Chapter 154: The Letter from London
The December chill always drove wizards closer to the fire.
Sean sat at a table near the library's large hearth. He methodically packed away his books and, before Madam Pince could shoo him out with her feather duster, filled out the borrowing forms.
With a casual flick of his wand, Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms, The Detailed Guide to Elder Futhark, and Annotations on Anglo-Saxon Futhorc stacked themselves neatly and followed him out. Before leaving, he tidied the shelves in his section—a small help in Madam Pince's endless task.
The library was vast, with thousands of shelves and hundreds of aisles. Without magic, even the formidable Madam Pince couldn't manage it alone. The eight o'clock closing time suddenly made a lot of sense.
"Goodnight, Madam Pince."
A small notebook floated above the stack of books obscuring Sean's head. He had a habit of jotting down obscure details from magical history, details that often revealed hidden truths when connected.
For example:
Alberta Toothill was a witch who, in 1430 at the age of 39, won the All-England Wizarding Dueling Competition by defeating the favorite, Samson Wiblin, with a Blasting Curse.
A little context revealed that before Toothill, duelists favoured powerful, complex spells with long casting times—like conjuring a mountain. It was during her era, and that of another wizard famous for his Disarming Charm, that the magical community realized the potency of simple, rapid-fire spells, leading directly to the development of modern standard charms.
Madam Pince enjoyed these insights. Her own vast knowledge allowed her to make fascinating connections of her own. In return, she often reserved a coveted spot near the fire for Sean, a place other students dared not approach. At Hallowe'en, she had gifted him a beautifully bound copy of A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry, filled with her own annotations.
Sean and Madam Pince were like pen pals who rarely spoke, communicating instead through copious notes in the margins of history books.
Sean flew back to Ravenclaw Tower on his broom, his scarf trailing in the wind. As he landed on the roof, the castle was deep in slumber. A magical lantern always glowed in the window of the Ravenclaw common room, lit just for him.
"Wicked," Michael breathed, bringing the lantern inside, his envy palpable. He had recently noticed Sean's broom was a Nimbus 2000. Though Sean let him examine it, Michael just laughed it off. "Oh, Sean, not many people know about this, but I do. It's important. It should only be flown by you."
The snow was falling heavily tonight, blanketing the castle in silence. Sean set down his frustrating runic array book next to a batch of biscuits. Inscribed with runes for Advanced Transfiguration, they were his failed attempts at creating an edible transformation item.
"Biscuits?" Michael drifted over from another table. "Sean, I'm surprised you didn't offer to share. I'm hurt."
Sean shrugged. Michael took a biscuit and ate it. Moments later, he sprouted wings and a beak, his face covered in feathers. Just as Anthony entered the room, he and Sean had to physically restrain Michael from flying out the window.
Sean panted, jotting down a note on a piece of parchment:
Failed Owl Biscuit:
Cause: Error in runic array.
Effect: Partial owl transformation, partial loss of sanity.
"Heeeelp meeee!" Michael squawked, his head still hanging out the window.
"Stop screaming. And have another one, if you survive this," Anthony said calmly, holding Michael's right arm while Sean held the left.
"Why?" This effectively silenced Michael. They hauled him back inside.
"Elladora Ketteridge was the first witch to discover the properties of Gillyweed, earning her a Chocolate Frog card... Maybe you can be the first wizard to die of stupidity while partially transformed into an owl. I'll buy your card," Anthony deadpanned. He then whispered to Sean, "I don't know what these are, Sean, but failure can be fun too. Like joke shop sweets."
Sean considered this as Michael chased Anthony out of the room, face red with embarrassment. Peace restored, Sean returned to his Owl Biscuits. His failure lay in his incomplete understanding of runes. He could sense the flaw in the magical flow but didn't know how to fix it. He noted the problem to ask Professor Terra on Monday.
Late that night, a weary owl arrived from far away, crashing into Sean's window with a loud thud.
Sean hurriedly brought it inside. It was a handsome bird with silver-white feathers, now dusted with snow. Sean lit a fire with his wand, summoning two fire salamanders to keep the bird warm.
As the snow melted, Sean unpacked the parcel the owl had carried. Inside was an incredibly thick, patched, and re-patched coat. It looked like it had been sewn over multiple times.
Sean's breath hitched. He thought of the kind old woman, Milan Taylor. But search as he might, there was only the coat. Finally, tucked into the hem of a sleeve, he found a five-pound note and a letter.
Whether your great moment comes or not, child, you once said you could survive on five pounds. Keep this. May you always have the courage of five pounds.
On the back of the letter was the return address: a street in London, near the orphanage where uncollected rubbish bags still piled up.
A woman with rough, weathered skin sat by a window in that London street, her brow furrowing and smoothing in turn. Orphanage children were used to being discarded, but that didn't mean they didn't feel pain.
"For God's sake..." she murmured to herself.
Back in Ravenclaw Tower, the owl seemed quite taken with Sean, playing happily with the fire salamanders.
Sean knew he was in for a lecture from the owl portrait tomorrow. He could already hear it:
"Forbidden! You! Shall not pass! Unfaithful little wizard!"
Outside, the wind howled from the direction of London, but hope, like the seeds buried under the snow in the greenhouse, was growing wild and strong.
(End of Chapter)
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