Chapter 132: The Rejection
"You mean to say," Penelope Clearwater stammered, her prefectoral composure completely gone, "that you're not interested in Quidditch?" She recalibrated, forcing her disbelief into polite sincerity. "May I ask why, Mr. Green? You have an incredible gift. It would be a terrible waste if you didn't join the team."
Sean thought for a moment. He raised his wand. The blue flames in Hermione's nearby jar leaped out, twisting and solidifying into a lizard of pure fire. It skittered across the stone floor, leaving a scorching trail, then reared up, swelling to several times its original size before dissolving back into a wisp of flame that shot back into the jar.
The gathered students—Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and the ever-present owl portrait—let out a collective, hushed, "Merlin…"
Penelope was rooted to the spot. That was Advanced Transfiguration. She herself was only just beginning to grasp the theory, and this first-year… he had just cast it non-verbally, casually. And from his calm expression, he'd clearly done so with energy to spare.
"I'd heard this year's Green was brilliant," Tozer, the dark-haired Ravenclaw, muttered numbly, "but not this brilliant."
"Are we even learning the same subject?" the blond Ravenclaw beside him whispered, looking completely defeated.
"Little wizard! Foolish little wizards!" Mr. Owl hooted, puffing out his chest, looking immensely proud. The cowed upper-years just bowed their heads, suddenly wondering if... maybe...
Sean, the center of attention, merely nodded politely. "Thank you for the offer, Prefect, but I prefer to focus my time on Transfiguration."
He walked past Penelope, who stood, lips pressed tightly together, frowning. She sighed in frustration, then shot a venomous look at the shuffling Quidditch players behind her, especially the idiotic Roger. If they had only approached him earlier, she fumed, before he fell in love with Transfiguration. Could they have made him love Quidditch instead?
"Roger!" she snapped, her anger returning. "You will win the House Cup this year!"
"Yes, Penelope!" Roger snapped to attention.
"I'll find another way…" she muttered, stalking off.
In a nearby corridor, the disappointment was just as acute.
"H-Harry," Ron stammered, "do we still have a chance?"
"I… I think so?" Harry replied, though his own hopes were crumbling.
Every first-year admired Sean Green. It wasn't just Green's Notes. It was that he knew things, and he was willing to share. Even the Slytherins left him alone. When upper-years boasted about their magic, the first-years now had a counter:
"Transfiguration? Ha! Mr. Green can turn a desk into a boar!"
"If you can cast non-verbally, then maybe you're almost at Mr. Green's level!"
Mr. Green was the pride of the first-years. As Professor Flitwick had said, "Astonishing! You children are the fastest-progressing class of first-years I've ever had!" They all knew it was thanks to the notes, but it didn't stop them from puffing out their chests.
Joining Sean's "secret organization" had become an obsession for Harry and Ron. They felt a tangible rift whenever they were with Neville, who was clearly in.
Justin, watching them from a distance, had been laughing for three days. What on earth, Hermione wondered, do they think this is? Did they really think Sean cared about Quidditch?
Thursday. Snow.
Flurries drifted past the windows. Sean, moving with purpose, reviewed his notes on Alchemy and Potions. The answer to the Panel's requirement was clear.
Alchemy, First Stage (Nigredo): Solutio. The dissolution. The breaking down of impure metals... into their prima materia, so they may be reborn in a new form.
It sounded familiar. He pulled out Advanced Potion-Making.
The fusion of ingredients is one of the most profound transformations. Impure substances... are broken down... into their prima materia, so they may be reborn in a new form.
He didn't know who was borrowing from whom, but the connection was undeniable: Potions was a form of Alchemy, both dealing with the fundamental transmutation of matter. Unlocking the Adept Potions title was now an absolute necessity.
He checked his Panel on the way to the dungeon.
[Title: Potions Novice]
[Effect: Significantly increases perception of Potions. Slightly improves Potions talent.]
[Next Tier: Adept Potions (Requires three Adept-level and three Novice-level Potions)]
[Boil-Cure Potion: Adept (210/900)]
[Deflating Draught: Novice (220/300)]
[Swelling Solution: Novice (210/300)]
The grind was long, but the proficiency requirements weren't impossibly high. He could do this.
The dungeon wind was now laced with snow. Snape seemed more on edge than usual, his gaze flicking constantly between Sean and the door.
"You have one hour, Green. If you haven't mastered it by then... Do you think you have all the time in the world?!"
(End of Chapter)
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