Chapter 545: A Message for Grindelwald
It was the eve of Halloween.
When Sean woke that morning, his mental to-do list had grown significantly. He
walked into the Great Hall to find it transformed: hundreds of candle-filled
pumpkins rested on the floor and tables, a swarm of live bats fluttered through
the rafters, and orange banners flickered like tongues of fire.
These banners drifted lazily through the air like colorful water snakes against
the enchanted ceiling, which was currently brewing a heavy autumn storm.
The food was, as always, spectacular. Justin and Ron were busy stuffing their
faces, their cheeks bulging. Even Hermione, who was still in the middle of a
cold war with Ron over their pets, couldn't help but let out a small giggle at
the sight.
Sean's brow smoothed as he turned his gaze toward the High Table. Headmaster
Dumbledore looked as grandfatherly as ever. He occasionally adjusted his
half-moon spectacles and rubbed his crooked nose with a look of deep
reminiscence. Sean knew exactly whose curse had left that nose permanently bent.
Sean looked down and opened the golden-bound volume in his lap—the Wizard's
Tome.
From between the pages, several shards of shimmering glass drifted into the air.
These had been given to him by Dumbledore personally. Very few wizards would
understand the significance of these fragments. To most, they would look like
the remains of a broken perfume bottle.
But they were the remnants of the Blood Pact.
It was a symbol of an ancient, rare, and terrible magic. In its physical form,
it was a magnificent, vial-shaped silver pendant. Intricately designed, silver
filigree encased a central glass chamber. Sean knew that before it had
shattered, two droplets of blood—intertwined but never truly merging—had hovered
within.
They represented the life force and magical essence of the two wizards who had
made the vow. Should either holder attempt to move against the other, the vial
would glow with a blinding intensity, and the magic would physically intervene
to stop them. It was an absolute contract; not even the most powerful wizard in
history could break its hold.
And now, Dumbledore had given the shards to Sean.
Sean pondered the meaning behind the gesture. Had the Headmaster truly moved
past his resentment of Grindelwald? Or was this merely a pragmatic necessity to
ensure Sean had a mentor capable of teaching him the higher mysteries of magic?
Sean didn't have the answer yet, but he knew one thing for certain: with these
shards in his possession, Nurmengard would welcome him during the summer
holidays.
As for Gellert Grindelwald...
Sean wasn't the only one in the Hall thinking of that name. Dumbledore's blue
eyes were fixed on his Teaching Assistant. He watched as Sean stared at the
glass fragments, his mind clearly miles away. It was easy to tell when Sean was
lost in thought—his book would start to tilt slightly in his hands.
He will be alright... Dumbledore sighed inwardly.
The man atop the high tower of Nurmengard could inspire ambition in any wizard,
and he could turn a clear stream into a muddy swamp. But he could not stain an
entire ocean.
Dumbledore watched the boy. Where other students were like vibrant flowers, or
singing birds, or sensitive mimosas, Sean Green was like sand—or perhaps like
fresh snow. Hardships and temptations could write their stories upon him, but
with a single, calm gesture, Sean could smooth over the surface and return to
his pristine state.
A hoot echoed through the hall as a messenger owl arrived. A magnificent bird
with silver-white tail feathers had crossed the Alps and the North Sea to land
on Dumbledore's finger. Not even the legendary storms of the ocean could halt
its flight.
Dumbledore leaned down, his aged fingers gripping his quill.
To be delivered to...
Tomorrow was the first Hogsmeade weekend. Today, the Heads of Houses were busy
collecting permission slips from the third years.
As Charms class ended, the Ravenclaws scrambled to press their slips into
Professor Flitwick's tiny arms.
"That's it, children! Don't miss the deadline!" Flitwick squeaked cheerfully. He
caught Michael Corner by the sleeve. "Mr. Corner, I believe you've forgotten
something?"
Michael stumbled, nearly dropping his new set of Wizard's Chess, looking
thoroughly dazed.
"Oh! Right! Sorry, Professor!" Michael pulled his slip from his bag, his face
turning pink.
"No matter, Mr. Corner. Happy Halloween?" Flitwick chuckled.
"Happy Halloween, Professor," Michael said, scurrying off.
It was Sean's turn next. He extended his slip toward the Professor, but Flitwick
suddenly tucked his hands behind his back.
"Mr. Green, you're handing this to the wrong person," Flitwick said, his eyes
twinkling with amusement.
"Mmm... pardon?"
Sean looked down at the tiny Professor, wondering if the Sorting Hat had made a
mistake and put him in the wrong house after all. "Did the Hat—?"
Flitwick interrupted him with a laugh. "Off you go, Mr. Green! What are you
thinking? Honestly, I'm far too busy..."
The Professor gently nudged Sean toward the door. Sean stood in the corridor for
a moment before the realization hit him. Of course. McGonagall.
Herbology.
Hermione and Ron were still in the middle of their cold war. They hadn't spoken
a single word to each other, even though they were paired with Sean to strip
Puffapod beans.
Harry had recently been working with Neville, who was fascinated by the Auror
profession and spent most of his time pepperring Harry with questions.
"Your permission slip... what happened with it?" Hermione asked Sean as they
plucked the fat, pink pods from the stalks. Shimmering beans popped out and
landed in a wooden bucket with a soft clatter. She cast a brief, sharp glance at
Ron.
"I'll be handing it in during the next class," Sean said.
"But the next class is Transfiguration," Ron interjected, leaning in and staring
defiantly at Hermione.
Sean looked at the two of them. They were clearly using him as a neutral
territory in their battlefield. He wasn't interested in being a pawn, so he
stood up and walked over to Professor Sprout to help her move some heavy trays
of Mandrakes.
Left to their own devices, Ron and Hermione went back to glaring at each other
in stony silence.
After Herbology, Sean headed toward the Transfiguration classroom. His mind was
on Hogsmeade. It was the only all-wizard settlement in Britain, home to all
manner of eccentric characters.
Originally, he hadn't had much reason to visit, but now there was a wizard he
needed to meet: the owner of the Hog's Head Inn.
Beyond that, Lupin had mentioned that life in Hogsmeade had changed recently.
The village had apparently undergone a "refresh." Whenever Lupin spoke of it,
his eyes never left Sean.
Sean was curious. He intended to visit both the village and Diagon Alley this
weekend. He wondered what these "changes" could possibly be.
As they reached the Transfiguration doors, Ron and Hermione were still bickering
in hushed, angry tones. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall opened the door at
that moment.
"Before we begin," she announced, her voice carrying over the chatter,
"Gryffindor students, please remember: your Hogsmeade permission slips must be handed to me before Halloween. No slip, no trip. Do not forget!"
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