Chapter 134: The Legacy
[I sleep here, yet I am elsewhere.
Of the vast sea of Potions, I still know nothing.
But now, does it reveal a miracle?
The only fragments of Borage, dedicated to all wizards struggling in the realm of Potions Willpower—]
Centuries of history were buried beneath the snow. In the heart of the Scottish Highlands, the howling wind shattered against the cold stone walls of the castle.
Sean sat alone by the window, a stack of heavy, ancient tomes spread across his knees. His gaze flickered between the winding text on the pages and the chaotic darkness outside. Every flash of lightning briefly illuminated the turbulent Black Lake far below the tower.
He understood now. The power of willpower in Potions ultimately moved from strengthening, to guiding, to fusion.
Behind the great adventures of Zygmunt Budge and Libatius Borage, the Arctic Ocean met the Nile in a swirl of mist—
Sean picked up a plain, sky-blue quill. In that moment, it felt as if three pairs of hands were holding it together—
[Next, I will demonstrate the framework of the Potions Willpower System—]
Modified rituals, Willpower Strengthening, Willpower Guidance…
Until the final step: Fusion Enlightenment.
Just as Libatius Borage had done, Sean wrote the method on a slip of parchment. As he wrote, the parchment duplicated itself as he expected, slipping between the pages of the book before fading from sight.
Sean stared at the parchment in his hand, stunned. In the corner, a bold character had quietly appeared. Unlike the notes shared between Sean, Professor Snape, and… the other, this was an Ancient Rune: Ken.
It meant 'torch' or 'knowledge'—a light illuminating the path ahead.
Sean gazed at the note for a long time. Knowledge, he knew, was never truly broken.
When Sean slowly woke up, he found Michael righteously refusing someone at the door. After Sean stirred, Michael picked up a watering can and tended to the potted Bouncing Bulb.
Outside the diamond-paned window, snow was still falling. Michael muttered cheerfully to himself: "Oh—poor Bouncing Bulb, Sean is never around, I guess no one waters you..."
Sean finally understood why the Bouncing Bulb had been looking so deflated lately.
After watering the plant (outside Sean's designated area), Michael immediately started studying Sean's Quidditch training manual again. Yes, even though Michael had only mentioned it once, Sean had dug out the notebook for him.
Footsteps echoed on the stairs leading up to the Ravenclaw common room.
"A true genius... controlling oneself, guiding the magic... that's Sean for you. No wonder those guys wanted him on the Quidditch team... but I could tell early on Sean doesn't care for Quidditch.
"And a Seeker! Those idiots, why didn't they ask me? I can take a hit much better than Sean... If I could block for Sean or take a Bludger for him, maybe I'd support those guys waking people up at the crack of dawn."
Hearing another knock, Michael opened the door without thinking, then immediately slipped out—Anthony and Terry were waiting.
In the days that followed, Sean's life fell into a steady rhythm.
In the morning, he was the first to arrive at the Room of Hope. Justin always arrived one minute later. They would share whatever breakfast Justin had prepared. Scottish breakfasts were famously hearty, and Justin always made at least three different dishes. Combined with a steaming mug of honey-citron tea, the wind and snow outside blurred into a cozy mist.
Sean would first update his notes. Progress on History of Magic and Astronomy was slow, mostly supplementary now—Sean had reached third-year material in History, while the other students were still on the first half of year one.
Charms and Transfiguration were updated fastest. Although most students in the room couldn't understand the advanced content, they checked it daily, seemingly happier to see progress than if they had learned it themselves.
Potions and Herbology notes were the most frequently borrowed, as few could remember every word Snape said after a terrifying lesson. Neville and Justin helped supplement the Herbology notes.
The Defence Against the Dark Arts notes were special. Without Sean's notes, self-study was the only option, so Justin copied two sets and quietly updated them daily.
The room was filled with plants, growing steadily under magical care, making the space lush and green. Neville carefully pruned them to keep them from taking over. Justin constantly praised him as a Herbology master. At first, Neville would blush furiously, but now, he was starting to believe it.
Outside, the wind howled. Inside the Room of Hope, the fire burned warmly.
Hermione entered, arms full of books, followed by Neville clutching a flowerpot.
At noon, the three of them went to the greenhouses to help. After the storms of October, Sean's Herbology Knowledge had reached the [Novice] level and was pushing towards [Adept]. Progress, like in Potions, was slow but steady.
Elsewhere in the castle, above the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall, a small room held a warm fire.
Minerva McGonagall waited for an owl braving the snow. It had become a habit. When letters arrived from distant London, she couldn't help but think of the small boy. She thought of his green eyes, often shining with a hunger for magic.
[...Perhaps he asks for nothing, or perhaps he never had anything...]
The letters from Croydon often made her stern face pause in thought.
When the snow fell heavier, three small figures wrapped in thick cloaks appeared. Their boots left deep and shallow prints in the thin snow. Neville looked at Sean expectantly.
Sean waved his wand. A fire salamander leaped from its jar, scrambling onto Neville's head in a few breaths.
[You have practiced an Advanced Transfiguration to the Adept standard. Proficiency +300]
Neville quickly buried his head in the snow, bum in the air, giggling foolishly as the salamander burned a trail through the white powder.
Recently, the fire salamander had become increasingly disobedient. At the same time, Sean felt he was approaching the Expert level in the object-to-magic branch of Advanced Transfiguration. He just needed a catalyst.
He wasn't in a rush. He waited patiently for inspiration to strike.
(End of Chapter)
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