Dawn's eve.
Curled around the warmth of the fireplace, Isolt was telling him about what had once happened on this land. The cold wind made the doors and windows creak and groan, and Sean tugged his scarf tighter, listening intently as Isolt's voice drifted across the fire.
"—The original cottage was built from branches and animal hides, so my beloved James decided he would help me rebuild a stone cottage on the summit of Greylock Mountain.
"He drew up a blueprint that looked perfectly workable, but when it came to construction… he was still a No-Maj.
"As for me, I used magic—and in a single afternoon, I turned that design into reality. We named the cottage after my parents' home. We called it Ilvermorny—"
Isolt's pearly eyes were full of remembrance.
"So you've decided to leave?" Sean asked seriously, lifting his pumpkin juice.
"Dawn's eve is when the lost ones move," Isolt said, pointedly.
"Flobberworm mucus, lavender, valerian, Forgetfulness Potion, mistletoe berries—" Sean nodded and began counting out the materials for the ritual.
He needed to use the ingredients to inscribe runes, and then, at the end, cast a particular spell to complete the rite of rest.
Isolt watched him quietly as he checked each item, then turned that deep gaze toward the window.
Outside was nothing but white—snow still swirling in the air.
Inside: the silver-white owl dozed on a perch by the fire. Behind it were all kinds of photographs hanging on the walls; beside it sat rows of bottles and jars. The whole room looked like a Victorian oil painting.
In front of it, a narrow strip of sky showed through the heavy curtains—cool and clear like watered-down blue ink, the color between night and dawn. Everything was still, save for Whitey's slow, deep breathing.
When everything was ready, Sean saw Isolt smile. "This kind of alchemical rite isn't simple. You have extraordinary talent—alchemy, and of course magical creatures too. The second child to take a Wampus away… perhaps Hogwarts witches and wizards have a special pull on Wampus cats?"
Her eyes moved to the runic array. "Ilvermorny's beasts are free. Take her, child. Don't worry about anything else.
"And Hogwarts… it's a distant symbol. I've never been there. Three centuries—everything I had, I gave to Ilvermorny—"
Isolt murmured to herself.
Sean watched his breath fog into white mist. He quietly opened the Wizard's Book; inside the little cabin, it was dawn's eve as well—silent and serene.
He stepped into the cabin, took out a photograph, and set it near Isolt's hand.
In it was Hogwarts Castle—one of those Christmas Great Hall group photos.
"Ah—"
Isolt froze, smiling like a flower in bloom, but the light in her eyes faded; her pupils seemed to lose focus, going hollow and distant as she stared far, far away.
"Thank you, child."
She tried to reach out and touch the little wizard, but her arm could only pass through him.
"You… aren't going to say goodbye?" Sean asked.
"I'm not good at goodbyes. This is better. We never say goodbye," Isolt said.
Sean only glanced out the window. Because outside, it wasn't just snow.
Beneath the beech tree stood an elderly headmistress—and an elderly Pukwudgie.
Sean nodded and prepared to begin the ritual, only to find Isolt didn't cooperate at once. Instead, she floated into a shadowed corner of the stone cottage.
Sean followed—and found a book on the floor: The Ghost Book.
"During the years I was a ghost, I studied myself without pause. But sadly… at first my mind still held, and then, before long, I lost it—"
Isolt's expression was heavy with memory. "But I've perfected the final death of ghosts.
"You'll understand, dear one. Ghosts cannot die—only remain trapped in the emotion of their death. No joy. And with time, forgetfulness, distance… an eternal torment.
"Fulfill a ghost's obsession, and you can send it on. And doing so will bring you benefits you won't expect."
Isolt drifted into the center of the ritual.
"Is death a great adventure?" Sean suddenly asked.
"If it hasn't happened, no one can truly know," Isolt said with a smile.
"Alright. Goodbye, Madam Sayre," Sean said.
Mist rose. Sean studied it with curious eyes.
"From Coomloughra Valley in County Kerry to North America—hardships upon hardships, now only passing clouds.
"I… and this world… we quarreled like lovers."
Isolt's form grew thinner and thinner, until at last she hummed an ancient melody, singing in that old tune:
"Massachusetts' Ilvermorny—
we chose it, we chose it.
Great school of magic,
your walls protected us.
Our days with you, a dream.
You taught us everything of magic.
And now one thing is certain:
wherever we are, wherever we go,
our true home, our one and only home—
is Ilvermorny—"
The cottage fell silent.
Sean heard someone crying. He wasn't surprised. When someone leaves, someone cries.
Isolt—she had been a worthy headmistress, and an exceptional witch.
Now dawn had arrived.
And Sean needed to get ready to carve out the Wizard's Book's second space—first expanding the book's interior, then moving in a natural environment, casting the Separation Charm and weather charms, and finally forming a snowfield region.
More importantly, he still hadn't finished today's "Wampus closeness" task.
Isolt had told him not to worry about the Wampus cat, which made things easier. Now he only needed to explain it to Professor Terra.
Just as Sean tapped the Wizard's Book to open the entrance, a voice cut in.
"Wizard!"
A Pukwudgie was knocking.
Sean froze, then felt a little at a loss.
It was clearly William—the Pukwudgie who'd been Isolt's friend for three centuries—and Sean had just helped send Isolt on…
"Mr. Hermes."
Another voice followed.
Headmistress Herrera. Isolt's beloved student. They had all seen Sean send Headmistress Isolt on…
And strangely, Sean's expression settled into calm. He opened the door.
A three-foot-tall Pukwudgie with a terrible expression strode in.
It glanced at Sean, then placed a few mayflowers at the center of the ritual.
"I'm leaving," William the Pukwudgie told Headmistress Herrera, who had just come in.
Then he turned back to Sean. "Wizard—you've earned my respect. I'll repay you, though Pukwudgies despise humans."
~~~
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