Lunch consisted of lamb chops and potatoes, which Jon wolfed down at breakneck speed.
After eating, he made a trip to the Room of Requirement to organize the things he'd left there.
As a base of operations, the Room of Requirement didn't have much time left; after all, once Dumbledore's Army (DA) was established, this place would become much livelier. But now, he no longer had the same urgent drive to study charms or brew potions as he did a few years ago, so Jon wasn't particularly worried.
...
The afternoon bell rang, and Jon made his way to the Charms classroom on the fourth floor. Professor Flitwick, the diminutive Charms teacher, sat atop a large pile of cushions, cheerfully welcoming the students as they entered.
"Christopher Patrick?" he called out in his sharp, high-pitched voice, glancing in Jon's direction.
"Yes, Professor!" Jon quickly stood and gave him a respectful nod.
"Welcome... welcome to Hogwarts!" Flitwick hopped down from the cushions and walked over to Jon, shaking his hand warmly.
Then, class began. The topic of the day was the "Accio" spell.
Professor Flitwick spent the first ten minutes describing the importance of the Summoning Charm, explaining that it was a key focus of the O.W.L. exams in their fifth year.
"Last year, an outstanding Hogwarts student used this very spell to defeat a Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon during the Triwizard Tournament!" His voice caught slightly as he spoke, and he gave his nose a brisk rub before continuing the lesson.
He handed each student a feather and instructed them to summon it to their hand using the Accio spell.
"The Summoning Charm may be the most complex spell you've encountered so far, so don't be discouraged if you fail—nor should you rush," Professor Flitwick said as he moved among the students.
"Ooh!" he suddenly let out a startled cry.
Hurrying back to Jon's side, Flitwick gave him a quick once-over. The feather that had been lying on Jon's desk was now resting neatly in his hand.
"Well done, Mr. Patrick!" Flitwick exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically. "Ten points to Slytherin!"
Jon had mastered the Summoning Charm a year ago, so he'd had no difficulty performing it now. His effortless display drew astonished looks from both the Slytherin and Hufflepuff students.
...
By the end of class, no one else had managed to successfully cast the Summoning Charm.
As the other students packed up and filed out of the classroom, Jon deliberately lingered behind.
"Is there something you need, Patrick?" Professor Flitwick asked, balancing a large stack of books in his arms.
"Yes, Professor!" Jon hurried over to him and bent down slightly.
"A relative left me an heirloom, but I don't know how to open it... Could you take a look?" he asked, pulling a small silver box from his pocket.
The regular octahedron, which Jon had brought back from Durmstrang, had puzzled him for more than two months.
At this point, he could only turn to an expert for help. Though unassuming in appearance, Professor Flitwick possessed profound knowledge of charms and was a reliable teacher—Jon could trust him completely.
Flitwick carefully took the silver octahedron, sniffed it lightly, then frowned. He pulled a magnifying glass from his pocket and examined each of the object's eight faces in turn.
Finally, he drew his wand, waved it over the box, and muttered an incantation under his breath.
"If I'm not mistaken..." Flitwick said seriously, "this appears to be a Misericore."
"A Misericore?" Jon repeated the unfamiliar term, puzzled.
"A very powerful magical artifact," Flitwick explained with a sigh. "I've only heard of it myself. It seems the relative who left this for you was a truly remarkable wizard."
"What does it do?" Jon asked eagerly.
"Truthfully, I don't know," Flitwick admitted, shaking his head. "The functions of a Misericore are kept strictly secret. It requires a key to open—and only when it comes into contact with that key will it reveal its true function."
"Then what could the key be?" Jon pressed.
"That depends entirely on your relative. Only the creator knows the key to the Misericore," Flitwick said with a small smile. "So, Mr. Patrick, you should check whether he left a will or any other written record."
"Also," he added, "the key to a Misericore is often related to its purpose. You might try to find out what the creator once used it for."
"Alright. Thank you for your help, Professor Flitwick!" Jon said with a respectful bow.
"You're quite welcome!" Flitwick replied cheerfully, nodding as he watched Jon leave the classroom.
...
The well-traveled and knowledgeable Professor Filius Flitwick had indeed been a great help to Jon.
However, finding the key to the Misericore proved to be a serious challenge of its own.
All afternoon and into the evening, Jon experimented tirelessly—testing fire, water, sugar, and other common substances against the Misericore.
None of them had any effect. The small silver box remained tightly shut.
When night finally fell and his three roommates were fast asleep, Jon lay in bed, absently holding the small octahedral box in his hand.
Since this object was connected to Grindelwald, that likely meant its key would also have something to do with him.
Jon searched his memory for everything he could recall about Grindelwald. Then, suddenly, inspiration struck.
He sat up, drew his wand, and pointed it at his temple.
"Obliviate!"
A wisp of milky-white substance—something between gas and solid—emerged from the tip of Jon's wand.
Carefully, he guided the delicate strand toward the Misericore.
In an instant, the small box sprang open, and the milky-white substance was completely absorbed into it.
Then, the tiny octahedron burst forth with an astonishingly bright light—so brilliant it nearly outshone the sun.
The enchanted carp swimming near the ceiling scattered in panic.
Sean Avery stirred awake with a start. "What's going on?"
"Nothing at all," Jon replied calmly. "Did you have a nightmare?"
Smiling faintly, he slipped the now-closed box back into his pocket.