Deep within the collapsed woods.
A giant stone hand entwined with vines rose from the ground like the limb of a giant. Even at a glance, this massive hand was at least sixty feet in diameter.
Even more terrifying was that the giant hand was covered in all sorts of complex magical circuits, proving that this was no simple Transfiguration spell.
It was composed of at least three high-level Transfiguration spells combined.
This was already far beyond Sean's limits.
But the fire still burned in his vertical pupils.
The cat's eyes allowed him to see clearly in the dark night, and also allowed him to understand something else more clearly.
He knew that some things were more important than others.
"I leave the rest to you."
Sean said to Professor Quirrell.
Quirrell was stunned at this moment. He watched the giant hand break through the earth like a miracle, and then watched it trap the greatest white wizard of the century.
He still hadn't quite come to his senses.
"As you wish."
His subconscious answered for him.
"Thank you, Professor..."
Sean smiled with relief.
"Vine Stone Asylum!"
The young wizard chanted loudly.
No one knew when the vines had appeared. Will and Quirrell only knew that as the vines surged like a gale, layer upon layer of Transfiguration spells were added to the giant hand in front of them.
This was exactly Sean's method of countering the Reparifarge spell: constantly adding high-level Transfiguration spells, forcing the opponent to confront him head-on.
That is, as the opponent reversed the magic, he reinforced it.
Unless the opponent could destroy all his Transfiguration circuits in an instant—like with the Dragon's Wing Flap just now—it would be impossible to break free from the Vine Stone Asylum.
"Excellent Transfiguration. Seven minutes left, my dear Mr. Green."
Dumbledore's voice drifted over from who knows where.
It was pitch dark all around, making it hard to see anything outside the glow of the Fiendfyre.
But Sean saw it. His Vine Stone Asylum had been opened by Headmaster Dumbledore, a hole the height of a person appearing from a single point.
Sean had no time to think about how Headmaster Dumbledore did it; his body was already teetering.
"Help me, Teacher Ravenclaw."
He said at this moment.
"You should know, it's just a lesson."
Sean vaguely heard a voice. He felt dizzy, just like he had in the hospital wing a month ago.
"Teacher Ravenclaw, please."
Sean said to the voice.
"I've never known you to ask for help like this, so why not?"
The voice put Sean at ease.
So, what constitutes a wizard's magic?
When a wizard possesses all the knowledge of another wizard, and a spiritual will constructed from the same memories, can they display the same level of magic?
Ravenclaw said: Or else?
"Round two, begin."
The black-haired young wizard raised his wand again.
A faint, mischievous smile curled at the corner of his mouth, the kind typical of Ravenclaw students.
Speaking of which, Ravenclaw House unanimously voted a certain Mr. Green as the "Least Ravenclaw Ravenclaw."
He had neither the unbridled fanaticism for knowledge nor the generally proud personality of a Ravenclaw.
He was quiet and plain, like a boundless ocean.
"If there were a referee, I'd say this is a foul, plain and simple."
Dumbledore walked over step by step, his tone relaxed and casual, as if they were chatting over drinks.
Will, seeing him walking defenseless and unblocked toward Mr. Green with his bow drawn, tensed his body tightly.
"The greatest wizard of the century?"
The young wizard said with a smile.
"Oh, that's just excessive praise," Dumbledore said.
"Three minutes, how about it?"
The young wizard thought for a moment and said.
"A very reasonable amount of time."
Dumbledore approved.
"I have to give him an explanation. Opportunities are few; he shouldn't have used it here."
The young wizard was beaming.
It was clearly a profound, seasoned smile, but on that face, it looked sly.
"One rose rushing to become another rose is not a good thing."
Dumbledore observed him carefully, his smile showing.
"Who knows? Are you timing this? Are the three minutes up?"
The young wizard continued.
Dumbledore's conversational rhythm was interrupted, and his smile froze on his face.
He looked at the house not far away; the whole thing was almost burned down.
"Ravenclaw's wisdom..."
Dumbledore sighed.
"Our student, you still have much to learn."
The young wizard murmured, then swayed and fell into Quirrell's arms.
"Mr. Green!!"
Quirrell roared at the top of his lungs, then stared deathly at Dumbledore.
He had no mind to think about the strange scene just now; with veins popping, he directed the Fiendfyre to burn hotter and hotter.
He knew clearly that he couldn't burn through the curse, and he couldn't stop Dumbledore for even a second.
But he had to fall before Dumbledore got the Resurrection Stone.
"You've changed a lot, and for the better, Quirinus. It turns out wizards live better without intoxicating things like power."
Dumbledore waved his wand lightly, and Quirrell and Pukwudgie the butler found they couldn't move.
They could only watch as Dumbledore walked toward the house, toward them.
The flames had been burning fiercely in the darkness, and the house was surrounded by suffocating, billowing black smoke. The evil fire beasts were devouring everything unscrupulously.
Having lost Quirrell's control, they would soon swallow the Resurrection Stone along with the curse.
But in such an urgent situation, Dumbledore stopped.
He looked slyly at the young wizard clutching his wand and said softly:
"How come I didn't know a wizard could hold his wand so tightly while unconscious?"
Sean opened his eyes. The vertical pupils slowly dilated and transformed back into normal pupils.
"You let it go?"
Sean looked at the still-burning house and asked softly.
"I'm afraid the esteemed Rowena wanted to do more than just talk to me?"
Dumbledore changed the subject.
"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore, I still kept some magic in reserve."
Sean spoke frankly.
He always knew he could ask Ravenclaw to sub in for him because he possessed most of Ravenclaw's memories.
But the problem was, doing so had extremely serious consequences—the wizard's soul would undergo completely unknowable changes.
The principle was just like how Dark Arts affect a wizard's personality.
So Sean never planned to use it.
Unless absolutely necessary.
"A good practical lesson. I'm afraid I have to give you full marks for your performance."
Dumbledore smiled kindly.
"Thank you... but... in the end, does forgetting make everything beautiful?"
Sean asked carefully.
"I'm afraid not, child. There is a dead knot between love and forgetting. Even when rusted through, it won't let us go."
Dumbledore blinked benevolently.
"So..."
"So I leave everything to you, child. Remember? For the old to ignore the abilities of the young is arrogant and foolish. I still have time, child. I am not without choices. So it is I who thank you, dear Sean. Hope... that is a precious thing, like honey."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
Sean thought they held stars.