Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 395 396: The Confusion Charm

The corner of Sean's mouth curled slightly as he vanished into the crowd.

They had spent the afternoon in a double period of classes. The final session was held in the greenhouses, where Professor Sprout had offered an enthusiastic critique of his Mandrake Restorative Draughts, calling them some of the finest student-made work she had seen in years. As a parting gift, she had kindly pressed a handful of melon-flavored treacle toffees into his hand.

Sean's smile lingered long after he had left the warmth of the glass walls.

As he walked, he encountered several groups of young witches, their faces flushed a deep, embarrassed scarlet. He had a fair idea of what was happening, so for the duration of his walk back to the Room of Hope, he remained under a Disillusionment Charm.

When he finally slipped into the room, Harry's face was still so red it looked ready to burst. Ron wasn't faring much better. Rumor had it that Lockhart had composed personalized songs for every student who had "assisted" in the destruction of the diary. Harry had already endured his performance; next in line for the musical interrogation was a frantic Ron.

Sean considered the situation for a moment before quietly consuming a Wampus Biscuit. His pupils narrowed into sharp, feline slits, shimmering with a deep, hypnotic luster.

"I'm never showing my face in the Great Hall again..." Ron wailed.

"Thank Merlin for Ron..." Harry muttered.

"Sean? What are you doing?"

The voice came from his side. Sean blinked as the effects of the biscuit faded. When his vision cleared, he saw Justin watching him with a look of mild confusion.

"A Soul Transfiguration exercise," Sean explained slowly.

"High-level self-transmutation?" Justin mused, nodding thoughtfully. He didn't press for more details.

Valentine's Day brought with it a series of colorful, if exhausting, events. Even though Sean preferred to keep to himself, he couldn't avoid the festive chaos entirely.

The upper-year students were practically departing in pairs for Hogsmeade, attempting to slip out of the castle only to be intercepted by Professor Snape at the oak front doors. Snowy spent the entire day perched firmly on Sean's shoulder, hooting aggressively at any delivery owl that dared to approach with a card.

Then there was the spat between Harry and Malfoy. Malfoy had been seen snapping at a girl trying to deliver a Valentine to Harry, drawling, "I don't think Potter is in the market for your cheap sentimentality!"

All in all, ignoring the over-enthusiastic young witches, it was a productive day. By nightfall, Sean had achieved a significant breakthrough: he could now perform a partial transformation of his eyes into those of a Wampus Cat.

It had been an arduous task, taking a full week of focused effort. The next step was to grind the proficiency of the Wampus Biscuits and adapt to the sensory overload of innate Legilimency.

He had stayed consistent with the former; the stats now read:

[Wampus Biscuit: Entry (600/900)]

The latter, however, required constant, real-world practice. To hide the predatory shift in his pupils, Sean had crafted a pair of alchemical "refraction lenses"—essentially invisible contact lenses.

Professor Terra was right: a true Master Alchemist could change the world. Sean was beginning to understand that on a global scale, but on a personal level—making a wizard's daily life more efficient—he was already an expert. His lenses, his Blunt Brooch, and his Wizard's Tome were prime examples of practical genius.

The night was cold and crisp. A pale, translucent moon hung high over the Forbidden Forest.

Sean walked along the edge of the woods, occasionally spotting groups of older students fleeing in various directions to avoid Snape's night patrol. Whenever they were in a state of panic or flight, Sean found their minds became significantly easier to read.

Even at his current level, he could only intercept surface-level thoughts—fragments of emotion and jagged, frantic impulses.

"Snape! Why is he always exactly where he isn't wanted!"

"I'm never agreeing to a date in the Slytherin common room again—it's bad luck!"

"That was terrifying... I wonder what they're serving for late supper in the kitchens?"

Sean positioned himself where he could catch their eyes, recording the subtle shifts in the flow of the Legilimency. He was starting to find a rhythmic pattern in the mental static.

Until—

"SEAN GREEN!"

The voice erupted in his mind like a thunderclap. His thoughts turned sluggish, and he didn't even see Professor Snape approach until the man was standing directly in front of him, his face a mask of dark fury.

"Has no one ever informed you that invading the minds of others is a remarkably dangerous pastime?!" Snape hissed.

"I wasn't aware, Professor," Sean replied. He truly hadn't expected to run into Snape out here, and no one had actually warned him.

Snape's lip curled into a sneer. He opened his mouth to deliver a further scolding, then paused, his eyes narrowing.

"Where did you learn Legilimency?!"

"I haven't learned Legilimency, Professor," Sean answered truthfully.

"Hmph—" Snape let out a sound that was half-scoff, half-laugh. He studied Sean for a long moment with a look of hidden astonishment. "Fool... your... other Animagus form?"

Sean nodded.

"Your partial transformation has already reached this degree of sophistication?" Snape went silent, his expression becoming deep and unreadable under the moonlight.

"I only just perfected it, Professor," Sean added.

"Legilimency is an art," Snape said, his voice dropping to a low, silkier tone. "A dangerous and exacting art. To ensure your dunderhead of a brain doesn't inadvertently cause a catastrophe, your detention hours are increased, starting tomorrow."

With a cold snort, Snape swept away into the shadows. After he left, another group of students returning from Hogsmeade scurried past.

Scottish wizards, it seemed, were bold and passionate during the holidays. Or rather, they were often in a state of blissful, drunken over-excitement. This was reflected in their lack of magical discipline, but Sean never joined the parties. No one could ever successfully invite him.

Just as he had before, Sean allowed his form to shimmer and fade as he walked back toward the castle.

The Room of Hope.

Justin had spent the evening carving the massive pumpkin from Hagrid into a functional, miniature library. Nearby, several pumpkin-shaped mugs were warming by the fire, the juice inside giving off a sweet, baked aroma.

Only three of them remained in the room: Hermione, Justin, and Sean.

Hermione was working day and night on the Veritaserum, her brow furrowed in intense concentration. Justin was focused on his duelling forms, his wand moving in sharp, precise arcs.

Sean, amidst his own busy schedule, listened to the steady chime of his system:

[Alert: You have practiced the construction of Wampus Biscuits at a Novice standard. Proficiency +3]

[Alert: You have practiced the construction of Wampus Biscuits at an Adept standard. Proficiency +10]

Sean let out a breath of relief just before the curfew bell. He had successfully moved on to the [Adept] level of biscuit-making. This meant his proficiency gains would accelerate significantly.

[End of Chapter 396]

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