Chapter 466: Exam Week

Wizard Sean felt Roger might be right, but did the magical world even have mercenaries?

“Quidditch always makes people feel younger, don’t you think?”

Dumbledore smiled warmly, glancing casually at Minerva, whose eyes were nearly brimming with tears.

“Perhaps you are right.”

Wizard Sean took the tilted trophy; the massive object nearly struck him on the head.

“Oh, be careful.”

Dumbledore extended his hand, beaming.

Behind him, the professors were all laughing heartily.

Wizard Sean felt embarrassed and struggled away, holding the trophy aloft.

Dumbledore looked utterly delighted, chatting with Minerva about her own past Quidditch matches.

“Minerva, I recall you never thought the trophy was heavy back then.”

Dumbledore sighed.

“Albus, the trophy back then hadn’t been made heavier by you.”

Minerva shot him a glance, then suppressed her excitement as she stared at the small wizard, swaying under the trophy, surrounded by others.

Having finally won the Quidditch Cup, Ravenclaw’s excitement lasted at least a week.

Even the weather seemed to celebrate. As June approached, days grew clear and cloudless, hot enough to make one want to carry a few pints of chilled pumpkin juice to the pitch, plop down, and perhaps play a few rounds of Gobstones or watch the Giant Squid drift dreamily across the Black Lake.

On the edge of the Black Black Lake that day, Roger was rubbing his hands in excitement.

“Green, you mean…”

“Yes, it produces illusions from within your heart—but remember, they are only illusions.”

Wizard Sean said.

In his hand was a deep black stone, its surface marked by a straight line representing the Elder Wand, and the triangle and circle symbolizing the Invisibility Cloak and the Stone still clearly visible.

Wizard Sean instinctively concealed the pattern.

The Resurrection Stone, rather than fulfilling a wizard’s desire, lured him toward death.

For a wizard with a sound mind and few regrets, it allows a glimpse of a loved one’s illusion;

but for those in deep anguish, it is Death’s messenger, sent to entice the wizard toward oblivion.

So Wizard Sean chose several “relatively happy” wizards from the Ravenclaw Quidditch team—ones who wouldn’t recognize the concealed Resurrection Stone or be lured by its summoned phantoms.

“It’s a special alchemical artifact, Captain Davis—handle it with care.”

Wizard Sean handed the Resurrection Stone over.

“Just summon some illusions—just don’t make it a rat—”

Roger Davis laughed, yet still proceeded cautiously.

He closed his eyes and turned the stone three times in his palm.

Soon, results came: both Wizard Sean and Roger heard faint rustling nearby, as if delicate bodies were stepping across the muddy soil beneath the Black Lake-side branches.

Roger realized they were neither ghosts nor living flesh.

They were more like… nearly solidified memories.

Not as tangible as living bodies, yet far more real than ghosts.

They approached Roger, each face wearing the same tender smile.

“Grandpa…”

Roger exclaimed in surprise.

But Wizard Sean saw nothing.

“Only I can see you?”

Roger glanced at Wizard Sean and asked.

“Others can’t see them, because you’re part of me—I think I understand…”

Roger seemed to murmur to himself.

Wizard Sean knew the solidified memories had appeared.

Roger excitedly spoke at length to his grandfather—the one Wizard Sean couldn’t see.

After an hour, Roger wiped his eyes.

“What a marvelous creation!”

Roger still looked incredulous as he stared at Wizard Sean.

“Could you help me describe it in detail?”

Wizard Sean asked.

Roger didn’t seem affected at all.

Did this prove that, for happy wizards, the Resurrection Stone wasn’t as agonizing as imagined?

“Of course—”

Roger was eager,

“I knew it was an illusion, but it was so real—he felt exactly like my grandfather’s true soul. Yet he seemed emotionless; my grandfather would’ve laughed himself silly hearing I won the double crown…”

…

For many days, Wizard Sean tested the Resurrection Stone’s effects.

Members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team repeatedly encountered deceased relatives by the Black Black Lake.

Their descriptions helped Wizard Sean complete an important task:

understanding the Resurrection Stone—and clearly realizing he possessed this legendary alchemical artifact.

Each summer day grew more pleasant.

Wizards longed to lie on the grass and bask in the sun all day.

But they couldn’t. Exams loomed; students had to stay inside the castle, forcing their minds to concentrate while enticing summer breezes drifted through the windows.

Only a few wizards moved freely—like the well-known Mr. Green of Ravenclaw.

He occasionally appeared in the castle, calmly and steadily busy.

Sometimes, Ravenclaw students would burst into tears and cling to him, babbling nonsense about wanting to test the stone again.

But soon, wizards had no time to care.

Exam Week had begun; the castle fell eerily silent.

At lunch on Monday, second-year students emerged from their Transfiguration exam, drained and pale, comparing scores and complaining about the difficulty—especially the question that required them to turn a teapot into a turtle.

Hermione gasped that her turtle looked like a sea turtle, infuriating others, since they considered it trivial.

“My turtle’s tail was still the spout—how terrifying…”

“Should a turtle steam?”

“My turtle’s shell had willow patterns—do you think I’ll lose points?”

Wizard Sean was the last to enter the exam room; Minerva was gazing at him gently.

“This is simple for you, but I hope you don’t underestimate such practice.”

Minerva said.

There were exactly ten students in the room; Wizard Sean saw Jia Jia Siting, Neville, and Ron.

“Begin the exam—”

No sooner had Minerva spoken than Ron finished first; though sweaty, he looked relaxed.

“Good.”

Minerva commented.

Then came Jia Jia Siting, Harry, Neville… all exited the room, but Wizard Sean remained lost in thought.

He raised his hand—unexpectedly, no wand was there.

Minerva subtly sensed something, watching him silently.

After two months of memory integration, Wizard Sean no longer merely mastered wandless spells—he now lightly tapped his finger against the turtle.

The turtle began its wondrous transformation.