Chapter 246: The Refinement of Magic
"The Great Green!"
Before they even entered the crooked house, the Weasley twins popped their heads out of a window.
Sean looked up but saw no one, only hearing a thud-thud-thud sound—the twins had already bounded down the stairs.
"Before our guest enters, you had better clean up that swamp of yours!" Mrs. Weasley roared.
When she turned around, she became kind and amiable once more.
"I wasn't talking to you, dear. I know you're an alchemy genius; feel free to do whatever you like."
The twins looked at each other, shrugged, and spread their hands as if this was nothing unusual.
"What are you waiting for! No more messing about with those annoying things inside the house—go to your father's pond!" Mrs. Weasley yelled at the twins again.
"You can do whatever you like, Mr. Green, just don't follow Fred and George," Mrs. Weasley said, turning back with yet another tone of voice.
"Remember? Mum always favors outsiders. Your sweater is much nicer than ours," Fred said before sprinting away.
Mrs. Weasley chased after him angrily, brandishing a feather duster.
So, blinking innocently, George led Sean into The Burrow.
What met his eyes was a cramped yet orderly kitchen and living room. They were connected, separated only by a fireplace in the middle.
The kitchen was small and rather crowded, with a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the center. There was a clock on the wall with only one hand and no numbers. Instead, written around the edge were things like Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, and You're late.
Photos were stuck to the hand—moving close-up shots of Ron and the others.
Fred and George's close-ups were stuck together, and in the photos, they would turn their heads as the hand moved.
"It's a bit shabby, but it's home," Fred said, running back from a distance and speaking to Sean against the clock.
Mrs. Weasley smacked his bottom with the feather duster, and he yelped before fleeing upstairs.
"He's dead meat. There's a swamp upstairs," George quipped.
Sure enough, Fred's cry for help followed.
"Mum, would you mind pulling me out? Oh, Mum—don't go... alright, hello—is anyone there—"
Mrs. Weasley came downstairs looking satisfied, only to see Sean observing the self-knitting needles and the dishes washing themselves in the sink.
"Those are just little spells..." Mrs. Weasley said somewhat bashfully.
"I think they're brilliant," Sean said, his eyes fixed on them.
He knew he couldn't do this yet. It required a level of magical control that he currently seemed to lack.
"May I learn, Mrs. Weasley?" Sean made his request. This was one of the reasons he had come here.
Fred and George had told him more than once that this kind of control required practice, and their mother happened to be a master at it.
"What is there to learn... but of course you can, dear." Mrs. Weasley blushed slightly.
"...Mum, have you seen my socks?"
A familiar voice came from the other staircase as Ron walked down.
Upon seeing Sean, his eyes went wide.
"Sean—!"
"I knew you'd know him. Come down and welcome our guest, Ron," Mrs. Weasley said.
"More than just know him..." Ron muttered to himself.
"Hmm?" Mrs. Weasley frowned.
"I mean..." Ron shrank back. What should he say?
That Sean was the head of their Round Table Council? Or that Sean led them to guard the Forbidden Forest and charged alone into the final chamber to foil the Dark Lord's plot?
Mum wouldn't believe it anyway.
"I mean... Sean is first in the year, got full marks in every subject, is the Ravenclaw Seeker, and led Ravenclaw to win both the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup."
Ron couldn't believe how smoothly the words came out.
"Oh! Oh! Good heavens, what an outstanding child!" Mrs. Weasley looked at Sean as if his small figure were glowing.
"And you, Ron?" Mrs. Weasley turned on him.
"I was only eighth," Ron whispered.
"Merlin's beard! That's wonderful! Children, come here!"
Then, without another word, Sean and Ron were pulled into her embrace.
"We must celebrate properly!" she declared.
Night fell quickly. Sean followed Mrs. Weasley around as she thoughtfully guided him step-by-step in using household magic.
Ultimately, this was a form of Transfiguration—making objects animate themselves.
But it was more complex because the commands given to the objects were more intricate and subtle.
Until late at night, Sean heard his panel chiming constantly:
[You have practiced an Advanced Transfiguration to the Adept standard. Proficiency +30]
[You have practiced an Advanced Transfiguration to the Adept standard. Proficiency +30]
...
To Sean's surprise, this classified as Advanced Transfiguration—specifically, Object-to-Magic Advanced Transfiguration.
Before dinner, Sean was shown to his room—a spacious one, which was surprising in such a cramped house.
His luggage had already been placed in the room by the enthusiastic Mrs. Weasley. When he entered, he saw a refreshing blend of sky blue and bronze.
The worn walls were lined with many books, and a window stood wide open right next to the bed.
It wasn't hard to imagine how brilliantly the sun would shine in during the day.
There was also a private desk, and even a small area protected by defensive enchantments.
Mrs. Weasley seemed to have started preparing long ago; everything he needed was there.
Here, Sean would learn the refinement of magic and unlock the Expert Alchemist title.
He opened his panel:
[Six Expert-level Intermediate Alchemical Creations, twelve Adept-level Alchemical Creations required to unlock the Expert title in the Alchemy field.]
[Intermediate Cleaning Broom: Adept (1210/3000)]
[Intermediate Leisure Broom: Expert (120/9000)]
[Intermediate Weird Wizard's Chess: Expert (120/9000)]
...
He only had the Cleaning Broom left—the final Intermediate Alchemical Creation. Expert Alchemy was waiting for him.
Knock, knock, knock—
A knock came from the door.
"The Great Green—" Fred called out.
"To Diagon Alley—" George added.
"We need to restock the shop," the twins said in unison.
Sean opened the door to find them in high spirits.
"We've waited too long for this day! Time is tight!" Fred gestured for Sean to lead the way.
"There's so much waiting for us to do—and can you believe it? We only have a week!" George eagerly led the way.
"With enough stock, we'll be the best joke shop in Britain!"
☆☆☆
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