"That's really interesting!"
Marcus exclaimed loudly, his face lit up with delighted laughter.
He'd just heard what a certain young wizard truly thought of his cooking, and nothing makes a cook happier than hearing someone genuinely praise how good the food tastes.
"Try this—"
Buoyed by confidence, Marcus handed Sean a strangely shaped, bread-like thing.
Sean took one bite, then immediately turned off the brooch, and an odd silence fell over the table.
Sean silently met Marcus's gaze. The old wizard's face flushed red.
"Ah… must've messed up the timing. Next time. Next time it'll be fine."
The Literal Translator had given Sean back a way to "speak," but it clearly wasn't always a good thing.
When someone exposes their real thoughts completely, it's very easy either to hurt others—or to get hurt.
The Translator was practically a truth serum. It still required Sean's consent to use it, but once words are spoken, you can't take them back, so you have to think even more carefully.
Most of the time, Sean kept it switched off and only used it occasionally.
…
While he was keeping the mandrake leaf in his mouth, Professor McGonagall would often sit with Sean and go over the details of Animagus transformation.
For example, during the long stretch of waiting for the thunderstorm, at every sunrise and sunset you were supposed to do the following: point your wand tip at your heart and recite the incantation:
"Amato, Animo, Animato, Animagus."
The spell had to be recited perfectly; even the slightest error could cause unpredictable changes.
And if you persisted in doing this correctly at sunrise and sunset, there would come a moment when, as the wand tip touched your chest, you'd feel a second heartbeat. That was normal; it meant you'd done everything right so far.
At that point you couldn't panic or be afraid. You had to keep everything exactly the same. The incantation needed to be spoken the correct number of times—none missed.
The professor was always there with him. Most of the time, Sean read notes on the Transfiguration sections of Ancient Runes, while Professor McGonagall drafted articles for Today in Transfiguration.
Specks of light fell across the sitting room; the beech trees' outlines blurred in the slanting warm sun.
Marcus wrestled with baking he just couldn't get right, occasionally trading a wordless stare with Sean after a taste test, then flushing red again.
The three little McGonagalls ran all over the place, sometimes not even in human form.
Their parents—McGonagall's nieces and nephew—could never stay on any topic for long before circling back to a certain young wizard, or that special article in the Daily Prophet.
Minerva McGonagall hadn't felt this at ease in a very long time. In all these years, this was only the second time she'd returned to the McGonagall cottage.
There were fewer people now, but the noise and warmth were the same.
In those dark years, she'd thought Hogwarts was the only place that accepted her, but now she finally felt something click into place—part of her had always stayed here. There were always people quietly waiting for her.
She'd been too hurt to notice.
Her gaze softened as it rested on Sean. The boy was still lost in his books; when he looked up from that world of knowledge, his eyes were briefly dazed as he met hers.
"Top-tier Transfiguration does have its own spoken spells. You can start with the section on Uagadou."
she said.
"Uagadou? I understand, Professor."
Sean's brooch answered in a steady, grown-up voice that contrasted sharply with his young face. McGonagall noticed the light outside had grown even brighter.
Sean quickly found the part of the notes about the wizards of Uagadou.
[Students at Uagadou excel in Transfiguration. Wands are a European invention; African witches and wizards didn't adopt them as useful tools until the 20th century. So at Uagadou, many spells are cast using hand-signs or gestures rather than wands.
"At Uagadou, even fourteen-year-olds can freely transform into elephants and leopards.
"This naturally makes us wonder: where does the true mystery of Transfiguration lie?
"In the incantation? The gesture? The wand movement? Or is it in willpower—or in the wizard's own mental strength?]
That paragraph caught Sean immediately, and he read on.
[The secret of Transfiguration comes from a deeper power within the wizard. Incantations, wands, and gestures are all tools—and tools do have their own effect.
"On the road to uncovering Transfiguration's true essence, relying on tools is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it's extremely clever.
"It's said that Uagadou wizards have mastered the arcane link between spoken spells and movement, which is what allows them to cast without wands.]
Spells and gestures?
Hogwarts had never actually taught any special Transfiguration incantations, and its wand movements were only briefly described in simple strokes.
Sean's mind jumped to Charms; Charms had both incantations and gestures, and they were much easier than Transfiguration.
The clearest example: in their very first Charms lesson, first-years could manage Lumos, but in their first Transfiguration class, aside from Sean, only Hermione had successfully turned the matchstick head into a needle.
Uagadou really was a strange and fascinating place, he thought. The magic there seemed… pure.
It also made Sean start looking forward to the next opening day at Fairy Tale Workshop.
A month later, Professor Tayla was still making time to drop by—and some Uagadou witches and wizards came to buy stock.
Sean would have plenty of chances to learn more about their remarkable Transfiguration.
Uagadou mages were strong in Astronomy, Alchemy, and Transfiguration. It seemed like every deep magic discipline, they had a hand in—is that just a coincidence?
Time slipped past while Sean waited; July was half gone before he noticed.
On the farm you could almost lose track of time entirely. The lazy atmosphere made you want to sleep in, day after day.
The little McGonagalls did exactly that. Sometimes they transformed into cats, raced through the fields until they collapsed, then fell asleep right there.
Marcus would eventually find them in the grain, gently carry them back, and never scold them—just stroll around with his camera, snapping picture after picture with great interest.
When the children woke up and saw their ridiculous photos, they'd clamber all over the old wizard, claws and teeth, begging him to destroy them.
In this drowsy stretch of days, Sean received a letter from far away.
"Snowy Owl"—well, she should be "Snow-Wing" now—stood on the window frame, watching as Sean opened the envelope:
[To Sean:
Have you been in touch with Harry? I've sent him a lot of letters, and he hasn't replied to even one.
Ron and Hermione told me it's the same for them, so I'm starting to think something might have happened that none of us know about.
Sean, if you have any information or thoughts, please let us know.
Yours faithfully,
Justin]
~~~
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