January dragged on in endless rain and snow.
Sean's days at Hogwarts actually settled into a routine—sothing rare for him.
He was either in Hagrid's hut testing new rituals or deep in the Forbidden Forest practicing transfiguration.
Thanks to his help, Hagrid suddenly had tons of free ti to hit the Three Broomsticks or queue up at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes for the Animal Party series.
Only problem? No matter how early he showed up, he never got one.
Diagon Alley was crawling with "proxy wizards" lately.
Hagrid glared at the sa handful of witches and wizards always at the front of the line and nearly started a brawl.
In the end, the freckle-faced shop manager thanked him with a full set and begged him to stay mad.
Hagrid got all flustered.
"She paid you with a whole series to be her bodyguard?"
Sean asked.
"It ain't bodyguarding… I offered…" Hagrid bood. Then his brain caught up.
"Wait—Sean, if I keep an eye out for you, would you… pay ? In cookies?"
Sean looked at Hagrid and realized the big guy was way sharper than he let on.
"Yeah."
Sean nodded.
Hagrid whipped up a massive batch of rock cakes, hit them with a Softening Charm, and Sean ate until he was stuffed.
"Glad you like 'em… most folks don't get the flavor…"
Hagrid wiped his eye.
Sean nodded, then lifted his hand. Perched there was a little creature made of twiggy limbs.
Tila—the bowtruckle Sean had picked. It loved his pockets and arms.
Since yesterday, it had even followed him out of the forest.
In return, Sean had earmarked his next magical-creature cookie for bowtruckles.
Perfect camouflage. In a pinch, cast a smoke spell, turn into a bowtruckle, and hide in plain sight. Anyone who didn't know about the cookies would never guess.
The ritual, though—that was the snag. He and Professor Tela had brainstord for weeks with no quick answer.
Then he rembered last ti's breakthrough: tweaking Polyjuice. He'd been carrying Advanced Potion-Making everywhere. Inspiration struck.
Another Thursday rolled around at Hogwarts.
The biting cold hadn't let up. The Ravenclaw common room felt heavy.
Their match against Hufflepuff was closing in, but team morale was low.
Sure, they could beat Hufflepuff. Cedric was tough, but Roger was confident he could shut him down.
The real problem? After Hufflepuff ca Gryffindor—and their first-year Seeker, Harry Potter.
He'd caught the Snitch in five minutes flat last match.
"Will he show?"
Roger whispered to Prefect Penelope.
"He will."
Penelope stared out at the soaring eagles, then at the schedule—next Wednesday.
Third-floor corridor.
Sean knocked on the Transfiguration office door with a box of experintal cookies.
"Co in, child."
Professor McGonagall was reading a journal like a newspaper.
A master-level transfiguration expert, she never stopped studying. Thanks to her, Sean had devoured stacks of transfiguration texts.
Every Thursday, she shared the latest draft of Transfiguration Today—cutting-edge research, scholar papers, industry news.
Dumbledore and McGonagall had both published in it.
Bathilda Bagshot, the historian, had once praised a young Dumbledore's paper on cross-species transfiguration.
McGonagall had won Most Promising Newcor.
"Child, are these… kneazle cookies?"
McGonagall smiled warmly.
Sean shook his head.
They were actually his new crup cookies—[Beginner] proficiency.
Good for one full minute.
"Then?"
McGonagall's interest piqued. She always encouraged him.
"Crup."
Sean said softly.
"Crup, hm… crup—?"
McGonagall's voice cracked.
Ten minutes later.
"Transfiguration hasn't seen a breakthrough this big in centuries…"
McGonagall, back in human form, muttered to herself, staring at the dazed Sean. He had no idea what he'd just done.
Pulling magical power straight from a creature? That belonged in the history books.
Wizards had coveted magical creature powers for millennia. All they'd managed was potions with fur, blood, scales…
Did they not want the power?
No. They just couldn't take it.
Creatures had existed almost as long as magic. So could sense danger, command storms, rise from ashes…
Jealous wizards tried everything. Failed.
Why did Polyjuice specify "human only"? Because the original goal was creature transformation. It never worked.
"Don't tell a soul, child."
McGonagall heard her own heartbeat. She was dead serious.
Sean hesitated.
"Professor Tela knows…"
"She doesn't know the half of it, silly boy."
McGonagall said quietly, then strode out of the office stone-faced.
One cookie proved this boy's genius. She was certain he'd surpass her—maybe even Albus.
Talent like that couldn't be wasted on those crackpot alchemists.
Headmaster's office. The stone gargoyle leapt aside on its own.
"Albus—"
McGonagall burst in, urgent.
"Look at this—"
Sean stood alone outside the Transfiguration office. Her reaction had been way bigger than he expected.
His palm felt hot. He looked down—the International Alchemy Conference invitation had slipped from his bag into his hand:
[What awaits us on this land of magic…
Wind sweeps snowfields and deserts,
Ancient rune banners snap atop mountains,
Every curve of the runes hides untold legends.
So are lost in deep woods,
So reborn in fire,
And we—
Where shall we carve our inscription?
The International Alchemy Conference, three natural months from now,
Awaits—
The arrival of legend.
read more inpat***
ilham20
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