Chapter 101

Wizard Sean felt that Harry and Ron were overly sincere.

“Yes.”

Ron’s face flushed red as he braced himself, desperate to copy homework.

Harry also nervously lowered his head.

“Mm.”

Wizard Sean nodded.

Professor Snape was still waiting for him in the dungeon; though Harry and Ron had indeed surprised him, he had no intention of wasting time here.

“He’s nothing like we imagined,”

after a brief pause, Ron’s delight shone across his face,

“Mr. Green is… oh, at least not Percy, nor Hermione. I’ve got Green’s notes to study—Merlin, this is wonderful…”

As Wizard Sean was leaving, Harry remembered Wood’s words—reminding him to subtly find out if Wizard Sean had joined the Quidditch team.

But he simply couldn’t bring himself to ask; for the sake of Gryffindor’s Quidditch Cup, he had to say something.

So—

“Wizard Sean, you—”

Harry suddenly spoke, and Wizard Sean turned his head.

At that moment, Harry’s mind went blank; he was certain he couldn’t ask.

He had just been forgiven, and now he was about to pry into Ravenclaw’s Quidditch tactics—he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

But he had to say something, so when he spotted Neville and Jia Jia Siting in the distance, he blurted out:

“Can you teach us some spells? Like Neville?”

Though spoken on impulse, it wasn’t entirely nonsense—he had been struggling with his homework for a long time.

After all, Wood demanded they devote every minute to Quidditch training; he had no idea how to finish so much homework.

But what surprised him even more was that after a brief pause, Wizard Sean actually nodded.

On the way back to the Great Hall,

Harry and Ron fell silent for a long while.

They stared at the notebooks as if they were priceless treasures.

“Harry… I was wrong, terribly wrong—Wizard Sean is practically Professor Sprout’s twin. Oh—Merlin, why didn’t we find him sooner.”

Ron groaned,

“From now on, I won’t tolerate a single bad word about Wizard Sean…”

Harry watched the completely won-over Ron and nodded in quiet agreement.

…

At the end of the corridor, Wizard Sean walked, lost in thought.

Harry had surprised him more than once; though unexpected, Wizard Sean was glad to help him.

As Wizard Sean walked down the corridor and saw the thin boy with the broken glasses and lightning-shaped scar, he suddenly understood something.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived—he had never chosen to become the “Chosen One,” yet as an infant he had lost his parents to Voldemort’s curse.

He grew up in a corner of the Dursleys’ home, where even a decent birthday gift was a luxury.

His scar—the magical world saw as a badge of honor—Wizard Sean saw as a mark of attempted murder.

Harry’s fate had never truly belonged to him.

Trelawney’s prophecy may have destined his bond with Voldemort, but what truly made Harry an “hero” were his repeated, conscious choices:

In his first year, he faced Voldemort and chose to protect the Philosopher’s Stone; in the Chamber of Secrets, he risked his life to save Ginny; in the Triwizard Tournament, he insisted on bringing Cedric’s body back to Hogwarts…

A person’s worth is never measured by the glory they bring, but by whether they deserve fair treatment.

Harry Potter is not merely the orphan of a martyr—he is, above all, someone who deserves favor.

Once he understood this, Wizard Sean could no longer take Harry’s sacrifices for granted; where he could, he was happy to offer Harry help.

He knew it was trivial help, insignificant compared to Harry’s long, arduous years at Hogwarts.

But Wizard Sean didn’t care.

The dungeon.

Professor Snape had been waiting a long time.

He always stood in the shadows; Wizard Sean couldn’t see his face.

But if Wizard Sean made even one wrong move, he would mercilessly sneer—and worse, like yesterday, it would be a storm of fury.

Preparing ingredients, lighting the cauldron, controlling the heat…

His beginner-level proficiency in Swelling Potion made his movements fluid and precise; after finishing this batch, he would begin brewing Swelling Potion.

Of the three potions he had learned, Swelling Potion was the only one still unmastered.

Once Swelling Potion was mastered, a new potion title would unlock immediately.

Wizard Sean couldn’t help but feel anticipation.

Apprentice-level titles slightly enhance perception or innate talent in a magical branch; at the mastered level, perception increases dramatically.

Perception is the ability to observe and measure; in potion-making, it helps Wizard Sean record a potion’s state and quality with greater precision, adjusting his technique accordingly.

White mist rose again in the dungeon; Professor Snape’s dark eyes held an inexplicable complexity.

He was certain the potion’s quality had changed, yet the method used by this Green was utterly unfamiliar to him.

He had no interest in understanding it—but that didn’t mean he’d tolerate this young wizard recklessly innovating in potion-making.

Did he think potion-making was like that stupid Quidditch? A sport with tactics unchanged for decades!

So he fixed his gaze on the young wizard:

Hmph—just don’t turn the dungeon into a mess.

【You brewed a Swelling Potion at beginner level. Proficiency +3】

Brewing Swelling Potion was second nature; though he used no modified ritual or guidance method, Wizard Sean had produced a 【mastered】-level potion, very close to 【skilled】.

Progress was slow, but steady and firm.

After extinguishing the cauldron and storing the potion in a glass cabinet—into a shelf labeled “Wizard Sean’s trash,” as Snape had put it—Wizard Sean pulled out his notebook.

“Too vigorous stirring. Increase heat when adding the second ingredient… Wizard Sean Green, hah—such talent, and you dare alter potion rituals?!”

Professor Snape’s daily sneers.

Wizard Sean ignored the second half and wrote down the first half in his notebook.

His emerald eyes glinted faintly—he had found the final piece to reach skilled level.

The key difference between skilled and mastered is that skilled-level potions meet market standards.

Another steady income,

Wizard Sean thought.

He placed the notebook on the wooden table in the dungeon and turned to gather materials from the glass cabinet.

Dried nettle, pufferfish eyes, bat spleens—all on the left side of the second row…

Time slipped away in the dungeon’s chill wind,

When Wizard Sean had tidied everything on the table, he walked silently into the shadows.