Chapter 401: Standard Transfiguration

Dawn.

All candles were extinguished; only the distant horizon and the silver ghosts emitted faint light.

“Good morning.”

Wizard Sean’s peripheral vision noticed the torches and lanterns along the corridor gradually lighting up.

“Morning or night—it makes no difference.”

Lady Grey’s gaze drifted toward the distance.

Wizard Sean did not reply immediately; his peripheral vision caught occasional wizards passing through the corridor, and he began to understand.

It seemed ghosts could not sleep.

That is, after becoming a ghost, they could not be born, could not die, had no sensation—merely thoughts wandering the world, endlessly, without end.

For those who had lived for centuries, death was finally rest.

But once a ghost, there was no choice, no rest ever again.

And ghosts were a relatively “inferior” existence: they could not eat, could not touch, could not interfere with the living world, and even their thoughts were extremely primitive.

For example, they knew one plus one equaled two, but could not explain why.

Seeing everything yet touching nothing, witnessing all events yet interfering with none, experiencing all yet unable to think… enduring one’s own unchanging existence while observing the endless changes of others—that was an excruciating process.

It was also one reason few wizards chose this form of existence.

“Perhaps you should rest.”

Wizard Sean said.

“Green, you always have absurd thoughts that leave people speechless.”

Lady Grey shook her head and smiled.

“Call me Helena, Green. Logically, I ought to hate you—but people like you, like her… I simply cannot… You have class, Green.”

“Five minutes and twenty-three seconds left.”

Wizard Sean nodded and replied.

“Hmm, I see—you’re very much like her.”

Lady Grey stared at Wizard Sean.

Only when facing young wizards did she ever mention that person, only then did she dare recall anything connected to her.

“You too.”

Wizard Sean naturally thought of Ravenclaw—she had said the same thing.

Always absurd thoughts…

“Heh…”

Lady Grey, of course, did not believe it.

A shameful traitor—how could she possibly be linked to the great name of Ravenclaw?

She gazed at the distant snow-capped mountains, tall and pure, covered in white snow.

Her gray eyes gradually dimmed.

“I think only when Lady Ravenclaw acknowledges the betrayal will Miss Helena truly set foot on this path.

Until then, all blame is meaningless.”

Wizard Sean said slowly.

Of course, on any moral level, betrayal had already become an established fact.

Perhaps the world had no place left for Helena Ravenclaw.

Yet, besides Rowena Ravenclaw, who could judge her soul?

They were merely… outsiders.

“Green…”

Helena smiled dazedly.

“I’ve never seen you speak so much, so vividly—it reminds me of Tom Riddle many years ago.

Perhaps you’re right, and you’ve indeed given my shameful existence a moment’s respite—but Green, I thank you, and please don’t trouble yourself over my affairs.”

She declined, and Wizard Sean had expected it.

“Miss Helena.”

Wizard Sean said.

Helena sighed softly and looked at him again; even though he disturbed her constantly, he was never annoying.

It was a strange thing.

“If you’d care to hear a story…”

Wizard Sean said again.

“I won’t refuse you, Green—you know that—but don’t keep pushing your luck.”

Helena drifted away.

“By the way, you have one minute left.”

Would Wizard Sean be late for class?

It was an extremely difficult thing—harder than a troll defeating Dumbledore.

So when Wizard Sean arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, the young wizards had not all taken their seats.

Yet this was somewhat strange, since Wizard Sean always arrived early.

In the words of Hogwarts students, you could find every quality needed to master magic in Mr. Green.

Minerva McGonagall’s gaze lingered on him briefly, then announced the day’s Transfiguration lesson:

Transform a white rabbit into a slipper.

The young wizards immediately got to work.

“Boom!”

A loud crash came from behind Wizard Sean; Seamus’s wand slipped from his hand, causing one leg of his desk to explode.

Professor McGonagall waved her own wand, restoring and reattaching the desk leg, then turned and instinctively glanced at Wizard Sean.

He practiced Transfiguration quietly, repeatedly summoning dozens of white rabbits onto the snow outside the castle windows.

Even though his Transfiguration skill had long advanced, he showed none of the impatience typical of a prodigy.

Or perhaps, only such a wizard could truly be called a prodigy?

Minerva McGonagall was satisfied, and began guiding the students one by one.

“Gestures must be decisive; your mind must hold a clear intention…”

She said sternly.

“Very good, everyone—you can see Mr. Weasley has succeeded!”

Ron? Harry, beside him, had never imagined Ron could ever stand out like this.

Classmates began chattering; the classroom buzzed as everyone craned their necks toward Ron.

“You may observe closely—the slipper has no ears. Excellent Transfiguration, Mr. Weasley.”

She added.

Ron’s face flushed; Professor McGonagall’s words sounded familiar—like something Wizard Sean would say:

“Ron, you’ve succeeded. Excellent Transfiguration. Hmm, I think you’re quite good at this. You’re a [Skilled Practitioner].”

Sometimes Ron felt Wizard Sean’s standards were too strict: bringing a lifeless object to life was merely considered “Intermediate Transfiguration.”

Making that “living thing” scurry around for three minutes was only rated [Skilled Practitioner].

But then he remembered Wizard Sean making the Chamber’s ground sink and trapping a fifteen-meter-long Basilisk—and he understood.

In the Transfiguration classroom, besides the chirping of various animals, the loudest sounds were the exclamations surrounding Ron.

At the center of the admiration, Ron unconsciously glanced at Wizard Sean, who was practicing intently—dozens of snow rabbits hopping and leaping where his gaze fell.

…

After class, Wizard Sean tapped his wand; the Wizard’s Book shrank rapidly into a pendant, and he quickly left the classroom.

But at the classroom door, he was blocked.

“Wizard Sean…”

Ron displayed an uncharacteristic awkwardness.

Behind him, Hermione and Harry had already hidden themselves, eavesdropping.

“Hmm.”

Wizard Sean glanced at Ron’s back, then stopped.

“I’ve wanted to say this for a long time…”

Ron seemed to have made up his mind.

“You know, I always thought I’d never be like… Fred and George.

Oh, but you set the Transfiguration standards, helped us practice, and shared your most detailed notes…

I don’t know how to say it—I thought I could never do anything, but your standards stopped me from stumbling blindly… That’s exactly what I wanted to express.

Without these standards, a part of me would have remained lost forever.”