Early morning.
The candles were all extinguished. The only faint light came from the distant horizon and the silver glow of ghosts.
"Good morning."
Out of the corner of his eye, Sean noticed the torches and lanterns in the corridor gradually lighting up.
"Morning, or night, makes no difference," the Grey Lady said, her gaze drifting into the distance.
Sean didn't reply immediately. Watching the occasional wizard pass through the corridor, he began to understand.
From this perspective, ghosts likely couldn't sleep.
Which meant that, having become ghosts, they could neither live nor die; they had no sensation. It seemed they were merely thoughts wandering the world, forever and ever, without end.
For people who had lived for centuries, death was finally rest.
But once one became a ghost, there was no longer a choice, and never a chance to rest.
Moreover, ghosts were a relatively "lower" form of existence. They couldn't eat, touch, or intervene in the world of the living. Even their thoughts were quite rudimentary.
For example, they knew that one plus one equals two, but they couldn't explain why.
Seeing everything but touching nothing; witnessing everything but intervening in nothing; experiencing everything but unable to truly reflect... To experience the ever-changing world through one's own unchanging state was an excruciating process.
It was one of the reasons few wizards chose this form of existence.
"Perhaps you should rest," Sean said.
"Green, always full of such baffling, absurd ideas."
The Grey Lady shook her head and smiled. "Call me Helena, Green. By all rights, I should dislike you, but someone like you—someone like her—I simply cannot... You have class soon, Green."
"Five minutes and twenty-three seconds left," Sean nodded and replied.
"See, I told you. You're very much like her."
The Grey Lady gazed at Sean.
Only when facing a student would she mention that person, daring to recall everything related to her.
"You are too."
Sean naturally thought of Ravenclaw, who had said the same thing.
Always full of absurd ideas...
"Hah..."
The Grey Lady naturally didn't believe him.
How could a shameful traitor have any connection to a great name like Ravenclaw?
She gazed at the distant snowy mountains—tall, covered in snow, pure and white.
Her grey eyes gradually dimmed.
"I think, Miss Helena, that you can only truly embark on that path when Lady Ravenclaw acknowledges the betrayal.
Until then, no amount of blame matters," Sean said slowly.
Of course, on any moral level, the betrayal was an established fact.
Perhaps there was no longer a place in this world for Helena Ravenclaw.
But, aside from Rowena Ravenclaw, who could judge her soul?
They were just... outsiders.
"Green..."
Helena smiled, dazed. "I've never seen you talk so much, or be so interesting. It reminds me of Tom Riddle from many years ago.
Perhaps there is some truth to what you say. It does give my shameful existence a moment of respite. But Green, I thank you, and please, do not trouble yourself over my affairs."
She politely declined, as Sean had expected.
"Miss Helena," Sean said.
Helena sighed softly and looked at him again. No matter how much he disturbed her, he was never annoying.
It was a strange thing.
"If you are willing to listen to some stories..." Sean began.
"I won't refuse you, Green. You know this. But please, don't push your luck."
Helena floated away. "By the way, you have one minute left."
Would Sean ever be late for class?
That would be a very difficult feat to achieve, roughly as likely as a troll defeating Dumbledore.
So, when Sean arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, not all the students had taken their seats yet.
Still, it was a bit unusual, as Sean was accustomed to arriving early.
As the Hogwarts students would say, you could find every quality needed to master magic in Mr. Green.
Minerva McGonagall's gaze lingered on him for a moment before she announced the topic of today's Transfiguration lesson: turning a white rabbit into a slipper.
The young wizards immediately got busy.
BANG!
A loud explosion erupted behind Sean. Seamus's wand had slipped from his hand, causing one of the desk legs to blow up.
Professor McGonagall waved her wand, restoring the leg and reattaching it. She then turned around, instinctively looking toward Sean.
He was quietly practicing Transfiguration. Time and time again, dozens of white rabbits appeared on the snowy grounds of the castle outside the window.
Even though his Transfiguration skills were already advanced, he lacked the impatient ambition often found in geniuses.
Or perhaps, only a wizard like this could truly be called a genius?
Minerva McGonagall was satisfied and turned to instruct the practicing students one by one.
"Decisive wand movements! You must have a clear image in your mind..." she said sternly.
"Excellent, everyone! Look here, Mr. Weasley has succeeded!"
Ron? Harry, sitting next to him, had never imagined Ron would stand out like this.
The class broke into a buzz of chatter, heads craning to look at Ron.
"Take a close look—no ears on the slipper. Very good Transfiguration, Mr. Weasley," she added.
Ron blushed. Professor McGonagall's words sounded very familiar, just like something Sean would say:
"Ron, you succeeded. Very good Transfiguration. Hmm, I think you're quite good at this. That's [Journeyman] level."
Sometimes Ron felt Sean's standards were strict. Bringing an inanimate object to life only counted as "Intermediate Transfiguration."
And making that "living object" run around for three minutes only counted as [Journeyman].
But when he thought about how Sean could make the ground in the Chamber of Secrets cave in to trap a fifty-foot Basilisk, Ron felt it was justified.
Aside from the squeaks and chirps of various animals, the Transfiguration classroom was filled with exclamations surrounding Ron.
In the center of the praise, Ron couldn't help but look at Sean, who was practicing diligently. Where his gaze landed, dozens of snow rabbits were hopping about.
---
After class, with a tap of his wand, Sean shrank the Book of Wizards into a pendant and quickly left the classroom.
But at the door, he was blocked.
"Sean..."
Ron displayed a bashfulness that was unlike him.
Behind him, Hermione and Harry had curiously hidden themselves to eavesdrop.
"Yeah."
Sean glanced behind Ron and stopped.
"I've wanted to say this for a long time..."
Ron looked like he was throwing caution to the wind. "You know, I thought I could never be like... Fred and the others.
Oh, but you set up those Transfiguration standards, helped us practice, and shared the most detailed notes...
I don't know how to say it. I thought I couldn't do anything, but your standards stopped me from fumbling around in confusion... Yeah, that's what I wanted to say most.
Without those standards, a part of me... would be lost forever."