Chapter 570: His Time Was Out of Sync
After Sean provided a demonstration of non-verbal casting, Professor Snape paired the students up. One was tasked with casting a minor non-verbal hex, while the other attempted to perform a silent counter-jinx.
However, Snape chose to ignore the fact that these were only third-year students. To meet his impossible standards, the class descended into a festival of cheating. Most students were simply whispering the incantations under their breath, hoping the Professor wouldn't notice the movement of their lips.
To Sean's slight surprise, barely ten minutes into the lesson, Hermione successfully repelled Sean's non-verbal Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single syllable.
"Well done, Hermione," Sean said, stowing his wand.
"Was that fast enough?" she asked breathlessly.
"Very fast. I'd say that hits the [Expert] standard," Sean replied with a smile.
Even by the most rigorous evaluation, Hermione's talent for Charms was approaching the Master level. Her progress had been swift from the start, but fueled by a mysterious new motivation, she and Justin had pulled away from the rest of the year entirely. The most obvious proof was the Dueling Club rankings, where they consistently held the second and third spots.
Even Harry, despite his devastatingly powerful "Expelliarmus" (which Ron had dubbed the 'End Your Life' spell), struggled to beat them. After all, a spell could be dodged.
"Non-verbal spells aren't too bad..." Hermione said, her face glowing with satisfaction. "But wandless magic? How on earth did you manage that, Sean?"
"You might want to check the library shelves in the cottage," Sean suggested. "Look for the third set of notes from September under the 'Charms' category."
Those notes contained his personal deconstruction of the Ravenclaw archives, combined with his understanding of the "Order" of magic. He had placed them on the highest shelf, assuming Hermione wouldn't need them until her fourth year.
But the pace was accelerating.
Hermione was becoming a "six-sided warrior"—an all-rounder who excelled in every discipline. In her personal journal, most of her charms had already reached [Proficient], with several reaching [Expert]. In Potions, Herbology, and even Defense, her level rivaled that of a graduating seventh-year.
Justin, meanwhile, had become a "Mini-Hermione." He matched her pace in most areas, but in the fields of Stealth, Reconnaissance, and Concealment magic, he was nearly Sean's equal. Considering Sean's Disillusionment Charm was at the Master level, that was a terrifying thought.
The rest of the group was carving their own paths. Ron had developed a singular obsession with Transfiguration; he was determined to qualify for Professor McGonagall's N.E.W.T. level class. He no longer fooled around in her lessons, and even McGonagall had begun to look at him with a glimmer of approval.
Harry and Neville had found their passion in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Both held a quiet, burning ambition to become Aurors. They spent their free time pouring over The History of Magical Professions and the Auror Training Manual—a document Sean had written specifically for them. Neville never spoke of his dream, but Justin seemed to sense it, spending hours every day as his training partner. Harry, naturally, trained with Ron; their combination of high-tier Defense and specialized Transfiguration made them a formidable duo.
"That's brilliant!"
Hermione's voice snapped Sean back to the classroom. Her bushy hair seemed to bounce with her excitement.
The autumn sun broke through the clouds for the third time that hour, illuminating the elm desk in front of Sean. Professor Snape chose that exact moment to sweep past, his black robes billowing. He looked at Hermione's successful cast, then at Sean, and his expression turned into a complicated mask of annoyance and pride. He said nothing, simply continuing his patrol.
He stopped near Harry and Ron, watching their struggle with a cold smirk. Ron was trying to hex Harry, his face turning a dangerous shade of red as he bit his tongue to keep from speaking. Harry stood with his wand raised, looking terrified as he waited for a spell that never seemed to come.
"Pathetic, Weasley," Snape drawled. "Here—allow me to demonstrate."
In a blur of motion, Snape turned his wand on Harry. Harry ducked instinctively as a silent curse whistled over his head.
Defense class ended as a marathon of misery for Harry. Most of the students looked like they'd just run a gauntlet, but Hermione was energized.
"The lack of sound is so jarring! How did you train your mind for it, Sean?" she asked as they headed toward the dungeons for Potions.
"I used a Silencing Charm on myself," Sean explained. "If you physically can't make a sound, your mind is forced to adapt."
"Oh! Why didn't I think of that?" Hermione's eyes sparkled. She loved the logic of it.
"Professor Flitwick suggested it to me," Sean added.
"That's not fair! He never told me!" Hermione huffed.
"Maybe because you aren't a Ravenclaw?" Ron interjected, stealing a glance at her.
Ever since the Crookshanks misunderstanding had been cleared, Hermione had been treating Ron with a level of frostiness that could rival the Great Lake. Ron knew he'd been wrong about the cat, but his pride wouldn't let him apologize—especially after he'd accidentally renamed the Hogwarts M-Net channel "The Know-It-Alls."
"Don't listen to him," Justin said, appearing at their side. "Flitwick probably doesn't realize you're already at the non-verbal stage, Hermione. Have you shown him?"
"Oh..." Hermione's ears turned pink. "Well, no."
"Why are you even here, Justin?" she asked, trying to deflect. "Hufflepuff doesn't have Potions now."
"Don't you know? Professor Slughorn is doing a joint-house lecture today. It was on the notice board this morning," Justin said, looking at her with confusion.
Hermione went red. She had been so buried in her Arithmancy charts she hadn't looked at a notice in days.
Truthfully, Sean hadn't noticed either. His mind was consumed by the Voldemort situation and his excessive use of the Time-Turner.
As the students of all four houses flooded into the dungeons, Sean walked past the bubbling cauldrons, observing Professor Slughorn. Now that he knew Nagini wasn't a Horcrux yet, the memory of Slughorn's conversation with a young Tom Riddle was more vital than ever. Any scrap of intel could save a life—people like the old caretaker at the Riddle House or Bertha Jorkins.
Sean reached into his bag and touched the large group photo from the Great Hall. Strangely, the number of people in the photo seemed to have increased.
Wizards from all four houses took their seats. Sean's group, representing three different houses but still sitting together, stood out like a sore thumb. But no one cared. Every nose in the room was twitching at the scents rising from the front of the room.
It was an intoxicating aroma: a mix of treacle tart, the woody scent of a broomstick handle, and a floral note that reminded each student of their own home.
"Now then, now then, now then," Slughorn boomed, his massive frame looking blurry through the rising steam. "Scales out, ingredients ready! And don't forget your textbooks..."
The room filled with the sound of rustling parchment. Slughorn puffed out his chest, his waistcoat buttons straining against the fabric.
"My dear Mr. Green! Why are you sitting with the students? You're on the wrong side of the desk!"
Sean blinked. He had completely forgotten his role as Assistant. Voldemort's return had been occupying his every thought, and the "jet lag" from the Time-Turner was making his reality feel thin.
He quickly moved to the dais as the class broke into quiet snickering.
"That's a first... Sean looking muddled," Ron whispered.
"He's been working too hard," Hermione said, her brow furrowed. Even with her own Time-Turner, she could never find his shadow. The "other" Sean always seemed to appear earlier and leave later than she did.
"His time is out of sync," Justin noted thoughtfully. Hermione went rigid, wondering if Justin had finally pierced their secret.
"Now!" Slughorn clapped his hands. "I've prepared a few samples for your interest. You won't be brewing these today, but a wizard should always know what perfection looks like. Who can tell me what we have here?"
He pointed to a cauldron near the Slytherin table. The liquid inside looked like plain water.
Hermione's hand was in the air before he finished the sentence.
"That is Veritaserum, sir. A colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the absolute truth."
"Excellent! Ten points to Gryffindor!" Slughorn beamed. "And this one? It's quite famous... and featured prominently in the best-selling Green's Notes..."
Hermione's hand shot up again. "Polyjuice Potion, sir."
"Superb! And finally... this one? Yes, my dear?"
"Amortentia!" Hermione cried.
"Correct! I don't even need to ask if you know what it does." Slughorn looked truly impressed.
"It is the most powerful love potion in the world," Hermione said.
"And how did you recognize it?"
"By its mother-of-pearl sheen," Hermione said excitedly, "and the way the steam rises in characteristic spirals. Also... it smells different to everyone, depending on what they find most attractive. I can smell freshly mown grass, and new parchment, and—"
She turned a brilliant shade of crimson and stopped abruptly.
"Well then!" Slughorn chuckled, seemingly missing her embarrassment. "Feel free to come up and take a sniff. Perhaps you'll find the scent of... someone special?"
Sean stayed back. He knew that the Love Room at the Department of Mysteries held a fountain of this stuff. People said if you stepped inside, you'd find your soulmate. The Ministry had to guard it against heart-sick loiterers just as much as thieves.
"What was your name again, dear?" Slughorn asked.
"Hermione Granger, sir."
"Granger? Are you related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"
"No, sir. I'm Muggle-born."
"Oho! Even better! Twenty well-deserved points for Miss Granger!" Slughorn said warmly. "Now, remember: Amortentia doesn't create actual love. That is impossible to manufacture. It creates obsession. It is perhaps the most dangerous liquid in this room."
Potions class consumed the entire afternoon. As Sean walked out of the Hope Cottage into the evening air, his silhouette seemed to overlap for a moment with a ghost-like image of himself—the version of him exiting a different hour through the Time-Turner.
Sean walked toward the dorms, his fatigue visible in the slump of his shoulders. Ever since Voldemort's return was confirmed, he had been squeezing every second out of the day. Even the walk to bed was treated as a "rest period" for the next task.
He was sleeping less. Using the Turner more. He was pushing himself to the absolute edge of magical exhaustion.
He knew a battle was coming. He had to be ready.
Under his relentless grind, Element Vitalization and Vine-Stone Guardian had reached the [Expert] level. His progress in Magical and Material Transfiguration had followed suit.
He was one Master-level achievement and one Legendary feat away from becoming a Legend of Transfiguration.
He didn't know what the title would bring, but he knew he needed it to survive what was coming.
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