First the whole body began to give off steam, and then patterns slowly emerged across the turtle shell.
By the time Sean picked it up, it had already turned into a perfectly acceptable teapot.
He examined the teapot carefully, then tapped it once. The teapot slowly began to shift again, until it completely transformed back into a turtle.
After finishing, Sean quietly checked his mental state. He was a little tired, but not much.
Wandless magic required far stricter control than using a wand, and most of Sean's effort had gone into that.
The moment he looked up, he met Professor McGonagall's stern face.
"Wandless magic… is a dangerous skill… you need much more practice."
She spoke slowly. A few seconds later, her expression eased again.
"But there's no question that you've earned full marks, child. Well done—"
After the Transfiguration exam ended, everyone hurried through lunch and rushed upstairs again for Charms.
"How did it go?"
In the corridor, Hermione tipped her face up and asked Sean.
"Pretty well."
Sean said.
"So that means full marks. But I'll have full marks too. If everyone gets full marks, then it comes down to mistakes afterward—I think this time I might have a chance to beat you, Sean."
Hermione said it while hugging her book, then turned to Justin.
"And you."
"I think you will."
Justin surrendered without resistance.
Harry and the others couldn't really cut into the conversation, but they didn't mind.
Harry was focused on getting top marks in Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Potions, because only then would he meet the Auror requirements in The History of Magical Careers;
Ron carried the same vague ambition. He kept The History of Magical Careers at the very bottom of his book stack, and had left a discreet mark on the Auror page.
Neville, as always, was extremely nervous, clutching his notes and revising nonstop.
"I think Professor Flitwick might test a special charm—the Cheering Charm. You'd better look over it in advance."
Just before entering the exam room, Hermione offered the advice at top speed.
Harry and the others took it very seriously, because everyone knew Hermione was Professor Flitwick's second-favorite student.
Sure enough, Hermione was right. Flitwick did test the Cheering Charm.
Harry was so nervous that he overdid the movement, and Ron, who was paired with him, broke into a fit of hysterical laughter. In the end, he had to be taken to a quiet room and kept there for an hour before he could complete his own charm.
When Sean cast the spell, Justin started laughing before the charm even hit, to the point that Sean briefly wondered whether he had already cast it.
After dinner, the students hurried back to their common rooms—not to rest, but to start revising Potions and Astronomy.
And so the day ended.
That evening, Sean sat by the stained-glass window in Ravenclaw Tower, reading.
He read The Tale of the Three Brothers through once again, and beneath the deep blue, tranquil sky, mist slowly began to rise.
Far away in Dorset, Newt soothed the three noisy kneazles to sleep, and then, without meaning to, found himself thinking of those days last Christmas.
When he saw the mist slowly rising, he drifted off with an easy smile on his face.
After some unknown length of time, Newt opened his eyes and slowly turned in place, while the scenery around him seemed to materialize before his eyes.
It was a vast space—bright, clean, and with a crumbling building standing right in front of him.
It was an old Victorian house, with a sign on the door that read Children's Home.
A black cat—no, a kneazle—lay right above the sign, looking at him with emerald-green eyes.
"Mr. Scamander."
The black cat said.
"Honored Bastet."
Newt said with a smile.
Sometimes he came to the dream. When he saw the black cat seriously studying weather magic and spatial magic, he would sometimes feel that perhaps the old legends really were true.
"What would you like to learn today?"
Newt asked.
Whenever he asked that, he also thought of the creative passion that had returned to him after so long. Most of the manuscript of Dreams and Gods had already been completed.
Perhaps before long, Bastet would be able to see that book in other people's dreams.
"Today I want nothing."
The black cat said. Sitting on the wooden sign, its fur gleamed under the lamplight, giving it a fantastical kind of sacredness.
"Then it is… Leta. When—when will I be able to see her?"
Newt said, a little dazed.
"I need some memories, Mr. Scamander."
The black cat stated gently.
It glanced, somewhat obliquely, at its chest. There was not only the slate-like alchemical object there, but now also a deep black stone.
The Resurrection Stone.
Its function was to summon the souls of the dead, but naturally, it had limitations.
The user had to have at least some impression of the dead soul.
And in the black cat's mind, there wasn't the slightest image of Leta to be found.
"Of course, of course, an exchange must be fair."
Newt said it after a moment of dazed silence.
Dear Bastet possessed dream-governing magic. If an ordinary person wanted to trade with it, they naturally had to pay a price.
He certainly didn't think some unimportant magical knowledge would be enough to make such a powerful magical creature cross the boundary between life and death for him.
"I'll give you my memories. I willingly give them up. I only want to see her—"
Newt said over and over.
"What did you say?"
The black cat, after Newt had agreed, had already begun rummaging through the mist-clusters for something. A few seconds later, it tossed out a Pensieve with its tail.
The Pensieve landed in Newt's hands, and his face reddened slightly.
"Can a Pensieve really be used… in the world beyond the Veil?"
He murmured to himself.
"This place is my dream."
The black cat lifted one paw and gracefully traced a circle in the air, indicating, this much.
"Ah—"
Newt laughed. Filled with amazement at such powerful magic, and with a heartfelt kind of delight, he began using the Pensieve.
"I need to go with you."
The black cat jumped over, curiously studying the strands of memory.
Its paws landed on Newt's shoulder, its fur brushing his face. Newt thought that this might be the strangest and most wonderful dream he had had all year.
"I need to see her, Mr. Newt."
The black cat repeated one last time.
"I understand—"
Newt, almost shyly, avoided looking directly at the cat. Instead, he lowered his head into the Pensieve together with it.
In the memory, it was a rainy day.
A young Newt Scamander sat alone in a dim waiting area, staring blankly ahead.
A moment later, he felt something tugging at his wrist. Looking down, he saw Pickett the Bowtruckle swinging from a loose thread on his sleeve.
The thread snapped, Pickett tumbled down, and one of Newt's buttons rolled away down the corridor.
Newt and Pickett both watched it go, then ran after it at the same time.
Newt got there first. As he bent to pick up the button, he saw a pair of women's shoes in front of him.
~~~
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