The warm days of September had already given way to the biting chill of late October.
Sean sat tucked in a quiet corner of the courtyard, book open on his lap, while excited students dashed past along the corridors. Thick vines had grown over the stone walls here, creating a hidden little nook shielded from the wind and the noise.
Every so often he directed his quill across a sheet of parchment, jotting down his latest theories.
On the endless road of magic, it felt like the destination kept moving farther away no matter how far he traveled.
Magic was the miracle by which wizards reshaped the world. In Sean's breakdown, the path broke down into three parts: building Order inward, seeking Wisdom outward, and finally forging the complete ritual.
His Child's Tale Cookies in Alchemy, the Fire-Dragon Wing-Beat in Charms, and the Will-Guidance Method in Potions were all natural outgrowths of that same system.
The ultimate goal was simple: omniscience and omnipotence.
Which meant magic could do anything—so long as the wizard truly believed it could.
Take contract magic, for example. No one really knew where its binding power came from. It was pure belief given form.
The same principle produced the Fidelius Charm—unbreakable secrecy as long as the Secret-Keeper lived—and the Unbreakable Vow, which killed anyone who broke it. Age lines kept anyone under seventeen from crossing them.
Sometimes Sean felt magic was like the night sky: deep, endless, and ready to birth new stars the moment a wizard formed a genuine desire.
A cold wind swept through the courtyard and turned a page in the Wizard's Book resting beside him.
He was deep in Black Magic research again.
Black Magic was the blanket term for any spell whose primary intent was to injure, control, corrupt, or kill.
Unlike ordinary charms or Transfiguration, the real difference lay in the caster's intent.
As Barty Crouch Jr. (disguised as Mad-Eye Moody) had taught, even the strongest Dark spell would fall flat without genuine malice behind it.
To Sean, that came down to a wizard's inner Order.
Black Magic drew on cruelty, fed the caster's vicious beliefs, and twisted their personal Order into something dark.
But could a wizard reshape that Order?
Of course.
Strip away the cruelty, turn it into a self-defensive form of offense—that was exactly what Sean was doing.
"Today's the day. Where's Sean? We can head out early—Hogsmeade opened ahead of schedule…"
Voices drifted closer.
"We can buy everything we need while we're there!"
Another voice chimed in.
"Mum and Dad love Honeydukes' Pepper Imps—found him—"
Hermione and Justin hurried around the vines and stopped in front of him, faces flushed with excitement.
Hermione was so eager she didn't watch her step. A vine caught her foot and the glass potion vial in her bag slipped free.
"My crystal vial—"
She gasped.
"Petrificus Totalus—"
From a few feet away Sean flicked his wand.
The vial instantly dulled, its surface turning stone-gray. It hit the ground with a dull thud instead of shattering.
Hermione picked it up curiously. The once-clear crystal now looked like it had been dipped in mud.
"Is that… Petrificus Totalus?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.
Sean nodded. A system message chimed in his ear.
[You have practiced the Petrification Curse at Legendary standard. Master-level proficiency +300.]
[Petrification Curse has advanced.]
[Petrification Curse: Initiate (270/300)]
His second fully reshaped Black Magic spell—and his second Initiate-level one.
Its new purpose was to protect fragile objects or restrain dangerous wizards.
The idea had come from Snape's Sectumsempra.
Almost no one knew that Snape had originally designed Sectumsempra to draw blood from living creatures. If the only goal had been simple harm, why include a counter-curse and hide the spell in an advanced Potions textbook?
"It's different from the version in the books…" Hermione leaned in, eyeing him suspiciously.
"The textbook says the victim becomes completely rigid, limbs locked to the body, unable to move or speak, and topples over like a board. It doesn't say anything about part of them turning to stone."
"I made a few simple modifications," Sean said.
"You're creating new magic?!" Justin caught on immediately.
"More accurately, a form of Black Magic that doesn't corrode the caster's soul," Sean confirmed.
The two younger wizards fell silent.
"I heard that when Snape first arrived at Hogwarts he already knew more curses than half the seventh-years and was even trying to invent his own spells…" Justin murmured.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Hermione asked, confused.
Justin said nothing. He looked at Sean, then at Hermione, then up at the sky.
"Hey—are you even listening to me?" Hermione grabbed his chin and turned his face back to her.
"We should probably get going…" Justin said quickly.
"What about Harry and the others?" Hermione grumbled, finally letting go.
"Neville dropped his coin pouch. Harry and Ron are helping him look. We're meeting at Honeydukes, and…"
Justin pulled a small mirror from his bag. It floated gently in the air.
"You can ask them yourself, Hermione. Remember Sean's Magic Hand Mirrors?"
"I just…" Hermione's cheeks turned pink. She clutched the flap of her bag tighter.
Inside lay a very pink mirror with a cat-patterned back and two soft cat-ear decorations on top.
"Hermione?" Justin peered curiously.
"Let's go," she said stiffly.
The three of them set off, still bickering good-naturedly.
The morning was clear but windy.
After breakfast they lined up in front of Filch, who checked every name against the long permission list signed by parents or guardians.
Once they were cleared they stepped out into the crisp, bright October sunlight and turned left onto the road to the village. The wind whipped their hair into their eyes.
"Where should we go first?" Hermione asked, practically bouncing.
Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card. Thatched-roof cottages and shops wore fresh blankets of snow. Holly wreaths hung on every door, and enchanted candles twinkled on the trees.
The snow here had been charmed to fall gently and never stop.
The streets were packed, and every witch and wizard seemed to share one common trait.
"I'm in Hogsmeade right now… where are you? Oh sweetheart, the Child's Tale Workshop is wonderful, but your father has the invitation… Want me to pick up a copy of Wizarding Magical Chronicles at Green Book House? Just warning you, the signed editions sold out ages ago…"
"Whole street's crawling with Dementors. I'd like to see Black try to slip in… Don't worry… I'll be back soon… just stopping at Green Book House first…"
"Send another box of Jelly Slugs from Diagon Alley—they've bought us clean out—"
Almost every wizard carried a small mirror. Some spoke into them, others kept them floating nearby.
The mirrors came in every style imaginable.
One had a fuzzy pouch attached that looked tiny but somehow produced a full broomstick.
Another looked like a plump colorful fish—you squeezed its belly to open the mirror and it floated on its own.
Some hovered beside their owners like loyal pets.
"Official statistics say every witch and wizard in Britain owns at least one Magic Hand Mirror," Justin read from a newspaper he'd unfolded. "Its invention has been called the second communications revolution in magical history."
"What was the first?" Hermione asked, curious.
"The Floo Network," Justin answered. "Oh, and the mirror network is also called the Magic Web."
Hermione turned to look at the quiet young wizard behind them—the true creator of that web.
Even Sean looked surprised.
So the Emerald Workshop's claim of tens of thousands of units sold was real?
He'd thought Britain didn't have that many wizards…
Then again, that explained why the goblins had gifted him an entire vault recently.
Come to think of it, Sean now had three separate vaults at Gringotts. His wealth rivaled that of an ancient pure-blood family.
With the Magic Web already in place…
A thought occurred to him: could magic create an entire virtual world?
Like a real network.
No wizard had ever tried it before. Why would they, when magic already let them manifest fantasy into reality?
Muggles built virtual dungeons and played heroes inside them. A wizard could simply conjure a real dungeon in the physical world.
Still, it was an interesting idea. Maybe he'd ask Professor Tyra about its feasibility later.
Lost in thought, he barely noticed how much busier Hogsmeade had become.
Not far away Honeydukes was overflowing with Hogwarts students. Someone suddenly shouted:
"The Child's Tale Workshop is open!"
At the same instant every Magic Hand Mirror lit up with the same message:
[The Child's Tale Workshop is now open. Welcome!]
Students poured out of Honeydukes in a wave. Even the shopkeepers—witches and wizards alike—locked their doors and hurried after them, one bald head gleaming in the sunlight.
"Hey! I haven't bought my sweets yet!" Hermione protested.
"Come on, Hermione. There's a three-headed dog performance today," Justin said soothingly.
"A three-headed dog? Hagrid brought Fluffy?!" Hermione's eyes went wide.
"When was the last time you checked your mirror?" Justin asked carefully.
"Well…" Hermione stammered.
Truth was, ever since she'd bought the overly cute cat-ear case and buried herself in her studies, she hadn't used it much.
"Sean…" She turned to him, cheeks puffed out.
Sean was trying to hold his ground against the surging crowd.
"Professor Quirrell is helping me test some new Child's Tale Cookies…" he explained.
"They're right outside the workshop, so…"
Justin finished the thought.
A witch's mirror nearby erupted with an excited cry: "A three-headed dog with cat heads!"
"It's only half-Transfigured cats…" Sean started to clarify, but Hermione had already grabbed his arm and was dragging him through the crowd.
"Hurry, Sean…"
She clutched Crookshanks tightly, eyes sparkling.
It took a while, but Sean finally managed to slip free from the press of witches and wizards gathered at the workshop entrance.
Hermione and Justin were still happily petting the three-headed cat.
Come to think of it, his Child's Tale Cookie proficiency was nearly at Master level now. The results had grown far more refined.
He could now create cookies that granted partial magical-creature abilities while preserving some of the subject's sanity.
It sounded like a small step, but it had already caused a storm in the wizarding world.
Several Ministry orders had been placed—and promptly rejected by Professor Tyra, who said the formula wasn't fully perfected yet.
If Sean hadn't been so short on time, he wouldn't have asked Quirrell to run the tests for him.
Snow and wind swirled through Hogsmeade, the cold biting hard enough to numb fingers.
"I say," Justin said, cheeks red as he and Hermione rejoined Sean, "how about we grab some butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks?"
"Sounds good," Sean agreed. The chill was starting to get to him.
The three of them crossed the street and ducked into the little pub a few minutes later.
It was packed and noisy, warm and smoky.
A strikingly attractive witch with generous curves was tending the bar, surrounded by a loud group of wizards.
"That's Madam Rosmerta," Justin told Hermione. "I'll get the drinks, okay?"
Sean and Hermione squeezed toward the back and claimed the tiny empty table between the window and a pretty pine tree, right beside the fireplace.
It was the same spot they'd sat at last time.
A few minutes later Harry and Ron appeared in the doorway, looking half-frozen.
"Sean?" Harry and Ron lit up. Neville trotted behind them as they hurried over.
The table was now completely full.
Justin returned shortly with three foaming mugs of hot butterbeer, then immediately turned around to fetch more.
"Oh…" Harry looked apologetic.
"Harry, you need to be careful," Hermione said the moment she saw him, thinking of Sirius Black.
Notices were posted everywhere now:
[Ministry Notice: Customers are reminded that, unless otherwise stated, Dementors will patrol the streets of Hogsmeade from sunset onward each day. This measure is for the protection of Hogsmeade residents and will remain in effect until Sirius Black is recaptured.
Please complete all shopping before sunset.
Happy Halloween!]