Saturday morning.
The Great Hall's ceiling was a bright tile-blue, with a few faint wisps of cloud drifting across it, just like the sky beyond the tall, mullioned windows.
Sean sipped his porridge and ate eggs and ham in small bites while summarizing the previous day's magical studies.
The sky-blue quill kept dancing, writing two words on the parchment:
"Fatigue."
Sean looked thoughtful too.
The Time-Turner certainly increased the amount of time a wizard could use, but it did not increase the amount of energy a wizard had available.
This timeline was singular. There was no such thing as parallel time and space.
Rather than "parallel," Sean preferred the word "overlap."
For example, if the Sean before using the Time-Turner was brewing potions, while the Sean after using the Time-Turner was practicing Transfiguration, the final result time produced would be that Sean had both brewed the potion and gained Transfiguration proficiency.
It was as if another Sean had split off, and the two Seans worked together to advance his magical studies.
Of course, from Sean's own personal experience, his time was still one continuous line. It was just that a few extra hours had been added.
Therefore, fatigue also overlapped completely.
"Temporal disorder."
Sean wrote down a few more words.
If fatigue could still be eased with potions, then the disorientation caused by time was much harder to avoid.
Imagine that five hours were added out of nowhere to a person's day. That meant their day now had twenty-nine hours.
If they were supposed to wake up at six and sleep at twenty-two, then what about someone using a Time-Turner? How were they supposed to arrange those extra five hours and unify their schedule?
Sean decided to use the Time-Turner at the same time each day, hoping it would help with his increasingly muddled sense of time.
"Fatigue" and "temporal disorder"—both constantly interfered with any wizard attempting to tamper with time.
Neither was an easy thing to solve.
No wonder Hermione in the original story had eventually been unable to bear it and returned the Time-Turner.
Now, the first signs were already appearing.
Every night, Sean could definitely see Hermione sitting in a corner of Hope Cottage, several desks spread out in front of her covered with textbooks, Arithmancy charts, Runic dictionaries, diagrams of Muggle heavy-lifting methods, and dense page after dense page of notes.
She barely spoke to anyone. Whenever she was interrupted, she snapped harshly.
Ron, especially, had tried to apologize and had been glared down by Hermione several times without mercy.
A dinging sound rang out. Sean looked up. A flock of owls had flown in through the windows.
The air above them was suddenly chaotic. Hundreds of owls flooded into the Great Hall, circling over the long tables and dropping letters and parcels into the crowd of chatting students.
A bulging package fell onto Neville's head. Immediately after that, a large gray lump dropped into Hermione's jug, and milk and feathers splashed all over them.
"Errol!"
Ron shouted, grabbing the soaked owl by the legs and pulling him out.
Errol collapsed on the table with both legs sticking into the air, a damp newspaper still clamped in his beak.
Sean's magic hand mirror blocked the splashing milk, preventing it from wetting his precious books.
And at that very moment, a respectful face appeared in the mirror.
"Mr. Green."
"Mr. Sirius."
One advantage of the magic hand mirror was that the call audio had been specially processed. Voices from the other side of the mirror could not be heard by other wizards.
So Sean could openly talk to Sirius in public.
"We have returned to Britain and are setting out for Little Hangleton at once—"
"Meet at the Hanged Man pub at a quarter past three."
"As you command."
The call ended quickly, but if they had used an owl, their hardworking messenger would probably have had to fly for several days and nights.
Just as the Daily Prophet had said, the appearance of the magic hand mirror had iterated the wizarding method of communication, and deserved to be called the second communications revolution in magical history.
"Third-generation magic hand mirrors!"
Ron picked up the damp Daily Prophet and said excitedly, "Merlin—"
The young wizards immediately crowded around, and cries of surprise rose one after another throughout the Great Hall.
"Are they going on sale?"
Hermione said instinctively, a blush appearing on her face.
She had been looking forward to the third-generation magic hand mirror for a long time. It meant she could find the professors without any effort.
"Next weekend—"
This was the first time in quite a while that Hermione had responded to Ron, and Ron's cheeks had already gone red.
"Do you want your child to be isolated from the Hogwarts family? Imagine it—everyone is chatting on the local magic network, and only your child knows nothing.
A weekend, perhaps with a gathering, a picnic, or a party?
Oh, guess who wasn't invited?"
Neville quietly read the exaggerated description from the Daily Prophet, and his lips instantly turned pale from fright.
"Neville, that's just an exaggeration,"
Justin comforted him quietly. "And you already have a magic hand mirror, don't you?"
Only then did Neville realize it, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
The Great Hall was noisy. The young wizards enthusiastically discussed how many magic hand mirrors they wanted to buy, paying no attention to the fire salamander Fred had running around everywhere, nor the bag that suddenly snapped open.
Only when one of Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks unexpectedly exploded did the nearby students fall silent for a second.
"Fred. Detention."
Professor Snape said coldly.
A wave of suppressed laughter rose around them.
By then, Sean had already left the Great Hall.
He was going to Headmaster Dumbledore's second lesson.
He wondered what Dumbledore would teach him this time, and that always filled Sean with great anticipation.
At the entrance to the Headmaster's office,
the stone gargoyle simply turned its back to Sean. The door opened before it even jumped aside.
Sean walked toward the wizarding lift, and before long he had reached the second door.
"Good morning, Green. Here again?"
a portrait said.
Sean nodded.
"Come in."
Dumbledore's voice rang out.
Sean stepped into the room.
Aside from the portrait that had just spoken, the other portraits were all asleep, their chests rising and falling gently.
Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, perched on the golden stand by the door, as large as a swan, his scarlet and gold feathers dazzling.
Sean looked toward the wall behind the desk. The old, patched Sorting Hat was resting on its shelf today.
Beside it, in a glass case, lay a gleaming silver sword with a large ruby set into the hilt.
"Have you been well lately?"
Dumbledore asked with a faint smile, as if making casual conversation.
"Fairly well, Headmaster Dumbledore."
Sean said.
"Not quite that well?"
Dumbledore glanced at Sean's heavy dark circles.
Sean was feeding Mr. Fawkes and did not answer immediately.
Dumbledore's deep eyes watched the young wizard.
"Perhaps the world is not as good as we imagine—but the efforts of certain people make it less terrible than we fear."
His voice was low and drifting. Perhaps it was too soft, because Sean showed no reaction.
"Let us begin our second lesson, Mr. Green."
Dumbledore said lightly. "Today, we will understand how Transfiguration functions."
"How Transfiguration functions—"
Sean immediately stopped feeding Fawkes and repeated the phrase. The sounds at his ear gradually faded.
[You gained Phoenix (Fawkes) affection at Skilled standard. Affection +10]
[Phoenix Fawkes: Slightly Affectionate (Beginner) (109/300)]
"I believe you have already memorized that notebook, so please explain it for me, Mr. Green. When we transform a stone into a blade of grass, what kind of change have we made to the object?"
Dumbledore asked.
"All of it."
Sean said.
"Then from—"
Dumbledore raised his wand. The flames burning in the fireplace hissed and stretched outward, transforming into a fire salamander that darted everywhere—climbing up the bookshelf, crawling along the wall, and finally perching for a while on Dumbledore's hat.
Sean knew Dumbledore was talking about the change from "non-magical" to "magical."
"Most of it."
Sean gave the answer written in Dumbledore's notes, though even now, he did not fully understand it.
"And why is that? What is the difference between them?"
Dumbledore asked.
"No two Transfigurations are completely identical."
Sean answered carefully.
"Excellent."
Dumbledore smiled. "Think about it. When a wizard transforms fire into a fire salamander, what has he added to the flame?"
"The fire salamander's magic, sir."
Sean said.
This was almost a necessary process.
"In magical transfiguration, what is magic, Mr. Green? How does a wizard imagine the magic of a fire salamander?"
Dumbledore immediately asked.
Sean got stuck.
What was magic in magical transfiguration?
Logically speaking, magic itself was something impossible to imagine. It was an abstract concept.
Take basic Transfiguration as an example. In basic Transfiguration, if a wizard wanted to turn a stone into grass, he needed to understand the structure of grass and clearly imagine it. Of course, the same applied to the stone.
But what about magical transfiguration? Could a wizard imagine the internal structure of a fire salamander?
Was it really only a lizard?
Obviously not. Its body contained a magical component.
In the end, wizards would find themselves circling back to the starting point.
Because magic itself was impossible to imagine. It was an abstract concept.
"Magical circuits, sir."
Sean said thoughtfully.
"An absolutely correct answer."
Dumbledore's beard lifted. "The reason no two transformations are identical is that magical circuits are never exactly the same. Perhaps magical circuits are themselves only an artificial construction imagined by wizards, but it cannot be denied that through magical circuits, wizards have achieved magical transfiguration."
Sean sat upright, not daring to lose focus for even a second.
"I hope you remember what I am about to say. Wizards need specificity in order to realize imagination."
Dumbledore said meaningfully.
Many examples immediately surged into Sean's mind.
For example, the Severing Charm taught by the old Hufflepuff senior. How was a wizard supposed to cut space apart?
By finding a road sign, or even a boundary between two patches of grass of different colors.
At the same time, Ravenclaw had taught Sean how a wizard was supposed to summon lightning.
By creating a cloud layer.
Seeing the young wizard's eyes go from confused to clear, Dumbledore laughed softly.
"And so we come to—"
his voice was just loud enough to pull the boy out of his thoughts, "magical circuits, the foundation of all advanced Transfiguration—"
"But, Professor,"
Sean suddenly had a question, "in advanced Transfiguration, there is transformation from the self into another object. Does that also contain a magical component?"
Without a magical component, there would be no magical circuit.
When a wizard transformed himself into something like a sofa—just as Professor Slughorn had done in the original story—did that mean the sofa contained a magical component?
"Oh—"
Dumbledore chuckled. "If you are transforming yourself into a cat, dear Green, do you not count as part of the magic?"
Sean understood immediately.
No wonder he had never succeeded in transforming himself into another existence. He had never understood the magical component of himself.
"Very good. Keep questioning things, Mr. Green."
Dumbledore seemed very pleased. "Now, let us continue discussing magical circuits. How are they composed?
In different forms of magic, what shapes do they take?
And when a wizard performs magical transfiguration, how exactly do they function—"
It was an exceptionally fruitful lesson.
Every lesson Headmaster Dumbledore gave was something Sean had dreamed of.
This knowledge led Sean to knock on the door of a deeper part of magic.
"You told me that magical transfiguration is composed of magical circuits. Destroying the magical circuit can destroy the magical transformation—"
As Sean spoke, he remembered how easily Headmaster Dumbledore had destroyed his Vine-Stone Warden. "Then what lies beneath the circuit, Professor? What is below the circuit?"
Dumbledore was silent for a rare moment.
"No one has thought of it that way, Green. Wizards discovered parts of magical circuits from magical creatures, and from there extended them into magical transfiguration and runic symbols. Wizards of that time believed this was the foundation of magic.
But I think that beneath the circuit, something may indeed exist. If it exists, then that is what we must continue to study—"
December brought strong winds and sleet to Hogwarts.
Although the castle was always drafty in winter, whenever Sean walked into the Great Hall, he was warmed by the several roaring fires and the thick walls.
He thought about magical circuits. About how to perfect them. Sometimes he also needed to think about how to destroy them.
He connected them to more things.
For example, the counter-spell of Transfiguration—the Restoration Charm. Did it change the magic back? Or did it destroy the magical circuit?
What about other counter-spells?
Were they magic cast in reverse, or did they dispel and destroy the existing magic?
As he thought, quarter past noon drew closer and closer.