Harry was back!
The news landed like a bomb. Everyone who'd planned to spend the night at the Leaky Cauldron came charging down from the second floor.
Of course, since none of them had brought galleons, the overnight stay was generously funded by Justin.
"Merlin! Harry, what happened to you! It's been nearly a month, we never got a single reply from you."
They were all gathered around the dim, shabby bar; Ron was the first to speak.
"I ran into a monster…"
Harry began describing everything that had happened. The others gasped from time to time.
Sean was getting ready to return to Professor McGonagall's cottage. It was only ten o'clock—not especially late.
But before going back, Harry had to be settled somewhere.
Ron was the first to invite Harry to stay, followed by Justin and Neville.
But after glancing at Sean, Harry finally chose Ron—Ron had been his first friend, and he always felt closest to him.
That was when Ron realized how late it had gotten. He hastily grabbed Harry and rushed him out of the Leaky Cauldron.
Then Justin and Hermione left together—their parents were even waiting for them outside the pub.
Lastly, Neville disappeared in the fireplace glow.
Only then did Sean mount his broom and streak across the sky like a shooting star.
…
After the business of rescuing Harry, the group wrote to each other constantly. The sitting room at the McGonagall farm was filled with all sorts of owls flying in and out.
Sean didn't pay that much attention, though; he was counting days. It was nearly a full month. He was about to complete the first stage of his Animagus transformation.
Before that, though, the second opening day of Fairy Tale Workshop was approaching.
That morning, as usual, Sean practiced Transfiguration by the lake. A rock floated up, then in an instant transformed into a stone guard.
Its height was still low, barely three meters. Compared to McGonagall's four- or five-meter Stone Piertotum, his looked stunted; and McGonagall's animated statues had reinforced properties—they could leap down from several stories high without so much as chipping. That was something ordinary stone simply couldn't do.
Sean's stone guard couldn't manage anything like that.
He guessed that McGonagall's Transfiguration, even within the realm of Masters, exceeded ordinary mastery by a level; any higher and she would almost be touching Dumbledore's level.
When he'd practiced until he was exhausted, his thoughts began to drift.
Dobby had shown up, which meant the Basilisk would soon be released.
If he wanted to make a Basilisk cookie and block the danger, he needed power at least on par with the monster itself.
That raised the core question: where did his strength actually rank?
He hadn't really fought much. Against the trolls and the professors' obstacle course, he'd always speed-ran the encounters.
That made it hard to judge.
As sunlight spilled into the house, Sean slowly turned his gaze toward Marcus McGonagall, who was sipping his tea.
He'd heard from Professor McGonagall that the old wizard Marcus McGonagall had once been an Auror.
…
Marcus McGonagall couldn't find a reason to refuse a young wizard's request to spar.
He actually lifted his mustache, pleased.
The boy was a prodigy, true—but Marcus McGonagall had been an Auror.
After that soul-deep grief he'd once suffered, he'd poured all his anger into resisting the Dark Lord.
Back then, Voldemort was in his first rise. Death Eaters carried out atrocity after atrocity, using terror and threats to expand their ranks, escalating into open violence.
Anyone who opposed them was subjected to the Unforgivable Curses, tortured and killed. For "fun," they slaughtered Muggles as well.
In response, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch Sr., had broken precedent and authorized Aurors to use Unforgivable Curses for interrogation against Death Eaters.
That alone showed how catastrophic Voldemort's impact had been.
Marcus McGonagall had spent those ten years fighting and surviving as an Auror.
Unlike many of the current Aurors, he'd endured the crucible of war, battling on the most dangerous front lines.
Even after he was injured, his strength hadn't diminished that much.
The one regret was that he'd never found a successor.
He'd forbidden his own children from going to those battlefields. He could not live through that kind of shattering grief again.
But he also knew that if you loved a child, you had to teach him how to face danger. You had to hone his wings so he could protect himself.
Especially if he had the talent and a destiny waiting, a responsibility to shoulder—you couldn't just mother-hen him forever. You had to train him like an eagle.
"Come then, child! Hit me with your strongest magic! Don't worry about hurting me—I've been an Auror long enough to have seen everything."
Marcus stood out on the field beyond the farm, a wide open stretch he'd warded with spells. It was a perfect place to drill a young wizard in real combat.
"I'll go all out."
The brooch buzzed softly.
Sean's eyes sharpened as he raised his wand.
He couldn't speak with the mandrake leaf in his mouth, so he could only use silent spells.
But that hardly weakened him. In fact, most of the spells he was good at had already reached silent-casting level.
A burst of flame leapt from his wand and, seconds later, had shaped itself into a two-meter-tall fire dragon.
Marcus watched as the dragon roared and came hurtling toward him, and his body gave a tiny, involuntary shiver.
Even he had never seen a sight like this. This was his sweet, clever child—a first-year?
"Finite!"
A bolt of red light slammed into the dragon, but it didn't vanish right away—its surface suddenly sprouted lizard-like scales.
Multi-layer Transfiguration.
Marcus didn't hesitate; he prepared to Apparate.
But for a brief instant, he couldn't move at all.
Out in the distance, Sean already had his wand raised. A silent, instant-cast Impedimenta—a Master-level Impediment Jinx that could hold even an elite Auror like Marcus for a few seconds.
It was the spell combination technique Professor Flitwick had taught him, letting him cast two spells at once.
For a moment, Marcus was truly stunned—but his eyes sharpened in the next heartbeat. He ripped free of the Impediment, then shouted:
"Protego!"
A shimmering shield sprang up just as the shrinking dragon crashed into it. The impact sent him flying, raising a cloud of dust.
Close. That almost went badly…
Marcus's figure reappeared through the haze, looking a little battered.
Just as he was about to fight seriously, give it a full hundred percent, he saw Sean plop down on the ground.
"Grandpa Marcus is really strong."
he heard that mature voice say.
And his old face promptly flushed red.
~~~
Patreon(.)com/Bleam
— Currently You can Read 120 Chapters Ahead of Others!