Hogwarts Study Panel

Chapter 153: Roland

"My lord—"

Mischievous Ghost ran around everywhere, but eventually got cornered.

"I was wrong, my lord! Please forgive Mischief this once—"

Barrow the Blood Man just stared at it until its heart-wrenching cries ended, then it tentatively asked:

"That little wizard—oh—that Grimm!"

Blood Man Barrow stared at it coldly for a long while before leaving.

Leaving Mischievous Ghost behind, he cheered up and skipped upstairs, humming a song.
"Oh—a mere little wizard, not to be trifled with—"

As it walked, it loosened the carpet on the stairs, trying to make someone slip and fall.

……

In the corridor, Sheen knocked on the door of the Transfiguration office and heard an unusually soft voice say, "Come in, I...child."

He pushed open the door, and the professor waved his wand, causing all the scattered letters to jump into the envelopes on their own.

"Good afternoon, Professor."

Sheehan placed his notebook on the desk. For the professor, the happiest thing was seeing his students make progress.

So he kept a record of his insights and learning progress, and unsurprisingly, the professor was indeed very satisfied with this.

December brought even more snow, and looking in through the outside window, one could probably see an incredibly fantastical scene.

A beetle suddenly transformed into an owl, which flew out of the window and spread its wings against the wind.

Its wings swept over the frosty tower spire, gliding steadily through the wind and snow, a scroll of parchment clutched between its claws, before finally disappearing from Sheen and Professor McGonagall's sight.

After a short while, it flew in through another window with a "coo-coo-coo" sound, the letter it carried on its paws still covered in snow.

[You have practiced an advanced Transfiguration spell to a proficient standard. Proficiency +300]

Sheen stroked the owl's feathers, then waved his wand, and the owl transformed into a small beetle, spreading its transparent wings and flying to a spot not far from the fireplace.

Sheen once again recorded his insights; he was always adept at Transfiguration.

His eyes gleamed, and he waved his wand again.

[You have practiced an advanced Transfiguration spell to a proficient standard. Proficiency +300]

[You have practiced an advanced Transfiguration spell to a proficient standard. Proficiency +300]

……

What he failed to notice was that, as he performed Transfiguration more frequently, Professor McGonagall's hand holding the letter was trembling slightly.

"I should have known..."

Her voice was weak, like her dim eyes every time she was in a corner.

...He never gives anyone cause for worry.

Taking a sip of the honey lemon tea from the Transfiguration Office, Sheen's fatigue slowly began to fade away.

After his body had recovered most of its strength, his fatigue was no longer as severe as before, and he recovered very quickly.

He had mastered the Transfiguration technique of transforming "living things" into "living things" at the advanced stage. Next, he only needed to follow Professor Terra's book to perform runic engraving, and he would have completed all the preparations.

The better news is that Leon accidentally gave him a sample, which gave him a control example.

Sheehan then thought of the Weasleys, who must be selling canary cookies... which led to Bruce reaping what he sowed.

After leaving the Transfiguration classroom, Sheen decided to go to the library to find some ancient runic books. He had finished reading the books that Professor Terra had given him, but he felt that something was still missing.

After all, even Professor Terra didn't give him a very high goal, as can be seen from the strength of the Roaring Letter.

But the professor seemed to have higher expectations, which is why he let him choose something to practice on.

What Sheehan didn't know was that even the Weasley twins' canary cookies were engraved with the professor's help. And Sheehan?
He plans to do it himself.

As soon as Sheehan stepped into the corridor, the Fat Lady and Lady Violet surrounded him, looking at him with cautious, expectant eyes.

It struck him as very strange.

"Madam Fat, Madam Violet."

He greeted them politely.

“Oh, oh, of course! Little Green, you and Roland Taylor, oh no! I mean Little Green…”

The plump lady seemed very nervous and stammered.

"Let's go! Fat woman, you really didn't realize it!"

Mrs. Violet quickly pulled the fat lady away.

Roland Taylor?

This was the second time Sheen had heard this name.

Taylor...

He paused, lost in thought, pondering the surname.

After a long while, he carefully took out the letter from his bag, with a withered violet pressed against one corner.

His memories then flowed back to the previous winter, and nothing particularly memorable happened.

He had only been bedridden for three months, barely managing to get through the winter despite his serious illness.

Sometimes, a person's willpower is so great that it can grant a body that should have died the possibility of stubbornly living on.

Three months later, he heard a "ding" from the control panel and was finally able to get out of bed.

The kind old lady who volunteered took care of him at that time.

The evening light in December diffused across Professor McGonagall's square glasses, reflecting the dying embers in the fireplace.

She lowered her hand, the letter she had just read trembling between her fingers, the ink on the parchment gleaming in the fireplace.

The quill rested beside Sheen's open notebook, halfway through its annotations. Her gaze fell on the framed photo on the corner of the table—something she had never considered, something she had never known…

Outside the window, the snow fell even more heavily, and the winds of the Scottish Highlands howled past the castle towers.

She took off her glasses and gently pressed her fingertips against the bridge of her nose. When she looked up again, her usually sharp eyes were filled with a rare glimmer of tears, shattering the leaping flames in them into a gentle yet painful shower of sparks.

The warm, empty tabletop was covered only with a silver kitten figurine and a pile of letters.

The contents of the letter were neither short nor long, but they felt as heavy as a boulder falling in the snow.

I'm sorry, Ms. McGonagall, you know, orphanages don't take care of children that sick... it's not in the men's interest.

He was very well-behaved for three months. Thank God he survived. Madam, I didn't mean to mention it, but he was a very obedient child. If you are not going to adopt him, please don't send him back to the orphanage. I can't do much, but I've sent you fifty pounds and a cotton coat. Please accept them.

Five pounds can buy a ticket to St. Catherine's Dock; please give him the remaining five pounds for me.

The boy told my mother that he could survive if he had a thick coat and five pounds.

I am speechless.

I am poor, lowly, and plain, but when my soul passes through the grave, my heart will be far lighter than a feather.

May God deliver everything into His hands.

　Thank you to book friend 20240203103124349 for the generous donation of "Live Fish Three Ways"!

　　Thank you, Thunderous Silly Lord!

　　There will be three updates tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM and four updates at 10:30 PM (bonus update for the Alliance Leader).

　　
　
(End of this chapter)