Chapter 466: Exam Week
Sean felt Roger might have been onto something, though he doubted "mercenary"
was a term commonly used in the wizarding world.
"Quidditch always manages to make one feel much younger, don't you think?"
Dumbledore said with a smile, glancing inadvertently at Minerva, whose eyes were
shining with unshed tears.
"Perhaps you are right, Headmaster." Sean took the tilting trophy, which nearly
knocked him on the head.
"Oh, careful there," Dumbledore reached out, chuckling. Behind him, the other
professors were laughing uproariously. Feeling a bit embarrassed, Sean struggled
to keep the trophy upright as he walked away.
Dumbledore seemed delighted, laughing as he discussed Minerva's own past
Quidditch-playing days with her. "Minerva, I seem to recall you didn't find the
trophy quite so heavy back in your day."
"Albus, that was before you decided to enchant the trophy to weigh more,"
Professor McGonagall retorted, shooting him a sideways glance before watching
the young wizard—swaying slightly while surrounded by his peers—with suppressed
excitement.
Having finally won the Quidditch Cup, Ravenclaw's fervor lasted for at least a
week. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating. As June approached, the days
grew clear and cloudless, baking under a sweltering heat that made one wish to
do nothing more than wander onto the grounds with a pint of iced pumpkin juice,
plop down on the grass, and idle away the afternoon playing Gobstones or
watching the Giant Squid dreamily navigate the lake.
On just such a day, by the edge of the Black Lake, Roger was rubbing his hands
together in excitement.
"Green, are you saying..."
"Yes, it has that effect. It can bring forth some illusions of the people in
your heart, but you must remember—they are only illusions," Sean said.
In his hand was a deep, black stone, etched with a straight line—the Elder
Wand—while the triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the Stone were
still clearly visible. Sean subconsciously obscured the markings. The
Resurrection Stone was less an artifact that fulfilled desires and more one that
lured wizards to their deaths. For a wizard with a sound mind and few regrets,
it could allow them to see the phantom of a loved one; but for those consumed by
profound grief, it was a messenger from Death itself, beckoning them toward the
grave.
Thus, Sean had selected a few of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team members—wizards
who were "reasonably happy"—to test it, knowing they wouldn't recognize the
disguised Stone, nor would they be easily seduced by the phantoms it summoned.
"It's just an alchemical artifact that summons illusions, Captain Davies.
Please, be careful." Sean handed the Stone over.
"Just some illusions? As long as it isn't a rat—" Roger Davies laughed, though
he remained cautious. He closed his eyes and turned the stone in his hand three
times.
The results came quickly. Both Sean and Roger heard soft movements nearby, as if
light, ethereal bodies were shifting across the scattered twigs and soil by the
Black Lake. Roger realized they were neither ghosts nor flesh-and-blood living
beings. They were more like... memories that had become nearly tangible. They
weren't as solid as a living body, but they were far more real than a ghost.
They walked toward Roger, every face wearing a look of loving kindness.
"Grandpa..." Roger whispered in astonishment. Sean, however, could see nothing.
"Can only I see you?" Roger looked at Sean, asking the question.
"Others cannot see them, because you are a part of me, I think I understand..."
Roger seemed to be muttering to himself. Sean knew it must be the manifestation
of those memories crystallizing into form.
Roger spoke excitedly, chatting for a long time with a "Grandpa Davies" whom
Sean could not perceive. After an hour, Roger wiped the corners of his eyes.
"How can such a marvelous artifact exist!" Roger stared at Sean, still
struggling to believe it.
"Can you help me describe them in detail?" Sean asked. It seemed Roger hadn't
been negatively affected. Did this prove that for a happy wizard, the
Resurrection Stone wasn't as agonizing as he had imagined?
"Of course—" Roger was more than happy to oblige. "I know they were illusions,
but they were so lifelike. It was as if my grandfather's true soul was standing
right there, though he seemed to lack true emotion. My grandfather would have
been overjoyed to hear I'd won the double championship..."
For quite some time, Sean experimented with the Resurrection Stone's effects.
The members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team had seen their departed kin more
than once by the Black Lake. Their descriptions helped Sean complete a crucial
task: understanding the Resurrection Stone and fully realizing that he possessed
this legendary alchemical artifact.
Every day in summer grew more pleasant. Wizards longed to lie on the grass and
bask in the sun for the entire day. But they couldn't. With exams looming,
students could no longer run wild outside and were forced to remain in the
castle, straining to focus their minds despite the seductive summer breeze
drifting through the windows.
Only a few wizards were still walking about freely—such as the well-known Mr.
Green of Ravenclaw. He made appearances in the castle occasionally, going about
his business with a calm, unhurried air. Sometimes, a Ravenclaw would come
sobbing, clinging to him and saying strange things about wanting to experiment
with a "certain stone" for just a little longer.
But soon, the wizards were too busy to care about such things.
Exam week had arrived, and the castle fell into an eerie silence. On Monday at
lunch, part of the second-year students emerged from the Transfiguration exam,
looking drained and pale. They compared grades, complaining that the exam was
too difficult, with one question even requiring them to turn a teapot into a
tortoise.
Hermione fussed, claiming her tortoise looked like a sea turtle, which
infuriated everyone else, as they found such a minor detail entirely unworthy of
worry.
"My tortoise's tail stayed in the shape of a spout—how terrifying..." "Should a
tortoise puff out steam?" "My tortoise's shell has willow patterns on it, do you
think I'll be penalized?"
Sean was the last one to enter the examination hall; Professor McGonagall was
watching him with a gentle gaze. "This is very simple for you, but I hope you do
not underestimate such practice," she said.
There were exactly ten people in the exam hall; Sean spotted Justin, Neville,
and Ron among them.
"The exam begins—"
No sooner had Professor McGonagall finished than Ron completed his exam first.
Though he had broken into a sweat, he looked fairly relaxed. "Not bad,"
McGonagall noted.
Then came Justin, Harry, Neville... They all finished and walked out of the
hall, but Sean remained, deep in thought. He lifted his hand; surprisingly, he
held no wand.
Minerva McGonagall sensed something subtle, watching him without a word. After
two months of memory integration, Sean had moved beyond mere wandless magic. He
gently tapped his finger against the tortoise.
The tortoise soon began to undergo a marvelous transformation.
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