Chapter 566: Wizards in Training
The old "walrus" strode through the Great Hall doors.
"Who's that?" "The new Defense teacher?" "I heard Snape finally got the Defense
post." "Merlin, anything but that..."
The students' whispers buzzed like a hive of bees. Usually, Horace Slughorn
would have scanned the room, his eyes lingering on each student like a bee
inspecting flowers in a garden. But today, he marched straight toward the High
Table, his eyes fixed on the dark-haired young wizard.
He reached out a hand. "A pleasure, truly. It is good to see you again, child."
Sean hadn't expected Slughorn to bypass the Headmaster entirely. He stood up and
shook the Professor's hand politely. Dumbledore didn't look surprised; his
silver beard twitched with an amused, grandfatherly grin.
Professor Trelawney, however, let out a low, startled squeak.
"Now, before we begin the feast, I believe an introduction is in order,"
Dumbledore said, standing up once Slughorn had taken his seat. "Professor Lupin
has departed Hogwarts due to... unavoidable circumstances."
The Hall erupted. Resentful mutters and curious whispers filled the air.
"Therefore, today, we are delighted to welcome back a former colleague.
Professor Slughorn!" Slughorn stood, his bald head gleaming under the thousands
of candles, his waistcoat-clad stomach casting a vast shadow over the table.
"Horace was a Professor here for many years, and he has agreed to return to his
old post as Potions Master."
"Potions?" "He's the Potions teacher?"
The word echoed around the Hall. Many students looked as though they'd misheard.
Sean noticed Slughorn give him a subtle wink.
"Then who's teaching us Defense?" Harry murmured miserably from the Gryffindor
table. He had only just started to enjoy the subject.
"Simultaneously," Dumbledore's voice boomed over the chatter, "Professor Snape
will be taking over the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"NO!"
Harry's voice was so loud that several dozen heads snapped toward him. He didn't
care. He glared at the High Table with a mix of fury and betrayal. How had Snape
finally won? Where was Lupin? Where was his father's friend? He had been the
best teacher they'd ever had!
Harry wasn't the only one with questions; the entire Hall was a cacophony of
debate. Dumbledore, seemingly oblivious to the sensation he'd caused, waited a
few seconds for silence to return.
"That is all for now. Let the feast begin!"
He sat down. Snape, sitting to Dumbledore's right, didn't bother to stand. He
simply raised a hand in a lazy gesture of acknowledgement as the Slytherin table
broke into cheers.
"When I retired, Severus had only just joined the staff... oh, he was a fine
lad, even if he had a few... er... complications of the heart," Slughorn
whispered to Sean as they began to eat. "I was Head of Slytherin back then, you
know. And you, dear boy? Which house claimed you?"
"Ravenclaw, sir."
Sean chatted politely with Slughorn, but his mind was already back at Hope
Cottage. The Headmaster's notes felt like they were burning a hole in his
pocket. He was desperate to get back and cross-reference them with the library
books he'd borrowed.
"Ravenclaw! Ah, a house of intellect. I know several exceptional Ravenclaws—one
is a high-ranking official at the Ministry, another is a senior editor for the
Prophet..." Slughorn smiled warmly. Then, a glint of cunning flickered in his
eyes. "Dumbledore tells me we have an exceptionally young Potions Assistant this
year?"
Snape's bored expression vanished. He fixed the "walrus" with a cold, piercing
stare, but Slughorn seemed entirely unaware of the hostility.
"I am, Professor Slughorn," Sean confirmed.
"Simply marvelous," Slughorn beamed.
"I'm afraid," Snape interrupted, his voice like grinding stones, "that he is...
inadequate."
"Ah, Severus! It's been too long. How have you been?" Slughorn greeted him with
unbothered warmth, ignoring the bite in Snape's tone.
"...Fine," Snape muttered, looking as though he'd just swallowed a lemon.
"Good, good. You know, I was so sorry to hear about... well, everything. Very
sorry. You were always one of my favorites." Slughorn's watery eyes searched
Snape's face. Snape looked away, his posture stiff and unnatural.
"My dear boy," Slughorn turned back to Sean, "I must tell you, your previous
professor—Severus here—is a genius at the cauldron. I'm not surprised you
haven't picked up all his 'tricks' yet; a master like him is hard to emulate."
Snape looked even more uncomfortable.
"When I taught him, he was just a little scrap of a thing, yet his textbooks
were already filled with improved recipes. He was never one to follow the rules
blindly, was he?"
Sean snapped back to the conversation and nodded. He had indeed learned much of
his "unorthodox" knowledge from Snape. The Professor had even helped him refine
his Magical Intent theory.
"See? I told you we'd be of one mind!" Slughorn chuckled proudly. "Severus has
excellent taste in assistants."
Snape seemed to have lost the ability to speak. After a long pause, he managed
to hiss through his teeth: "His brewing technique is still... lacking. He
requires more... discipline."
"Naturally, naturally! No castle is built from the top down. I shall mentor him,
just as I mentored you..." Slughorn was practically vibrating with joy. "As my
Assistant, I shall expect great things. But I promise you, Sean, you shall
achieve wonders in this field."
Snape couldn't find a rebuttal. He shot Slughorn a look of pure annoyance and
turned back to his plate.
The dinner passed in a strange, tense atmosphere. After Slughorn mentioned the
"Slug Club" for the third time, Sean spotted the first students leaving the
Hall. He stood up, offered a polite farewell to the staff, and strode toward the
secret entrance of Hope Cottage.
Inside his private sanctuary, Sean ignored the absence of the owl portraits. He
gripped his wand, the Elder and Phoenix feather humming in his hand.
Dumbledore's ancient notes were spread out on the table.
"Element Vitalization!"
Hope Cottage began to stir. First, the floating candles dissolved into dancing
balls of fire that zipped around the room. Next, the large pumpkin-shaped
bookshelf groaned and stood up on two wooden legs, sprouting a gnarled arm.
Finally, Sean's main desk began to click and rearrange itself, forming a
massive, spherical creature with a maw full of jagged teeth and eyes made of
flickering flame.
[You have practiced a Special Transfiguration (Element Vitalization) at an
Expert level. Matter Transfiguration +50, Magical Transfiguration +50] [Element
Vitalization: Novice (140/300)]
"So, the constraint can go deeper," Sean whispered.
Dumbledore had taught him that by restricting the scope of the magic, the power
of belief became more concentrated. Sean had initially thought this only applied
to time and distance. But now he realized it applied to quantity.
Vitalizing everything within ten yards was one thing. Vitalizing exactly three
specific items within that same range was another entirely. The magical drain
was significantly lower.
Sean checked his internal state. He still had plenty of reserves left—the theory
was sound. However, his face was pale. Restricting the flow of magic saved
power, but the act of restricting it was a massive drain on his mental
willpower.
The solution was simple: practice.
Sean's lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. There was no better feeling than
tangible progress.
In the final second before the spell expired, Sean "merged" the floating fires
and the pumpkin creature into the wooden giant. The result was a pumpkin-headed,
flaming wooden golem that loomed over the room.
Just as the transformation hit its peak, the door burst open. Ron Weasley walked
in, froze, and promptly fainted into Harry's arms.
"RON!" Harry shouted. Then he saw the wooden monster and his jaw hit the floor.
SLAM.
The door was kicked shut from the outside. Hermione stood in the corridor,
looking annoyed. "What are you two up to now?"
"A HALLOWEEN MONSTER!" Ron yelled, suddenly waking up.
"Halloween was weeks ago, and it's not April Fool's, Ron!" Hermione snapped. She
reached for the handle, but Ron held it shut.
"I'm telling you! Pumpkin head! Eyes made of fire!" Harry added, grabbing
Hermione's other hand.
"I. Don't. Believe. You."
"Just let her in," Ron muttered. "You can't stop a mule once it's set its
mind... unless you tie it up... OUCH!"
Hermione had just pinched his arm. "I'm going in."
She and Justin pushed past the boys. Inside Hope Cottage, everything was quiet.
Sean was sitting calmly in his chair, reading a book.
"Mmm... it seems Sean handled the monster," Justin said softly, gesturing for
the others to keep their voices down.
"Hmph. Pathetic acting," Hermione muttered, heading for her usual seat to open
her moon charts.
Harry and Ron poked their heads around the corner. "Where is it?" Ron whispered.
"Sean killed it?" Harry guessed.
"Good evening," Sean said, looking up from a very old, leather-bound volume. "I
was just practicing my Transfiguration. I hope I didn't startle you."
"Practicing?!" Ron and Harry said in unison.
"That was Transfiguration?" Ron's eyes were the size of dinner plates.
"I'll use the Hidden Room next time," Sean apologized.
Ever since the "Messenger" had revealed the shack's true nature, the cottage had
expanded to include private rooms for the group. Sean viewed it as the house
utilizing vacant space, much like the Room of Requirement.
Each room reflected its occupant: Sean and Hermione's were filled with books;
Justin's was half library, half kitchen; Neville's was a lush conservatory; and
Ron's was packed with Wizard's Chess sets and Transfiguration targets.
"No, no!" Ron quickly backtracked. "Can you do it again, Sean? Please?"
Sean gave Ron a long, measuring look and then nodded.
Moments later, the Shack was filled with screams of "Wicked!" and "Merlin's
Beard!"
[You have practiced a Special Transfiguration (Element Vitalization) at an
Expert level. Matter Transfiguration +50, Magical Transfiguration +50] [Element
Vitalization: Novice (190/300)]
By late November, the weather had turned to "Frozen Iron." Every morning brought
a thick layer of frost, and the wind felt like a razor against the skin. The sky
was a permanent shade of pale blue-grey, and the mountains were capped with
white.
The second Quidditch match was approaching.
"Sean, are you really not coming?" Justin asked, looking disappointed. He was
standing by the exit of Hope Cottage, his scarf wrapped thrice around his neck.
"Mmm," Sean nodded. He had been lost in the intricacies of Element Vitalization
all day and didn't want to break his flow.
"But... Oliver Wood asked me to tell you... this is Bruce's first match..."
Sean paused. He closed his book.
"I'm going," he said.
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