Marcus McGonagall was Professor McGonagall's younger brother, and the whole family welcomed Sean from the heart.
But the animals on the farm were out of luck.
Very soon Sean was given a room of his own—in the best spot in the villa, with the finest view.
Life here was leisurely and pleasant; the farm was large, and the McGonagalls were fairly well-off.
Dinner was always absurdly lavish. Marcus McGonagall's enthusiasm never let up, as if, in the blink of an eye, there would be no one left at Minerva McGonagall's side.
"Hey! My dear little fellow! Fancy a ride?" Marcus McGonagall was the type who made friends easily. Although he was forty years older than Sean, there wasn't a hint of airs about him.
Oh, and yes—he was a wizard, but his grandchildren were not.
When he mentioned this, the wizard's eyes, for once, grew deep and complicated.
Also: a few other middle-aged witches and wizards (Sean guessed in their thirties) had come to the villa today. They were thrilled to see the professor. But Sean didn't see their father, "young Robert" McGonagall, who appeared in the family photos in the sitting room.
Night.
A warm, bright room.
Sean flicked his wand, and a shell-backed fire lizard scampered out of the fireplace. It bit down on a branch and burned it to ash.
[You practiced advanced Transfiguration at an Expert standard. Proficiency +1000]
Sean had never stopped practicing Transfiguration. By now, his Expert-tier progress was:
[Title: Master of Transfiguration]
[Transfiguration: Expert (212,000/300,000)]
At this pace, by the end of first year he'd at least be at the threshold of Master.
Outside the door, a few heads were pressed together.
The little McGonagalls watched the fire lizard scamper out and chorused, "Waaah—"
"Is he a wizard?" asked Sarah McGonagall, peering through the top of the door crack. Below her were her brother and sister: Bud McGonagall and Zoë McGonagall.
"I think so—and his eyes are beautiful," Zoë replied.
A clear meow sounded in the distance. A pure white cat slipped through the crack, hopped onto Sean's desk, and rubbed its head against his hand.
Sean stroked the cat; it purred at once.
"He's just like the wizards in fairy tales—I bet he can turn you into a cat, Sarah," Bud said, a little hopeful.
"May we come in? We want to bring you a Christmas present, Mr. Green." He knocked politely.
The door opened by itself.
The three tumbled in as a heap—still leaning against the door.
A few soft cushions caught them; Sean noticed that even as they rolled, they held their beautifully wrapped gifts aloft.
The gift boxes floated up.
"W—wow—oh, I mean… can you turn Sarah into a cat? She's been looking forward to it," Bud asked, embarrassed.
Sean nodded and traded them for the presents he'd prepared.
Soon they were outside playing with biscuits. Before they left, they neatly closed the door.
Their voices drifted along the corridor:
"Good heavens! He really is a wizard—the kind who helps people in fairy tales! Exactly like the stories I read!"
"You turned into a cat, Sarah—hey, can you still talk? Don't run, Sarah!"
Then came the drumbeat thud-thud-thud of feet as the McGonagalls ran downstairs in a clatter of excitement.
Night truly fell. Sean set down the gifts and glanced out at the dark.
The stars are always brighter in the countryside; the beeches rose and fell, composing a profound, tranquil nightscape.
Sean touched his wand to his crown, and his figure melted into shadow. A Disillusionment Charm. He was headed outside the villa to practice Transfiguration. Just then, he seemed to overhear something by chance.
"Minerva—he… and you—you're both at Hogwarts? You know what I mean—Hogwarts with Dumbledore." Marcus McGonagall's voice—his usual warmth gone quiet and low.
"Mmm," came Professor McGonagall's soft reply.
"Good. Will you come with me to Robert's grave tomorrow…?"
"…As you say, Marcus."
"Minerva, the magical world is unsettled. I've a place at Canary Wharf under a Fidelius Charm—if anything happens, bring him there. He's a fine boy—even Paws, my Kneazle, likes him."
"Hogwarts is the safest place in the world, Marcus."
"I only trust myself—and believe the Ministry's people are dead; you know, young Robert has already paid our price. I respect your choice—but respect mine too. Don't throw yourself in too deep. That boy still needs you."
"Many children need me."
"I knew you'd say that, Minerva."
Then, a long silence. Sean remembered.
Of Professor McGonagall's two younger brothers, one had died in a terrorist attack during Voldemort's reign.
Time slipped away quietly.
Sean stood by the still lake, watching its placid surface when—suddenly—a water snake burst forth.
[You practiced advanced Transfiguration at an Expert standard. Proficiency +1000]
He lowered his wand. His gaze was as calm and deep as the lake.
Voldemort killed many, committing countless atrocities in the wizarding world.
Such crimes might seem distant—but for those slaughtered in those attacks—and for their grieving families—each one was a wound that never heals.
Every grain of the era's sand, when it lands on a person's head, weighs as a mountain.
The tranquil lake was like the magic-bright mirror in the castle.
Professor Dumbledore would naturally skip the glimpse of Hogwarts in it—but only Sean knew—that was a distant vow.
Professor Snape. Headmaster Dumbledore…
They knew what they had to face—and yet they did not.
The lake rose in another surge; fire bloomed upon the water's heart, and then hardened into the carapace of a fire crab.
Sean looked at the crab; the firelight washed over him.
[You practiced advanced Transfiguration at a Master standard. Proficiency +3000]
He lowered his wand again, tired—but his eyes were not the calm of before.
He met his reflection in the lake from afar—like the day he had met himself in the Mirror.
"Only one person knows the end of the story. So even if only one must see it through—that person will be me."
Stars glittered in the night sky. Those who gaze up know their own smallness—but the small, now and then, forge greatness.