Chapter 86: Rest and Neville
Great Hall.
The salamander suddenly shot into the air, spinning wildly, showering sparks and letting off loud bangs. Percy Weasley, his voice hoarse, was furiously berating Fred and George. Orange stars erupted from the salamander's mouth in a spectacular, if unintended, display before it dove back into the hearth fire with a final series of explosions. The chaotic scene only added to Sean's already cheerful and relaxed mood.
He had decided to take a day off for himself. Professor McGonagall had insisted, warning him sternly that pushing his magical abilities too hard, too fast, could be counterproductive. She had ordered him to get a proper night's sleep, relax his mind, and remember the importance of balance.
Near the entrance of the Great Hall, two pairs of eyes watched Sean intently.
"Justin, are you sure this will work?" Hermione asked, peering over the mountain of books stacked in front of her.
"Of course! Didn't you hear what Sir Cadogan said? He wears the Knightly Order of King Arthur! Knights never lie," Justin replied confidently, striding towards Sean's table.
Under the enchanted ceiling (currently depicting a cloudy grey afternoon sky), the four long house tables were laden with breakfast: bowls of porridge, platters of kippers, mountains of sausages, and dishes of pudding.
Hermione and Justin sat down next to Sean. Hermione propped her copy of Intermediate Transfiguration open against a milk jug.
"Um, Sean," Justin began, looking slightly sheepish, "about the weekend… I was wondering if I could maybe get a little help…"
Sean, currently contemplating the precise definition of 'maintaining excellent academic standing,' nodded absently.
"I need the History of Magic notes…"
"Just finished adding the section on Arthurian legends. This week's homework starts on page sixty-five," Sean replied automatically.
"And Herbology… and Astronomy… and Potions…"
"Mm-hmm. But you'll need to practice the techniques yourself. The detailed procedures are in there."
"Oh—and I forgot, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms too, I…"
Sean paused, giving Justin a weary look. "Hermione has the Charms notes. You have the Defence notes."
"You were too obvious! He caught on!" Hermione hissed, blushing.
"Doesn't matter, Hermione," Justin beamed, completely unrepentant. "You and I both know, without his notes, Sean has to rest."
At a nearby table, Michael's eyes widened. He immediately started shaking Anthony. "See? See? That's what a real friend is! A friend who saves you from homework death! Honestly! Can't you two be a bit more useful?"
Amidst the general hubbub, Neville Longbottom sat alone at the edge of the Gryffindor table, picking listlessly at his toast, occasionally glancing nervously at the noisy crowd before lowering his head again. Michael suddenly threw an arm around his shoulders.
"Oi, Neville! I sacrificed a whole week's worth of pudding for you! Did you even make it to the secret spot?"
Neville flinched, remembering Sean always concluded his tutoring sessions in the second corridor. He'd never actually seen the hidden room. His breath hitched, and his lips trembled. "N-no…"
"Merlin's underpants!" Michael stared, aghast.
Evening.
Darkness crept in from the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Sean walked slowly down a quiet corridor, holding a magical lantern that illuminated the flagstones beneath his feet. Before the invention of Lumos, wizards relied on such lanterns. Sean could sense the complex charm-work within – a different combination of illumination spells, seemingly more powerful but also more draining than a simple Wand-Lighting Charm. If Lumos had a brightness scale of 1 to 7, the lantern started at 3 and probably went past 20. It felt older, perhaps utilizing runic magic.
There was a persistent rumour in the wizarding world: older magic was stronger. Not necessarily more refined, but certainly more potent, more raw. Spells like Alohomora or even simple household charms possessed surprising force, often dangerously misused by students in duels. Ancient spells also took significantly longer to cast. Records from international dueling competitions mentioned wizards attempting lengthy, powerful incantations (like conjuring a mountain to crush their opponent), only to be swiftly disarmed before they could finish.
Modern magic was the result of centuries of streamlining – faster to cast, but often weaker, its original purpose sometimes obscured. The Severing Charm (Diffindo), for example, was historically used for executions.
For Sean, however, standard spells would eventually become insufficient as his proficiency grew. He understood now why so many powerful wizards eventually turned to the study of runes and ancient magic – they hit a ceiling with modern spellcraft.
Deep contemplation of magical theory had become second nature to Sean, a form of relaxation in itself. He pulled out Dumbledore's letter, rereading the conditions for staying at Hogwarts over the summer, when he noticed a figure hovering uncertainly at the top of a nearby staircase, trying to shrink into the shadows.
"Sean—" Neville called out, his voice barely a whisper, summoning all his courage.
Sean paused. As he turned, Neville quickly looked away, pretending he hadn't spoken. From the doorway of the hidden room, Justin stifled a laugh. Inside, Hermione was practicing the Levitation Charm. Her desk was buried under notes and library books, new additions constantly piling on top of the old. Sean's own desk was neater, containing only essential texts he hadn't fully internalized, plus the occasional, mysteriously appearing sweet treat.
"Excellent academic standing clearly includes both theory and practice, with practical skill being the ultimate measure..." his Quick-Quotes Quill scribbled in his notebook. "A wizard's practical proficiency is best demonstrated through Charms and Transfiguration, though Potions could also qualify..."
Dumbledore's requirements aligned perfectly with Sean's own goals. He was already working to improve his practical skills, partly to defend himself against potential threats within Hogwarts (trolls, prejudiced pure-bloods, etc.).
He continued outlining his plan for the coming week, then walked over to Neville.
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