After Headmaster Dumbledore left, Hogwarts Castle remained as peaceful as ever.
Sean spent most of his time practicing Transfiguration alone in the cottage. Since the Christmas holidays, his advanced Transfiguration—the part involving "self" into "object"—had already reached the Master training standard.
[You practiced Soul Transfiguration once at Master standard. Proficiency level +300]
[Transfiguration Categories:
Magical Transfiguration: Expert (14500/30000)
Material Transfiguration: Expert (1300/30000)
Soul Transfiguration: Master (1250/3000000)]
But compared to the three-million proficiency requirement, Sean felt as if this were a drop in the bucket.
Each time he cast Soul Transfiguration, he could gain three hundred proficiency points. In other words, after ten thousand uses, he could reach Legendary.
Even though he had partially understood the mysteries of magical circuits, Master-level Soul Transfiguration was still not something he could cast freely.
At the extreme speed of ten practice attempts per day, he would only need one thousand days to push Soul Transfiguration to Legendary.
That was three years.
Three years and another three years—by then, he would already be Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Sean thought this for no reason.
Unless—
He recalled his experience in the Borderland.
So, entering the Borderland again, finding Teacher Ravenclaw, and understanding why his Soul Transfiguration progress had surged became the most important thing to him.
As he thought about this, another name surfaced in his mind.
Gryffindor.
That made him feel slightly strange.
He was certain he had met Gryffindor—Teacher. Wait—why was he calling him Teacher?
There were many strange things, but he guessed Teacher Ravenclaw would clear up his confusion, so he did not dwell on it.
On the panel, aside from Soul Transfiguration having reached Expert—no, Master—Material Transfiguration and Magical Transfiguration were still far behind.
Fortunately, Headmaster Dumbledore had not deceived him. Ever since returning from the Borderland, he could easily cast Transfiguration at "Master" training standard.
This greatly excited him.
Because it meant that in just two months, he could push Material Transfiguration and Magical Transfiguration to Master together.
On that foundation, if he then pushed Soul Transfiguration to Legendary, Legendary-level Transfiguration would be beckoning to him.
And what kind of magical ability would a Legendary-level title bring?
Would it push his talent to Legendary?
Sean did not know, but he was full of motivation.
Buzz—
The magic hand mirror vibrated. Sean looked over. It was an invitation from Professor Slughorn.
[Slug Club]
[My lovely children, the Christmas holidays are about to end, so our gathering will be set on the final day of this festive season.]
A gathering—
Sean put away the magic hand mirror.
Professor Slughorn's message reminded Sean of the two crystal bottles and the Pensieve Headmaster Dumbledore had given him before leaving.
He had said they contained three of the most important parts: Professor Slughorn, Voldemort, and—himself.
Without hesitation, accompanied by the morning bells, Sean poured the contents of the first crystal bottle into the Pensieve.
The cottage was quiet. Only the steady breathing of the seemingly sleeping young wizard could be heard.
Sean felt himself falling, falling endlessly, until finally he landed in the middle of a vast battlefield.
Mist and lightning divided the sky between them.
Atop a towering giant, amid lightning and thunder, a black cat's fur danced wildly in the wind and rain.
"In the Borderland, if you believe you can raise a great wave, then you can become the storm!"
Its murmur was so clear that Sean could hear every word.
This was truly a marvelous feeling. He was actually watching himself in the Borderland.
Only then did he finally understand where the sudden addition on his panel had come from.
[Special Legendary Transfiguration:
Storm Warden: ? (110/?)]
So that was the reason?
The power Headmaster Dumbledore had told him to use cautiously.
Cautiously—
Sean returned from that distant memory.
His gaze flickered.
Next was Professor Slughorn.
He poured the contents of the second crystal bottle into the Pensieve.
This time, he noticed the contents were not easy to pour into the Pensieve. It seemed slightly congealed. Could memories go bad too?
Once again, Sean felt himself falling through that silver surface. This time, he landed in front of someone and immediately recognized him.
It was a much younger Horace Slughorn.
Having grown used to his bald head, Sean's lips curved slightly when he suddenly saw Slughorn with thick, glossy yellow hair.
The much younger professor's beard was not yet as full as it was now. It was ginger-colored, and his body was not as round as the Slughorn Sean knew, though the golden buttons on his embroidered waistcoat were already strained rather tight.
His small feet rested on a large velvet cushion. He reclined in a comfortable wing-backed armchair, holding a small glass of wine in one hand while the other picked through a box of crystallized pineapple.
Six or seven boys sat around Slughorn. They were all fifteen or sixteen, and their chairs were harder or lower than his.
Sean immediately recognized Riddle.
He looked the most relaxed, his right hand resting casually on the arm of his chair.
"Sir, is Professor Merrythought retiring?"
Riddle asked.
"Tom, Tom, even if I knew, I couldn't tell you."
Slughorn wagged a sugar-frosted finger at him reprovingly, though his wink ruined the effect slightly.
"I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, my boy. You know more than half the staff."
Riddle smiled faintly. The other boys laughed too, casting admiring looks at him.
"You clever little devil, knowing things you shouldn't, and so careful to flatter important people—by the way, thank you for the pineapple. You guessed right. It is my favorite—"
As several boys chuckled, something strange happened.
The entire room was suddenly shrouded in white mist. Sean could see neither Slughorn nor Riddle.
He frowned.
At the same time, in a place he did not notice, the Void Talisman began to float.
White mist seeped out from the cracks in the stone tablet.
They quietly entered the room, and the thick fog fled into the distance as if it had encountered its natural enemy.
Only then did Sean sense something strange. Why was the mist dispersing?
He lowered his head, but saw nothing.
The white mist had vanished at some unknown moment, as though it had never existed.
And the fog spread again.
Slughorn's voice rang through the room, unnaturally loud:
"You'll make mistakes, my boy. Mark my words."
After Slughorn finished speaking, the fog finally dispersed, as suddenly as it had arrived. But no one mentioned it, and nothing in their faces showed that anything unusual had just happened.
Sean looked around. The little golden clock on Slughorn's desk struck eleven.
"Good heavens, is it that time already?"
Slughorn said.
"Off you go, boys, or we'll be in trouble. Lestrange, your essay tomorrow, or it's detention.
"You too, Avery."
Slughorn hauled himself out of his chair and carried his empty glass to the desk. The boys filed out.
But Riddle lingered behind. Sean could tell he was deliberately dawdling, hoping to remain alone in the room with Slughorn.
"Quickly, Tom,"
Slughorn said when he turned and found Riddle still there.
"You don't want to be caught out after lights-out, do you? You're a prefect—"
"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."
"Then ask quickly, my boy, quickly—"
"Sir, I wanted to ask whether you know about—Horcruxes."
Again: the room filled with thick fog. Sean could see neither Slughorn nor Riddle.
He knew this was Professor Slughorn's modified memory.
So he naturally left the memory.
He let Slughorn's voice ring loudly through it once more.
"I know nothing about Horcruxes, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you! Get out at once, and don't let me hear you mention this again!"
By the time he escaped the Pensieve, time had already been pushed into the afternoon.
Sean's expression turned bitter.
He had missed lunch.
Fortunately, he knew where the kitchens were, and he even ran into Justin there.
"Good afternoon, Sean."
Justin's eyes curved in a smile.
"Good afternoon."
Sean focused on searching for food.
"Thank you for the cream cake, cheese biscuits, and tomato soup, Ira. And thank you for the cocktail shrimp, steak with baked potatoes, chips with peas, sprouts, and mushrooms, Ava."
"It is Ira's honor to serve great Mr. Green!"
The house-elf in ragged clothing immediately stood ramrod straight.
"Oh, Mr. Green remembers Ira's name—"
she added in a thin little voice.
Then she and her companion watched as the young wizard stuffed his cheeks full, eating with such happiness that he even forgot his manners.
"Lord Cadogan said, if there is anyone else who can become a noble knight, it is little—Lord Green—"
Ira was still whispering to herself. The moment Sir Cadogan was mentioned, her eyes sparkled.
"Ira—it is Headmaster Green—"
Ava tugged at a corner of her robe, her face flushed as she added.
"It is Headmaster Green—"
Soon, a pile of house-elves had gathered together.
Justin watched this scene quietly, watching the young wizard surrounded by them yet completely unaware.
He smiled brilliantly.
The abundance of food in the kitchen exceeded Sean's imagination. While enjoying it, he noticed something special, a tart-like thing.
A spiced wine tart, a food popular in thirteenth-century Europe.
Sean, who could just barely be called knowledgeable, could even recite its recipe:
four eggs and two extra egg yolks, one pint of wine, two ounces of white sugar, one teaspoon of cinnamon powder, one teaspoon of ground cloves, half a teaspoon of saffron threads, half a teaspoon of mace powder, a quarter teaspoon of galangal powder, a pinch of ginger, a pinch of cinnamon, one teaspoon of nutmeg—
Among these seasonings, the most interesting part was the wine.
Because the alcohol content varied, in some thirteenth-century records, spiced wine tarts could even make people drunker than ordinary wine.
Sean, holding to the principle of never wasting food, ate an entire plate.
Justin in front of him became three people.
"Justin, where did you learn a duplication charm? Can I learn it?"
Sean asked instinctively.
"Sean?"
Justin realized something was wrong and hurried forward.
"There are more of you. Your magic has advanced, Justin."
Sean carefully studied Justin and reached a conclusion.
"Oh—"
Justin seemed to laugh helplessly.
"Yes. When you're sober, I'll share it with you."
"That's wonderful."
Sean's joy was written all over his face.
"Now you need to go rest, Sean."
Justin said.
His eight heads kept swaying in front of Sean.
"You've improved so quickly."
Sean sighed in admiration.
"But I still need to attend the gathering."
"You want to go?"
Justin seemed very surprised.
"Mm."
Sean nodded.
Justin fell into thought.
The afternoon gathering began quickly.
"Sean, my boy!"
The moment Professor Slughorn saw Sean, he jumped up. His large belly in velvet nearly filled the chair.
His shining bald head and great silver-white walrus mustache glittered in the sunlight just like the golden buttons on his waistcoat.
"How wonderful to see you, wonderful to see you! Then you must be Mr. Finch-Fletchley! Ah, and Harry, Hermione, and my dear Mr. Longbottom."
Neville nodded, looking rather terrified.
Harry and Hermione, however, had grown accustomed to Professor Slughorn's enthusiasm.
Slughorn made a gesture, and the group sat together in a cluster in the Great Hall.
"Sean, your face is a little—red?"
Hermione sat close beside Sean and looked suspiciously at Justin.
Justin was smiling and made a shushing gesture.
Sean felt he must have practiced magic for too long, because his head felt muddled. So although he appeared to be present, in truth he had already drifted off in a daze.
It wasn't until the gathering was almost over that Sean remembered what he had come to do.
"Professor Slughorn, may I ask you to stay for a moment?"
Before they dispersed, Sean found Professor Slughorn.
Justin hurriedly pulled Hermione aside to hide nearby.
"Oh!"
Professor Slughorn was delighted, and his ivory-colored mustache nearly curled up to the sky.
He immediately sent off the other young wizards and pulled Sean to a quiet corner.
"What would you like to talk to me about, my good boy? I could chat with you all day."
Professor Slughorn said kindly.
"As for your progress in Potions, I've heard that Professor Snape is studying a new theory. Once he is willing to share it, I would be very happy to discuss it with you. Learning more about cutting-edge magic is what matters for young people like you—"
Professor Slughorn's eyes shone with both friendliness and shrewdness.
"That isn't it, Professor."
Sean said, staring at Professor Slughorn with emerald eyes.
That made him sense something was not quite right.
"It is about—Voldemort's Horcruxes."
Sean said.
Justin and Hermione, who were hiding nearby, widened their eyes at the same time.