"You're saying you're not interested in Quidditch?"
Prefect Penelope looked puzzled, her confusion giving way to earnest sincerity. "May I ask why? You know, Mr. Green, you're incredibly talented. It'd be a sha if you didn't join the Quidditch team."
Sean thought for a mont, then waved his wand. The flas in a nearby jar flickered and transford into a fiery salamander. It darted across the ground, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. With a sudden burst, it swelled several tis its size before dissolving back into a fla that returned to the jar.
The astonishing display drew gasps of "rlin's beard!" from everyone around. Penelope stood frozen, wide-eyed.
This was advanced Transfiguration, a skill she was only just beginning to grasp, and yet this young wizard had cast it so effortlessly.
He didn't even seem to be trying that hard.
"I'd heard this year's Ravenclaw nad Green was exceptional, but this good?" Toya stamred.
"Am I even studying the sa Transfiguration as him? Why bother?" a blond Ravenclaw muttered beside him.
"Foolish little wizards!"
Mr. Owl, the enchanted portrait, puffed up with pride, folding its wings elegantly.
Faced with Mr. Owl's mockery, the Ravenclaws hung their heads, wondering if they really were as foolish as he implied.
Sean nodded politely to them. "Thanks for the invitation, but I'd rather focus my ti on Transfiguration."
With that, he stepped past the frowning, tight-lipped prefect.
Penelope sighed in frustration, shooting a glare at the quivering Ravenclaws—especially at Roger, who she deed particularly foolish.
If they'd approached Sean earlier, before he fell in love with Transfiguration, could they have gotten him hooked on Quidditch? Even just a little? After all, passion can grow over ti.
Imagine him soaring on a broom, scoring with flair, basking in the crowd's cheers and admiration…
"Roger!" she snapped, barely containing her anger. "You'd better lead the team to win the Quidditch Cup this year! I'll figure out another way."
"Yes, ma'am!" Roger straightened up.
Mr. Owl let out a loud huff and vanished into the wall.
Penelope was in a foul mood, but a figure in the distance caught her eye, lifting her spirits.
Farther down, near a wall lit by burning torches, Minerva McGonagall stood watching the young wizard's retreating figure. In her hand was a letter dusted with snowflakes, lting into cold droplets that left a burning mark on her heart.
"Gather so information for ," she whispered to the Ravenclaws behind her, as if recalling a rumor. "About Sean and Professor McGonagall…"
---
In that sa corridor, the Ravenclaws weren't the only ones heartbroken.
"Harry, do we even have a chance?" Ron tried to force a smile, but it looked more like a grimace.
"…Maybe?" Harry's voice wavered.
Every first-year admired Sean Green, and not just because of the legendary Green Notes.
Sean knew everything and was willing to share. Even Slytherins didn't speak ill of him.
When older students showed off their magic, first-years used to watch in awe, but now they could say:
"Transfiguration? Pfft—I know Sean Green can turn a desk into a pig!"
"If you can cast a silent spell, you're barely catching up to what Sean did in a month."
Sean Green was the pride of the first-years.
Even Professor Flitwick had said, "Remarkable, children! You're the fastest-improving first-years in Charms I've ever seen!"
Sure, it was thanks to the Green Notes, but that didn't stop the first-years from puffing out their chests.
Joining Sean's secret group had beco an obsession for Harry and Ron, especially when they were around Neville, who made them feel like outsiders.
Their moods had been sour ever since.
In a corner, Justin had been laughing for three days straight, and even Hermione wore an odd expression.
What were those two even thinking? Did they really believe Sean cared about Quidditch?
It was a snowy Thursday, with delicate flakes drifting onto the windows, catching the curious eyes of so first-years as they ford thin layers of ice.
Sean, as usual, was in a rush. After diving deep into his notes and so alchemy books, he'd found the answer he was looking for.
The answer lay in Potions and Alchemy.
[The first step in alchemy is dissolution, often called the black stage. In this initial phase, impure tals, raw materials, or outdated states of being are broken down, rged into the primal substance of creation, ready to be reshaped and reborn in a new form. At this stage, a strong will to embrace alchemy's profound changes is crucial, further distinguishing beginner alchemists.]
It sounded familiar.
Sean pulled out Advanced Potion-Making.
[The fusion of potions is considered one of the most profound transformations. Impure substances, potion ingredients, or outdated states of being are broken down, rged into the primal substance of creation, ready to be reshaped and reborn in a new form.]
Sean wasn't sure who was borrowing from whom, but the passage revealed a truth: Potions and Alchemy were deeply connected.
Both involved the transformation of matter.
Unlocking the Skilled Potions Title was an obvious next step.
On his way to the dungeons, he opened his panel:
[Title: Potions Novice]
[Greatly enhances potion perception, slightly boosts potion talent]
Potions Novice was an entry-level title. To reach Skilled, he needed:
[Advanced: Three Skilled-level potions and three Beginner-level potions to unlock the Skilled Potions Title]
[Sore-Cure Potion: Skilled Level (210/900)]
[Anti-Swelling Solution: Beginner Level (220/300)]
[Swelling Solution: Beginner Level (210/300)]
Sean's progress wasn't bad. Potions took ti to brew and were resource-heavy, but their proficiency requirents were relatively low.
This gave him hope of grinding to the Skilled Title soon.
The dungeon's chill carried snowflakes on the wind. Ever since the troll incident, Snape had been restless.
One mont, he'd stare into Sean's green eyes; the next, he'd show flickers of deep pain and anger.
"You'd better learn this in an hour, Sean Green!" he barked. "Do you think you have all the ti in the world?!"
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