"That's right," Stan said, still rubbing his chest where the bed had slamd
into him. "Right you are. They say he was thick with You-Know-Who... anyway,
little Harry Potter did for You-Know-Who in the end, didn't he?"
Harry nervously flattened his bangs, trying to hide the lightning-bolt scar that
made him famous. Instinctually, he searched for sothing—soone—who could offer a sense of security. As if by fate, the most reassuring wizard he knew was sitting right in front of him.
Sean looked up quietly, his eyes drifting from Harry to Stan's back, then back
to Harry.
Stan, oblivious to the legendary company he was keeping, continued his tale:
"All of You-Know-Who's supporters were rounded up, right, Ern? Once You-Know-Who vanished, most of 'em knew the ga was up and went quiet. All except Sirius Black. I heard he thought he'd be second-in-command once You-Know-Who rose again. Anyway, they cornered Black in a street full of Muggles. Black pulled out his wand and blasted half the street to bits. Hit one wizard and a dozen Muggles who just happened to be standing there. Terrible, innit? And d'you know whatBlack did then?"
Stan lowered his voice to a conspiratorial, exaggerated whisper.
"What?" Harry asked, hanging on every word.
"Laughed," Stan said. "Just stood there and laughed his head off. When the
Ministry reinforcents arrived, he went along with 'em quiet as a lamb, still
laughing like a maniac. Must've been barking mad. Right, Ern? Mad as a hatter?"
"If he wasn't mad when he went to Azkaban, he certainly is now," Ernie said in
his low, gravelly voice. "I'd sooner blow myself up than set foot in that place.
It's a fit punishnt, though... after what he did..."
"Took 'em ages to smooth it over, didn't it, Ern?" Stan added. "The street blown
up, all those Muggles gone. How'd they explain it, Ern?"
"Gas explosion," Ernie grunted.
"And now he's out again," Stan said, peering intently at the gaunt, sunken face
on the front page. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, has there, Ern? Don't see how he did it. Scares the life out of , thinking he could get past those Azkaban guards. Right, Ern?"
Harry and Sean had both noticed Stan's peculiar habit—he couldn't finish a
sentence without checking in with Ernie, as if his words lacked any weight
without Ernie's silent approval. But Stan's words were terrifying enough on
their own. Even Ernie seed to shiver.
"Talk about summat else, Stan," Ernie growled. "There's two respectable lads
here. Just thinking about them Azkaban guards gives the collywobbles."
Reluctantly, Stan tucked the paper away.
Harry leaned against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than he ever
had in his life. He knew next to nothing about wizarding prisons, but the way
everyone spoke of them—with that sa bone-deep dread—told him everything he needed to know.
The Knight Bus rattled through the darkness, bushes and trash cans leaping out of its way, telephone booths and trees dodging its erratic path. Harry lay back on the feather mattress, his mind a whirlpool of anxiety.
"Sean," Harry whispered, leaning across the gap between the beds toward the
older boy. "The Ministry... they'll catch Black, won't they?"
Sean looked up from his book, his expression thoughtful. "They will certainly
try," he said softly.
"But what if they don't?" Harry persisted. "What will Black do?"
Sean didn't answer with words. He simply looked at Harry, his erald eyes
bright and steady. In that gaze, Harry felt a strange sense of understanding
pass between them.
"Excuse , ma'am? Could I swap beds with you?" Harry asked a freckled witch whose bed sat directly between him and Sean.
The witch grumbled under her breath but moved her things. Only when Harry was closer to Sean did his racing heart begin to steady.
Now that he was sitting right next to him, Harry could finally see what Sean was
writing with his eagle-feather quill.
On the neat parchnt was a diagram of a wizard holding a wand, the tip erupting
in a flash of light so intense it rivaled the Knight Bus's own high-beams. Below
the drawing were Sean's trademark "Green's Notes" breakdowns—precise hand movents and phonetic deconstructions.
But these weren't like any incantations Harry had ever seen.
"What spell is that... it looks like the Wand-Lighting Charm, Lumos..." Harry
whispered, careful not to interrupt Sean's flow.
Sean's quill paused. "It is the Blinding Curse," he explained.
"Oh—sorry for bothering you, Sean. But... what exactly is a Blinding Curse?"
"It is the first spell I have truly reconstructed," Sean said, continuing to
refine his notes. "It involves altering the internal Order a wizard holds for
the Wand-Lighting Charm. Instead of a simple desire for light, the intent is
shifted toward a focused, piercing brilliance. When the wizard's intent changes,
the Order of the magic naturally shifts to match their will."
Sean spoke as if he were discussing the weather, but Harry was completely lost.
"Once the old Order collapses, a new one is rebuilt in its place," Sean
continued. "The challenge is that the old, collapsed Order can interfere with
the casting. A wizard who masters the Blinding Curse may find it difficult to
cast a standard Lumos for a ti, which is why I'm redesigning the ritualistic
elents... it is a matter of perfecting the Wisdom behind the reconstruction."
Harry stared at him, his mouth slightly open. "What is... reconstruction? And
Order? And... collapsing?"
Every word Sean said was in English, yet to Harry, it sounded like an ancient,
forgotten tongue.
Sean looked at him and smiled, realizing he had gone too deep into theory. "I've
created a new spell, Harry."
"Oh! You could have just started with that!" Harry said, the lightbulb finally
clicking. Then, he froze. "Wait... Sean, what did you just say?"
"I—"
"You created a new spell?!" Harry hissed, his voice rising in shock. "Just now?
On the bus?!"
"Mmm," Sean nodded. To him, magic was a rigorous science.
The Blinding Curse proved his theory. While it used the phonetic shell and
gestures of Lumos, it had completely detached itself from the thousand-year-old foundation of the basic Wand-Lighting Charm. It wasn't an "upgrade" or a
variation, like the difference between red and green sparks. It was sothing
entirely new—created from zero.
It was proof of Sean's core philosophy: A wizard searches inward to establish an unshakable Order within the soul. Once that Order is set, reality itself is
forced to obey.
Wisdom, Sean realized, was simply the wizard's attempt to give shape to the
soul's power.
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