Fawkes the phoenix was about to undergo his rebirth, but the Headmaster's office was empty at the moment.
Sean wasn't the kind of student who liked snooping around, so he sat beneath the portraits with The History of Magical Careers in hand, waiting.
There was still room to improve the material. In the Auror section, for example, aspiring wizards should also know that the Ministry reviews applicants' disciplinary records.
That meant they had to maintain a good reputation. Harry, for instance, had once been charged for using magic outside school. If that charge hadn't been withdrawn, it would have been very difficult for him to become an Auror—at least according to the rules.
And Auror training covered a lot of things. Two of the subjects were "Concealment and Disguise" and "Stealth and Tracking."
In the original story, Tonks mentioned that she got top marks in "Concealment and Disguise" with ease—probably thanks to her natural Metamorphmagus ability—but she had nearly failed "Stealth and Tracking."
The wizarding world wasn't just the vague impression Sean had in his head. It had plenty of fine details and a complete framework.
And that was exactly the kind of thing Sean enjoyed exploring.
A lot of the time, he learned extra things simply by tracing how magical professions had changed.
For instance, he learned that the last remaining giant settlements had once been wiped out by the Ministry, and the force they sent was a group of highly trained Aurors whose combat ability far surpassed that of an entire giant colony.
And when a dragon went berserk, that was handled by Aurors too, working together with dragon tamers…
Interesting, wasn't it?
The gap between individual wizards could really be that huge—Aurors could beat giants and handle dragons, while most adult wizards would have their legs shaking just from seeing one.
Throughout magical history, Aurors had always carried out missions that severe, and the interesting part was that they had consistently done it well.
The fact that most giants and dragons had now been driven out by wizards was clear proof of that.
So did that mean the upper limit of wizarding magic had never actually declined? After all, in Ravenclaw's memories, the ancient wizards she had seen didn't seem that much stronger than Aurors.
So Sean came to this conclusion: magic was malleable.
Ancient wizards needed overwhelming magical power in order to win the right to survive, so ancient magic naturally became powerful;
modern wizards needed magic that was more practical and efficient, and so the standard spell system became simpler and easier to learn.
"In theory, a wizard's magic should only be limited by one thing: the wizard themselves.
If a wizard possesses unwavering belief and the corresponding spiritual will, then magic has already come into being—incantations, wands, and gestures are merely practical methods later generations use to make that power easier to grasp.
That explains the ultimate origin of wizarding magic—in the magical world, magic may be an objectively existing force, or it may be a truly mind-born spiritual force—but within the individual wizard, the root of magic is absolutely mind-born.
As for where the difference in talent between wizards comes from… go on, keep writing, dear, I'm dying to know—"
"Good afternoon, Headmistress Dilys Derwent."
The headmaster wasn't in, but the objects in the office seemed more lively than usual.
At that moment, the portrait of Headmistress Dilys Derwent was watching Sean with great interest while he wrote down part of his understanding of magic.
"Many wizards have occupied this office, but you may well be the most talented of them all," Dilys Derwent said kindly.
"I haven't occupied it, and I'm not the Headmaster."
Sean put away his parchment and quill.
"That's only a matter of time, dear."
Dilys Derwent beamed.
Sean fell silent. Her words were too direct, and they reminded him of what Headmaster Dumbledore had once said:
"If you intend to replace me, then you'll first have to find the proper place for an old wizard to go."
"So where does the difference in magical talent between wizards come from?" Dilys Derwent asked curiously.
That question drew the attention of a whole bunch of former heads. Several pairs of eyes fixed on Sean.
"Magic changes reality, and reality influences magic," Sean said.
"What does that mean?" asked Headmaster Everard.
He was an old wizard with a pale face and short black bangs.
"When a wizard's magic reaches a certain level, it begins to affect the wizard themselves, and that effect can be inherited.
That's why a wizard's descendants display magical traits corresponding to their ancestors.
If you've studied magical history, you'll notice that descriptions of the founders of certain special magical abilities are always vague.
It's not because the witches and wizards writing those books didn't want to explain where that power came from. It's because the origin itself can't really be explained—the origin is the wizard."
Sean spread the parchment open again.
"A fresh explanation…"
The old wizard sounded impressed.
"So that's also why there's no such thing as caterpillar bloodlines or slug bloodlines?"
Dilys Derwent asked with a curious smile.
Sean closed the notebook, making sure she couldn't keep peeking at it.
Caterpillar bloodlines, slug bloodlines—those had been questions Sean had wondered about a long time ago.
"Ravenclaw's stinginess with knowledge…"
Dilys Derwent smiled like a sunflower in bloom.
Avoiding the headmasters who kept trying to sneak a look at his notes for fun, Sean noticed an elderly bird nearby—it looked like a turkey that had lost half its feathers.
Sean stared at it, and the bird stared back at him with a mournful look, making little choking sounds.
Sean quietly fed Fawkes some herbs, the finest available in Diagon Alley.
Fawkes stopped pretending to be sick just to tease him and instead gave a pleased little trill.
A clear, ethereal song filled the Headmaster's office.
It was the most beautiful sound Sean had ever heard… He felt the song inside his heart rather than around him… It made him think of many things, almost like a friend speaking close to his ear…
"How beautiful. It seems Mr. Fawkes has offered us a song for afternoon tea."
It was Headmaster Dumbledore, pushing the door open as he entered.
"A phoenix's song gives courage, stirs the fighting spirit, and calls to mind the person—or the memory—that inspires you most. I have to admit, I'm rather curious. What did you hear?"
A soft flutter of wings sounded to Sean's left. Fawkes had left his perch at the far side of the office, flown across the room, and landed in Sean's lap.
"The person who inspires him most…"
Sean said quietly,
"I heard my own voice."
"Ah…"
Dumbledore fell silent for a moment.
At that, Fawkes calmly blinked up at Sean.
~~~
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