Verifying the idea wouldn't be all that hard.
If [Wisdom] was really just an extension of a wizard's inner [Order], then reality itself ought to bend to match whatever order lived inside the wizard's heart.
Which meant if Sean could take an existing spell, reshape its power, and discover brand-new external laws to go with it, he'd have proof: the wizard's path depended far more on inner Order than on outside Wisdom.
Take Lumos, for example. Keep the same pronunciation, the same wrist flick, but force the charm to become something closer to a blinding spotlight. Then hunt down fresh incantations, runes, and gestures that actually fit a true Bright Light curse. If he pulled that off, it would show the wizard wasn't meekly following the world's rules—he was rewriting them.
Yeah, it would be brutally difficult. Probably flat-out impossible. Maybe even completely wrong.
None of that touched Sean's excitement. Digging into magic's deeper secrets always left a wizard's blood humming.
He felt that old, electric pull again—the same rush he got at two in the morning buried in Liberius Borage's forbidden tomes, chasing the call of power most people would never touch. The endless march of wizardkind, always pushing forward, never satisfied.
His quill stopped. The roast lamb in front of him was still steaming.
Sean let out a long breath and finally glanced at today's paper.
"Master Scamander Breaks Years of Silence—New Book Announced! Merlin's beard, how can you call yourself a fan if you missed this?"
A bad feeling settled in his stomach. He pulled the Prophet closer. There was Newt in the moving photograph, giving that shy, awkward little smile he always wore when the world was watching.
The magical wireless on the long table crackled to life. Sean sometimes used it to tinker with blending magic and Muggle tech; right now it was doing what it did best—spilling celebrity dirt.
The Weird Sisters had been mobbed by fans at Durmstrang. Celestina Warbeck's latest single, "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love," was being called out for plagiarism…
But when the wireless switched to real news, it was always the story everyone would be talking about for weeks.
Last time Sean had heard something big on it was right after the International Alchemy Conference—the whole wizarding world buzzing one name.
The time before that, it had been Lockhart's arrest. The second Defense professor was still rotting away in distant Azkaban.
Now the wireless spoke again.
"Is this going to be your final book, Mr. Scamander?"
A woman's voice, barely holding back excitement.
"…Yes."
Sean recognized it in half a heartbeat—shy old Hufflepuff upperclassman Newt.
"You just said…"
"Gods might actually exist."
"What an astonishing claim! If gods exist, what do they look like?"
"A black cat."
Sean stared for a second, then reached over and quietly switched the wireless off.
He looked up. The high table had gone completely silent.
"Why not leave it on?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling.
"If you'd like, Professor."
Sean set the wireless back down. Dumbledore's smile grew even warmer.
The scene was almost funny: one very uncomfortable second-year wizard, a circle of ancient professors leaning in with open interest, all huddled around the little radio like it was the most fascinating thing in the castle.
Some were genuinely curious about Newt Scamander, legendary Magizoologist. Others… definitely not.
"A black cat? What kind of black cat?"
The wireless kept rolling.
"Black. Just… black."
"Mm…"
Sean could hear the host fighting laughter.
"Witches and wizards, Mr. Scamander has boldly declared that our god is a black cat…"
The host had to be professionally trained, otherwise she'd have cracked by now.
"No."
"Pardon?"
"The god isn't a black cat—that's simply how it appears. And it might not even be a god at all. Perhaps it's only an extraordinarily powerful magical creature.
Our view of it is like Muggles trying to understand magical beasts. They can't grasp magic, so they can't grasp magical creatures.
We can't grasp greater magic, so we can't grasp gods."
"You mean…"
"Not long ago I met it the same way I met powerful creatures as a boy.
If I'd been the first wizard to discover a Portkey bird, I'd have called it a god that could teleport at will. If I'd been the first to see a Demiguise, I'd have called it a god that could vanish whenever it pleased."
"So when exactly did you meet it?"
The host sounded hooked now, a little nervous.
"When I needed it most. Tell me, Ms. Skeeter—you dream, don't you?"
"Of course, Mr. Scamander. I had a lovely one just last night."
"Dreams make the impossible real. In dreams we can even cross the line between life and death. That's how I met it.
I crossed death's boundary under its guidance and went on a great adventure.
I've written it all down, and I call it:
Ruler of Dreams and Mist, Bridge between Life and Death, Symbol of Eternal Good Fortune—"
Newt paused.
"What's its name?"
The host asked, tense and eager.
"I never asked."
"Oh! Mr. Scamander!"
Even the professional host couldn't hold it together this time.
"But I call it Bastet. I hope it likes the name."
…
The wireless went quiet after that.
Not because the interview ended—because Sean had already slipped out of the Great Hall.
He never imagined Newt would go straight home and actually write the damn book.
Right now he felt exactly like the fisherman who'd stumbled into the hidden paradise—only to realize he desperately wished he'd never been allowed inside.
"Dear Bastet?"
In the corridor the old wizard passed him with a chuckle.
"Oh, dear Bastet—Merlin, what a delightful name. I simply must write him a letter…"
Even after Dumbledore disappeared around the corner, his laughter still floated back down the stone hallway.
Sean sighed and unfolded the Prophet again.
He still had important things to check.
The Daily Prophet had given massive front-page space to every angle of Newt's incredible adventure. Everything else was crammed into the smaller columns.
Sean read carefully until he found the one he'd been waiting for.
Ministry Employee Wins Grand Prize
Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won this year's Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Award.