Chapter 360: The Requiem Ritual
"Mmm. You've just finished engraving five hundred and twenty sets of Undetectable Extension runes."
Newt's gaze shifted to the object behind Sean. The interior space of the Wizard's Tome was now vast enough to comfortably hold an entire classroom.
"Five hundred and twenty-one, Mr. Scamander," Sean corrected, glancing at the parchment in his hand, which was covered in a dense, meticulously organized runic array.
It was a habit of his to document every step of the alchemical process, turning his experiments into a formal ledger.
"Fascinating. The spatial variant of the Severing Charm is... well, it's a difficult bit of magic. We can take our time with it," Newt said with a warm, encouraging smile.
For the remainder of the day, Sean followed Master Newt through the wilds of the Ilvermorny forest. As the biting wind howled through the peaks, their boots crunched over the frost-covered grass.
They moved constantly, stopping in one location to practice the charm until Newt sensed the local space becoming too unstable, at which point they would relocate to another secluded spot. They trekked through dense woodland, peered into shadowed cliff-fissures, crossed purple-tinged moorlands, and climbed slopes covered in bright yellow gorse. Once, they even found themselves in a hidden, pebbled cove tucked away by a mountain stream.
The Ilvermorny forest was even more expansive than the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. Sean studied under Newt's guidance until the stars were high in the sky.
During their break, a Pukwudgie arrived to bring them a lavish meal. While they ate, tucked behind the trunk of a massive ancient tree, they watched a pair of Ilvermorny students in the distance. The young couple was using twigs to write messages to one another in the fresh snow.
"I've finished!" a young witch called out happily.
The boy with her walked over, his expression a mix of excitement and nerves. They were writing the kind of letters only winter allows—messages of everything they were too shy to say aloud. The only drawback was that the letters were ephemeral; if they didn't read them quickly, the falling snow would erase them forever.
The cold air turned Sean's breath into white plumes, and frost began to cling to his eyebrows. He adjusted the scarf Professor McGonagall had given him and noticed that Master Newt was wearing a similarly bulky, hand-knitted scarf.
"My wife, my dear Tina, spent a whole week knitting this for me," Newt said with a fond, bashful smile.
Sean nodded. His thoughts drifted across the Atlantic, past the icy currents of the ocean, to a warm fireplace in a certain Transfiguration office. He wondered if the balls of yarn and long needles were currently moving in Minerva McGonagall's hands.
In the heart of winter, as the snow crunched underfoot, two traveling wizards remained warm, each bundled in a scarf that was clearly a few sizes too large.
By the middle of the night, Sean finally achieved his breakthrough.
When he successfully "severed" a small pocket of space, he felt a surge of pure triumph. Shaking the snow from his hair, he raised his wand high so Master Newt could see the result.
"Excellent. A very... very rapid pace of learning," Newt praised softly.
Sean turned his attention to his internal display.
[Alert: You have practiced the Severing Charm (Spatial) at an Apprentice standard. Proficiency +3]
[Severing Charm (Spatial): Locked (3/30)]
For Sean, the hardest part was always the first successful cast. Now that the skill was anchored, the only remaining hurdle was time.
The Stone Cottage.
Sean stepped out of the freezing night into the welcoming warmth of the cottage.
A meal of hot porridge, sliced beef, and various winter fruits was laid out on the table. Near the hearth, a few sweet potatoes and a small pumpkin were roasting, filling the room with an irresistible aroma.
"Have something to eat. It's been so long since anyone stayed here; I'd almost forgotten how talented William is in the kitchen," Headmistress Isolt noted as she materialized by the fire.
Sean paused, his fork halfway to a piece of beef. He turned his mind back to his research.
"If ghosts are the products of lingering obsession... then even if that obsession is resolved, how exactly do they return to the Lands Between?" Sean asked, his brow furrowed as he gripped his steaming mug of pumpkin juice.
"You are a remarkably well-read young wizard. You know of the Lands Between?" Isolt asked, her interest piqued.
"I have some understanding of the realm, Headmistress Sayre," Sean replied.
"The World Behind the Veil... how wonderful. I am quite ready to reunite with James, Chadwick, and Webster," Isolt said, a long, wistful smile touching her translucent face.
"The school we built has become legendary. Wizarding families from across North America clamor to send their children here. Liberty, justice, and equality are now carved into the hearts of every Ilvermorny student. And the body of North American magical knowledge we compiled—the fusion of indigenous and European magic—has grown into something new, something powerful and beautiful."
Sean stopped drinking, his green eyes fixed on the founder.
"Magic is a thing of splendor, child. When a wizard possesses sufficient knowledge and a firm enough conviction, magic flows as naturally as a mountain spring. An arrow's range cannot exceed the tension of the bow, and a wizard's power cannot exceed the strength of their belief."
Isolt drifted closer, pointing to the runes etched above the fireplace.
"Since the Veil exists, there must be magic to lift it. This is the ritual designed to guide a ghost back to the Lands Between. I have watched Herrera grow up, and I have watched William grow old... to ask them to be the ones to send me away... it would be too heartbreaking for them. If you were willing to assist me, it would be a great kindness."
Sean looked up at the glowing runes. The words [REQUIEM RITUAL] shimmered with a soft, silver light. He realized the weight of the request.
"I would be honored to help," Sean said with a respectful nod.
Sending a ghost to their final rest... it was a strange, solemn thought.
The next morning, Sean woke early. He took a sip of pumpkin juice and immediately began his wand-work.
[Alert: You have practiced the Severing Charm (Spatial) at an Apprentice standard. Proficiency +3]
[Alert: You have practiced the Severing Charm (Spatial) at an Apprentice standard. Proficiency +3]
He continued until mental fatigue set in. The spatial variant was still grueling to cast, and the prospect of actually transferring a living environment into his book felt miles away. He estimated he would need to reach the [Adept] tier before the Tome could truly function as a sanctuary.
He stepped out onto the snowy path. Ilvermorny Castle shimmered in the distance through the morning haze. Master Newt was waiting for him in the forest.
As the snow began to fall in heavy flakes, Sean entered the woods. The silence of the forest was broken by a symphony of subtle noises: the distant snap of a branch, the soft hiss of snow hitting the ground, and the rhythmic padding of unseen paws.
Suddenly, Sean spotted a blur of yellow-gold fur darting through the underbrush at impossible speed.
His heart leaped. A Wampus Cat—the wild, elusive guardian of the mountain.
[End of Chapter 360]
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