It was just before dawn.
Seated around the warmth of the hearth, Lady Isolt was recounting the history of this land. Outside, the cold wind rattled the doors and windows, so Sean tightened his scarf, listening intently as her voice drifted through the flames.
"...The original cottage was made of branches and animal hides, so my husband, James, decided to help me build a proper stone cottage atop Mount Greylock.
He drew up a blueprint that looked quite feasible, but when it came to the actual construction, well... he was a No-Maj, after all.
I, on the other hand, used magic and turned his design into reality in a single afternoon. We named the cottage after my parents' home back in Ireland—Ilvermorny..."
Lady Isolt's pearl-colored eyes shimmered with nostalgia.
"So, you've decided to leave?" Sean asked earnestly, cupping his warm pumpkin juice.
"Before dawn is the time for lost souls to move on," Lady Isolt replied, her words carrying a deeper meaning.
"Flobberworm mucus, lavender, valerian roots, Lethe River water, mistletoe berries..."
Sean nodded and began to inventory the ingredients required for the ritual.
He needed these materials to carve runes, and finally, a specific incantation to complete the Rite of Passing.
Lady Isolt watched him quietly as he checked the items, then turned her deep gaze toward the window.
Outside, the world was a vast expanse of white, with snowflakes still dancing in the air.
Inside, the silver-white owl was asleep on a perch by the fireplace. Behind it, the wall was covered in various framed photographs, and beside it were shelves lined with bottles and jars. The whole scene looked like a Victorian oil painting.
Through the gap in the heavy curtains, a sliver of sky was visible—cool and clear like diluted blue ink, that specific color suspended between night and dawn. The room was silent, save for Whitey's slow, deep breathing.
When everything was ready, Sean saw Lady Isolt smile. "Such an alchemical ritual is no simple feat. You have a supreme gift for alchemy, and, of course, for magical creatures—the second child to take a Wampus cat away... perhaps Hogwarts wizards have a unique charm for Wampus cats?"
Lady Isolt looked at the runic circle. "Ilvermorny's magical creatures are free. Take it with you, child. Have no other worries.
Speaking of Hogwarts... it is a distant symbol to me. I have never been there. Three centuries... I have given my all to Ilvermorny..."
She murmured the last part to herself.
Sean watched his breath turn into white mist. He silently opened the Book of Wizards; inside the little wooden cabin within the book, it was also the quiet time before dawn.
He stepped into the cabin, retrieved a photograph, and handed it to Lady Isolt.
It was a photo of the majestic Hogwarts castle, specifically the Great Hall decorated for Christmas, with students and staff gathered together.
"Ah..."
Lady Isolt paused, her smile blossoming like a flower. Yet the light in her eyes began to fade, her pupils losing focus, becoming hollow and distant as she gazed at something far away.
"Thank you, child."
She tried to reach out and pat the young wizard's head, but her hand passed right through him.
"Aren't you... going to say goodbye?" Sean asked.
"I am not good at goodbyes. Perhaps it is better this way. We never say goodbye," Lady Isolt said.
Sean silently glanced out the window. There was more out there than just snow.
Beneath a beech tree stood an elderly headmaster and an ancient Pukwudgie.
Sean nodded and prepared to begin the ritual. But to his surprise, Lady Isolt didn't cooperate immediately. Instead, she floated over to a secluded corner of the stone cottage.
Sean followed and found a book on the floor—The Book of Ghosts.
"In my time as a ghost, I spent every moment studying myself. Unfortunately, while my intellect remained intact at first, it wasn't long before I lost it..."
Lady Isolt's expression was reflective. "However, regarding the final death of a ghost, I have perfected the theory.
You will come to understand, my dear, that ghosts cannot die; they can only be trapped in the emotions of the moment of their death. There is no joy, and over time, one becomes forgetful and detached. It is an eternal torment.
Fulfilling a ghost's obsession can send them on their way. Doing so will bring you unexpected benefits."
Lady Isolt stepped into the ritual circle.
"Is death a great adventure?" Sean asked suddenly.
"No one knows about things that haven't happened yet," Lady Isolt said with a smile.
"Alright. Goodbye, Lady Sayre," Sean said.
A mist began to rise, and Sean watched it with curiosity.
"From County Kerry in Ireland, to the Coomloughra Valley, to North America... through all the trials and tribulations, it all passes like fleeting clouds.
I have had... a lover's quarrel with this world."
Lady Isolt's figure grew increasingly faint. At the very end, she began to hum a song to an ancient tune:
"Ilvermorny, Massachusetts, we choo-se it! We choo-se it!
The wizard school supreme.
Your castle walls, they kept us safe.
The days with you, a dream.
You taught us all our magic,
and now one thing's quite clear...
Where'er we roam,
Where'er we roam,
Our one true home,
Our one and only home,
Is Ilvermorny dear..."
The cottage fell silent.
Sean heard someone weeping. He wasn't surprised; when someone leaves, someone cries.
Lady Isolt—she was undoubtedly a worthy headmistress and an outstanding witch.
Now, dawn had arrived.
Sean needed to prepare to open the second space in the Book of Wizards. First, he had to expand the book, then move in a natural space, cast the Severing Charm and Atmospheric Charms, and finally create a snowy region.
More importantly, he hadn't completed his daily affinity task with the Wampus cat yet.
Lady Isolt telling him not to worry about the Wampus cat was a relief; it made things much easier. Now he just had to inform Professor Taylor.
Just as Sean tapped the Book of Wizards to open the entrance, a voice interrupted him.
"Wizard!"
A Pukwudgie was knocking on the door.
Sean froze, feeling a bit flustered.
It was obviously William the Pukwudgie, Lady Isolt's friend of three centuries. And Sean had just sent Lady Isolt away...
"Mr. Hermes."
Another voice rang out.
That was clearly Headmaster Agilbert Fontaine, Lady Isolt's beloved descendant. They had both witnessed him sending Headmistress Isolt on.
Sean's expression slowly calmed. He silently opened the door.
A three-foot-tall Pukwudgie with a terrible complexion walked in.
He glanced at Sean, then placed a few mayflowers in the center of the ritual circle.
"I'm leaving," William the Pukwudgie said to Headmaster Fontaine, who had just walked in.
Then he turned to Sean. "Wizard, you have earned my respect. I will repay you, even though Pukwudgies loathe humans."