Chapter 200: Symposium Time
January passed amidst relentless rain and snow.
Sean's days at Hogwarts settled into a rare, steady rhythm.
He was either testing his new rituals at Hagrid's hut or practicing Transfiguration in the Forbidden Forest.
Thanks to Sean's presence, Hagrid found plenty of time lately to grab a drink at the Three Broomsticks or queue up at Weasley & Green's Wizard Wheezes to buy the Animal Party Series.
Unfortunately, no matter how early he arrived, he never got to the front.
A multitude of "proxy purchasing wizards" had recently appeared in Diagon Alley.
Hagrid, seeing the same wizards at the head of the queue every day, nearly got into a brawl with them out of sheer frustration.
Eventually, the freckle-faced shop manager gratefully gifted him a full series and urged him to maintain his righteous indignation.
This made Hagrid rather bashful.
"She hired you as a bodyguard for the price of a biscuit series?" Sean asked.
"Bodyguard? How can you call it that... Sean, I was willing..." Hagrid said carelessly, then paused as a thought struck him. "Oh, I mean, Sean. If I agree to keep watching, will you pay me? Oh... just some biscuits would be fine..."
Sean looked at Hagrid, realizing suddenly that beneath the rough exterior lay a meticulous heart.
"Deal." Sean nodded.
Overjoyed, Hagrid whipped up a huge cauldron of rock cakes. After applying a Softening Charm, Sean ate until he was stuffed.
"So glad you like 'em... most people just don't appreciate the taste..." Hagrid wiped the corner of his eye.
Sean nodded and raised his hand. There, a small creature with twig-like limbs was perched.
Tila, the Bowtruckle Sean had chosen. It was very fond of Sean's pockets and arms. Since yesterday, it had even followed Sean out of the Forbidden Forest.
Correspondingly, Sean had selected the Bowtruckle for his next Magical Creature Biscuit.
It possessed excellent camouflage abilities, which would be incredibly useful in specific situations. For instance, after casting a Smokescreen Spell, a wizard could transform into a Bowtruckle and hide in a nook—something anyone unfamiliar with Transfiguration Biscuits would never suspect.
However, the ritual for it had become a hurdle for Sean. Despite numerous discussions with Professor Terra recently, he hadn't been able to finalize it quickly.
Recalling the source of his last success—the imitation and modification of Polyjuice Potion—Sean carried Advanced Potion-Making with him everywhere. Inspiration soon struck.
Another Thursday arrived at Hogwarts.
The bone-chilling weather remained unchanged. The atmosphere in the Ravenclaw common room was somewhat heavy.
Their match against Hufflepuff was approaching day by day, but the Quidditch team's morale was low.
They were confident they could beat Hufflepuff; although Cedric was tricky, Roger Davies believed he could contain him.
But past Hufflepuff, they would have to face Gryffindor and their first-year Seeker—Harry Potter.
In his last match, Harry had demonstrated exceptional skill, catching the Golden Snitch in under five minutes.
"Will he play?" Roger asked Prefect Penelope in a low voice.
"He will." Penelope gazed at the eagle soaring outside the window, then at the confirmed Quidditch schedule—next Wednesday.
Third-floor corridor.
Sean knocked on the door of the Transfiguration office, carrying a box of peculiar biscuits.
"Come in, child."
Professor McGonagall was reading a journal that looked like a newspaper.
Even as a master in the field of Transfiguration, the Professor never ceased her research. Influenced by her, Sean had read a vast number of books on Transfiguration.
On Thursdays, the Professor would share the latest draft of a journal with Sean.
It was Transfiguration Today, focusing on the latest developments in the field, including scholarly articles and industry news. Both Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall had published articles in it.
Bathilda Bagshot, the author of A History of Magic, had once publicly praised a paper Dumbledore published in it during his student days—a paper on cross-species transfiguration.
Professor McGonagall had also won the Most Promising Newcomer Award.
"Child, are these... some Kneazle Biscuits?" Professor McGonagall asked with a gentle smile.
Sean shook his head.
These were actually the Kneazle Transfiguration Biscuits he had recently developed, with proficiency now at [Novice].
Enough to last for one minute.
"Then what are they?" Professor McGonagall seemed intrigued. She always encouraged whatever Sean was working on.
"It's a Kneazle," Sean said softly.
"A Kneazle, hmm... A Kneazle—?!" Professor McGonagall's voice wavered.
Ten minutes later.
"There hasn't been such a significant breakthrough in Transfiguration for centuries..."
Professor McGonagall, having transformed back, murmured to herself. She looked at Sean, who seemed oblivious to the magnitude of his achievement.
Acquiring the magical power of a magical creature was something worth writing volumes about, even in the grand history of Transfiguration.
Wizards had coveted the power of magical creatures for thousands of years. Yet, all they could do was use their hide, fur, and blood to make potions...
Was it because they didn't want the creatures' power? No, simply because they couldn't achieve it.
Magical creatures had existed almost as long as magic itself. Some powerful ones could predict danger, control storms, be reborn from fire...
Envious wizards had tried everything, yet failed to steal their authority.
Take Polyjuice Potion, for instance. Why did it come with the warning "Only for human transformation"? The reason was obvious—wizards had initially tried to use it to transform into magical creatures, only to discover it was impossible.
"Don't let anyone know, child."
Professor McGonagall could hear her own heartbeat. She spoke with utmost seriousness.
Sean was silent for a moment. "Professor Terra, she knows..."
"She doesn't know, silly child."
Professor McGonagall finished softly, then walked out of the Transfiguration office with a blank expression.
This single Transfiguration Biscuit was proof enough of the child's astonishing talent in Transfiguration. She was certain he would eventually surpass her, and perhaps even... Albus.
How could such talent be wasted by those mystical-mumbling alchemists?!
Headmaster's Office. The stone gargoyle hopped aside of its own accord.
"Albus—" Professor McGonagall's voice was urgent.
"Look at this—"
Sean stood alone at the door of the Transfiguration office. The Professor's reaction had been far greater than he anticipated.
Suddenly, he felt a warmth in his palm. Looking down, he saw the invitation to the International Alchemical Symposium had floated out of his bag and into his hand:
In this land of magic, what awaits us...
The wind blows across snowfields and deserts,
Ancient banners snap atop the peaks,
Every curve of the runic script buries an undiscovered legend.
Some are lost in the deep forests,
Some are reborn in the sea of fire,
And we—
Where shall we carve our inscriptions?
The International Alchemical Symposium, in three calendar months,
Awaits—
The arrival of legends.
(End of Chapter)
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