The Hope Nook.
A roaring fire was going in the hearth.
In winter, Mr. Owl wore a little hat, and sometimes put tiny mittens on his claws.
When Sean saw him, he was currently biting a little coat he'd somehow found in one of the portraits, trying to put it on himself.
"Little wizard!"
he called, and the coat promptly fell to the floor.
By the time Sean opened the door, Mr. Owl was pecking and swatting at him again. Everyone else would always pretend to be terrified at moments like this, just so Mr. Owl would shut up for a few days.
Beside the cozy fire sat Sean's very self-aware wooden bookcase.
At the moment it was busy rearranging itself, then spat out a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
Sean stared at the bookcase for a while. He had a feeling its self-awareness was growing a bit too fast.
He opened Fantastic Beasts. The first page was a foreword by Headmaster Dumbledore.
[The magizoologist Newt Scamander's classic work has become an approved textbook at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
It has undoubtedly helped generations of our students achieve outstanding results in Care of Magical Creatures examinations. Yet this volume is far from being merely a school text.
No wizarding household is complete without a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them on the shelf; it is passed down, dog-eared and battered, as families search for the best way to rid a lawn of Horklumps, interpret a Fwooper's song, or cure a pet Puffskein of its habit of drinking from the toilet.
— Albus Dumbledore]
That made Sean think of something. He pulled out a notebook filled with dense, obscure notes.
The International Alchemical Association had been urging him to write a book on Fairytale Biscuits. Nicolas Flamel had even agreed to write the foreword in person.
Yes, that Nicolas Flamel—he was still alive.
Sean didn't know whether he'd become the flap of the butterfly's wings, but if the old master still wanted to live, no one was going to let him die.
Professor Tayra's view was much simpler:
[Letting a master who has chased alchemy all his life die while his curiosity is still burning, Sean, you might actually get to see his ghost.]
So the manuscript had been in progress ever since.
Recording the ritual itself wasn't particularly hard; explaining the principles behind it was.
At least, Sean still couldn't explain half the flashes of inspiration that hit him. Instead, those flashes had become the way he dug deeper into alchemical ritual.
And once you reached Expert level in alchemy, the requirements for a Master title became even harsher.
[Progression requirement: Create three different Master-tier high-level alchemical artifacts to unlock the Alchemy Master title.]
Sean's Fairytale Biscuit series still only counted as one category. That alone said a lot about the difficulty.
And even among the Fairytale Biscuits, his most practiced—Cat-Sìth—was only at Expert.
That level of difficulty made him think of spellwork:
[Progression requirement: Twelve Expert-level spells or five Master-level spells to unlock the Spellcasting Expert title.]
Sometimes Sean wondered, How much proficiency is "a lot," exactly?
He set the draft aside. Even if it got published, Professor Tayra maintained that the number of people who could understand it could be counted on one hand.
As for anyone trying to replicate it, Tayra just snorted:
[Give the world another hundred years and no one will manage it.
The Book of Abraham the Jew has existed this long, and only Nicolas Flamel has ever produced a Philosopher's Stone.]
The talent requirement for top-tier alchemy was almost as brutal as for Divination.
…
Outside, snow whispered down; in the Hope Nook, another day steeped in study came and went.
Justin seemed much better. He was currently researching spell-combination techniques, with sweets baking away in the oven.
Hermione had recently become obsessed with nonverbal spells; Professor Flitwick had been coaching her constantly.
Ron could now reliably transform small trinkets; every so often a mouse or beetle would scuttle across his desk.
Harry was always happy to sit with Neville and talk through Defensive Magic. Both were particularly gifted there.
And Sean was still carefully reading Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
He turned a slightly heavy, textured page. The script on it was clear:
[In 1832, a wizard in Cincinnati called Abel Treetops claimed to hold a patent for taming Wampus Cats to guard wizard homes.
The MACUSA Aurors raided Treetops's house and found he had been casting Engorgement Charms on Kneazles. He was exposed as a fraud.]
Looks like the wizarding world had no shortage of con artists…
Sean thought to himself, then flipped further toward the end:
[Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has long harboured rumours of Wampus Cats, likely because Wampus is one of its house names.
In fact, Wampus Cats do indeed reside there.]
"Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…"
Sean quietly repeated the name.
Aside from that school, trying to track down a Wampus Cat somewhere in the vastness of North America would be… optimistic at best.
And if he was remembering correctly, Professor Tayra was an honorary professor at Ilvermorny.
For reasons unknown, the professor seemed to have taught at half the magic schools in the world.
…
"Oh, that question…"
Professor Tayra bent down a little, smiling as she answered:
"I was looking for you, my disciple."
Sean froze for a moment.
"You seem very interested in Wampus Cats. In that case, this Christmas we might be due for a nice little trip.
Ilvermorny is widely regarded as one of the most democratic schools in the world— a great school with truly open admission.
Let me think… they even have a Sorting ceremony not unlike Hogwarts."
Professor Tayra briefly outlined Ilvermorny's traits, then a paper airplane lifted off, wobbling as it went.
The message inside was simple:
[Eugenia Herrera, it seems your prayers have been answered. I'll be bringing my disciple to visit over the Christmas holidays.]
If Sean remembered the tall, dark-skinned elderly witch from the alchemy conference, he'd now realize something else:
That same witch was a mixed-blood North American witch and the current Headmistress of Ilvermorny.
Her successor would be Agilbert Fontaine.
Ilvermorny had produced many notable witches and wizards— Tina Goldstein, for one, an excellent Auror and, more importantly, one of Sean's very famous seniors and Newt's wife.
Out in the corridor,
Heavy snowflakes were swirling in the sky, plastered across the windows so the castle's interior light was dimmer than usual.
Sean's Marauder-style map floated out by itself and, at the far edge of the Hogwarts grounds, added a new landmark:
[Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry],
with a tiny note in the corner: [Christmas].
~~~
Patreon(.)com/Bleam
— Currently You can Read 120 Chapters Ahead of Others!