured, proven.
But stable didn't mean strong.
"Stone soldier, advance!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
He didn't hesitate. His spell-combination technique let him cast two spells in the same heartbeat.
But that still wasn't all—he also threw a small sphere.
A portable Anti-Apparition field device, engraved with the Anti-Disapparition charm, capable of blocking Apparition for a short time.
Sean knew that the stronger the wizard, the shorter the field would last.
So he only gave himself one minute.
"An interesting little device. And solid dueling technique," Dumbledore said softly.
With a casual flick, he conjured a shining silver shield in midair.
Sean didn't know the spell—but his magic couldn't break it. Instead, the shield rang with a deep, gong-like vibration—an eerie sound that made the spine crawl.
Dumbledore glanced at the stone soldier charging him, and at the pale-faced child with cold, slit pupils.
Be careful, he'd said…
The thought made Dumbledore's mood even lighter.
When the charging stone soldier was shattered with ease, Sean still held his wand calmly.
He looked motionless, but his robe began to billow as if stirred by an unseen tide.
Quirrell couldn't stop Dumbledore. Will would be eliminated in an instant.
In truth, Sean's plan had always been for him to shoulder this hardest part.
It was hard. His old "upperclassman," Tom, had never managed it—neither as Tom Riddle nor as Voldemort.
Even in the Department of Mysteries battle, Voldemort had been the first to flee.
But there was still an opening.
That opening was simple:
Sean didn't actually know how strong he was.
Or rather—he had never, not once, unleashed his magic at one hundred percent.
Wizarding magic followed a blunt rule. Magical Theory put it plainly:
[Once you master a spell, to truly unleash its maximum power, you still need sufficient mental strength.]
"Mental strength" included emotion and the level of a wizard's will.
Sean rarely showed emotion. He usually didn't let emotion drive his magic.
But now he needed it.
He thought of that gray photograph.
He thought of the warm candlelight in the Great Hall.
He thought of an old man—stumbling through a life battered by fate:
Motherless as a child, love lost in youth, living under the crushing guilt of having killed his own family, dragging himself through the days with regret.
And now—
Sean wanted to stop him.
"Briar-and-stone guardian!" Sean chanted.
The entire valley shook. The ground beneath the hedges split into horrific fissures.
A thunderous rumble rolled out, sending flocks of sparrows exploding into the air.
For the first time, Dumbledore looked genuinely surprised.
In front of him, a massive hand—woven from vines and stone—closed around him, sealing him off from the world.
~~~
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