The wind drifted in through the stained-glass windows while Sean sipped the pumpkin juice Justin had somehow gotten hold of.
A few thin clouds floated across the sky like white flowers in an oil painting, and the sunlight on his back felt pleasantly warm.
[Sleep sets elves, ghosts, and the "spirit-double" free to act; distance poses no obstacle. People far apart can establish immediate contact, sometimes appearing as a half-dialogue state.]
That was from Professor McGonagall's notes on the ancient concept of the "spirit-double." Understanding it helps with the shift from "self" to "living creature."
If you mastered it deeply, you might even learn the Animagus form described in Intermediate Transfiguration.
Even if Animagus wouldn't be hugely useful, Sean still looked forward to the experience.
As for dreams and the spirit-double, Sean felt a flicker of insight. In the original Goblet of Fire, Harry had a dream—Cho Chang, Cedric, and his Firebolt appeared in it.
Later, "the dream shifted—" Harry's body changed; he became a snake.
This might be what the notes meant:
[Those who don't know they possess a spirit-double will think what they saw was a dream, but those who do know are very clear they weren't dreaming at all—they manifested a spirit-double.]
Harry, Voldemort, and Nagini were each other's "spirit-doubles," which is why they sensed the concept. Dumbledore later told Harry he'd been paying close attention to Nagini for a long time.
As expected, after so many centuries of development, magic is anything but simple; sometimes it's as complex as a sealed tome. Without a properly qualified guide, it's hard for young wizards to grasp.
If Professor McGonagall hadn't given Sean her notes, he'd have been stuck trying his luck in the library to reach this deeper knowledge.
Just as James and Sirius, once they'd mastered the Animagus transformation, even managed to teach Peter Pettigrew—proof that hands-on, master-apprentice teaching has always been highly effective in the wizarding world.
Leaves rattled down outside the window with a soft susurrus; a draft slipped through a crack, only to be chased back by the hearth's roaring flames. Sean noticed Justin have Neville send over a sheet of parchment with the Levitation Charm.
Face flushed with effort, Neville didn't dare lose focus; only when the parchment settled did he let out a long breath.
A real joy surfaced in Mr. Longbottom's chest, and a delighted voice sounded beside him:
"Brilliant, Neville!"
"Make the left-hand motion bigger—well, I mean, huge improvement, Neville."
Sean picked up the parchment from the front edge of the table. In the firelight, the handwriting itself seemed to hold warmth:
"Oh—Sean, I've been meaning to ask you.
When can we talk again about Chocolate Frog cards? Or the Great Hall's ever-changing ceiling?
Do the toads in the Potions classroom's glass case remind you of anything?
It's that Chocolate Frog you helped me catch.
Do you want to go see Hogwarts' kitchens?
Just you, me, and Hermione.
Alright, Sean, I know you're busy, but I want you to know it isn't only the wondrous magic that needs you—we do too."
Sean froze for a moment. He saw Justin and Hermione both looking at him—Hermione's eyes peeking over her book, Justin smiling at him with simple sincerity.
"House-elves?!"
On the way from the Great Hall toward the kitchens, Hermione couldn't help blurting out, "You mean those beings who can do magic without wands, usually found serving old wizarding families living in manor houses and other fine estates?"
"Yes," Justin said, curiosity showing in his eyes at Hermione's questions. "Hermione, are you really that interested in them?"
"Of course." Hermione pulled Hogwarts: A History from her bag and pointed to a passage for Sean and Justin. "Hogwarts has a community of house-elves, but I've never seen them. It's said they usually avoid wizards, so—" She tipped her nose high. "Are you sure you've found them?"
"If—this counts," Justin said, gently scratching the painted green pear. It squirmed and giggled, then turned into a golden door-handle.
"The 'Never Go Hungry' Club welcomes you—so go on, push the door, Hermione."
Hermione looked to Sean and Justin, nerves fluttering. Justin made a little "after you" gesture; Sean simply nodded.
With a creak, the first thing they saw was the ceiling—not as tall, but every bit as broad as the Great Hall above.
Four very long wooden tables—identical to the four House tables upstairs—were set in neat rows so the elves could send exactly the right dishes up to each House.
In the great hearths, flames danced year-round beneath copper cauldrons big enough to stew soup for hundreds.
Most astonishing of all was the magic happening everywhere, all at once.
"Switching Charms, Levitation Charms, and all kinds of food magic—nonverbal, wandless. So this is Hogwarts' kitchens," Hermione breathed, eyes roaming as her quill scratched furiously.
"The food that suddenly appears for you—was that the house-elves?" Sean asked softly.
"Caught me," Justin said, not the least bit surprised. "Oh, Sean, tell them whatever you'd like to eat. And for some reason, the elves all seem to like you—"
Just then, a tiny, slight house-elf approached Sean. It had bat-like ears, bulging tennis-ball eyes, and a rather long, flat nose.
It had been nudged forward—apparently chosen to ask the young wizards what they wanted.
"Welcome, welcome, Mr. Green. Would you like something to eat?"
Sean was a little puzzled. "Uh—do you know me?"
"Of course, Mr. Sean Green. We've been expecting you," it murmured shyly, adding something Sean couldn't quite catch.
"May I know your name?" Sean asked gently, setting his question aside.
"Oh! Oh! What an honor," the elf piped in a tiny voice. "I'm Ira, Mr. Green."
"Ira, is it? Alright—may I ask you something? Why do you know me?"
Sean didn't think the house-elves would have noticed him—no more than he thought he'd somehow be wildly popular among the first-years.