Hogwarts Study Panel.

Chapter 86, Section 85: The Harvest

Twelve hundred gold galleons? !

How come he remembers it as a different number?

"Oh, please accept it, child—"

Seemingly anticipating Sheen's confusion, a note floated out of the bag.

Sheen looked up and saw Dumbledore winking at him.

Hogwarts is really rich and powerful. Sheen silently put away the bag. This was also a valuable item. Due to the use of harpy skin and complex alchemy, its price has always remained high.

Sheen's little black bag is now overflowing with wealth:

A seamless expansion pouch containing 1,200 Galleons, some notes of knowledge from the greatest apothecaries, and a yellowed but durable letter.

Sheen had never felt her steps so light. Golden light streamed through the huge windows and poured onto the ancient stone walls, the warmth almost palpable.

The animated portraits on the walls were also busy: a wizard wearing a wig dozed off in a frame, a buzzing bee perched on his hat; in the frame next door, a noblewoman and her pet cat hummed an off-key song along with a frene playing a flute in a landscape painting.

Until a reckless rider grabbed a pony and charged out a path:

"Little Green!"

Sheen stopped in her tracks when she heard the familiar voice.

"Thank you for your help, Sir."

"Not worth mentioning—"

The jazz seemed to have heard something he wanted to hear, and left humming a little tune.

The plump lady nearby chuckled softly:

"Jazz—it can't help but show off—"

Lady Violet, still slightly blushing, said nothing, only looking at the knight with bright eyes. He couldn't climb the pony again, but everyone knew that when you need a noble heart and a strong body, a knight will surely appear.

Just as the canvas of the Fat Lady's portrait was slashed to pieces by the manic fugitive Sirius Black with a knife, only Sir Cadogan bravely volunteered to become the new guard of Gryffindor Tower.

During the final battle at Hogwarts, he also accompanied Harry as he ran alongside him, cheering him on and preparing him to fight to the very end, all through the portraits on the walls.

A noble spirit, a strong physique, and fearless courage—

As Sheehan watched the jazz leave, a complex and intense emotion filled his heart.

He started walking again, faster and faster, until finally the wind whistled past his ears.

In Sheen's destination, inside the Transfiguration classroom, Minerva McGonagall watched for a long time as the young wizard drew ever closer.

A hint of relief flashed in her eyes, but her brows remained furrowed for a moment, and finally, her stern face was filled with only profound contemplation.

As dusk fell, a few ravens flew by, drowning out Professor McGonagall's whispers.

As October arrives, the weather grows colder, the rain increases, and the nights become even darker, but the mud, gales, and downpours cannot extinguish the warm flames in the fireplace.

When Sheen jogged over, her deep features softened:

"There's no Transfiguration practice today, so get some rest, Mr. Green."

After she finished speaking, she keenly noticed the corners of Sheen's mouth turning up unconsciously. Her voice was gentle yet powerful, "Life is a long road, and you will experience many hardships along the way, Mr. Green."

So whatever you do, you must keep that hopeful smile on your face.

In the Transfiguration classroom.

Minerva McGonagall hadn't written a letter in a long time, and this time, she wanted to visit the orphanage called Holliss.

Her eyes were slightly lowered, but her hands never stopped moving.

"Minerva, it's been so long since you wrote to me—"

Dumbledore appeared in the classroom at some point. Unusually, he didn't tease, and his tone was full of kindness and a barely perceptible...probing?

Professor McGonagall paused, and the floating quill pen stopped for a moment:

"Forgive me, Albus, unless you, like me, have seen with your own eyes that barren soil, that child, gritting his teeth and walking a long way—"

A lonely child, a child without a family, a child who emerged from a cold winter and barren soil, a child with a thousand reasons to complain and be crooked.

She saw nothing in that frail body except a tenacious and kind soul.

Outside the window, a torrential downpour began, and the sky had darkened as if coated with a sticky black potion, but inside the room, it was bright and cheerful.

The firelight illuminated countless soft armchairs where people sat reading, chatting, and doing their homework.

Fred and George Weasley, the Lee brothers, are researching what would happen if they fed a fire lizard some firecrackers.

Fred "rescued" the bright orange lizard from the Magical Creatures class, where it now lay smoldering on a table, surrounded by a group of curious onlookers.

Amidst curious glances, Sheen was taking a strange note out of his bag. His usually neat handwriting had inexplicably become crooked and messy. Only when Sheen looked at it from a different angle did the dog-scratched writing become normal.

Dear Mr. Green:

I was both pleased to learn of your request from Minerva and touched by your passion for knowledge.

Honeydukes' Lemon Sorbet may be incredibly sweet, but a persistent thirst for knowledge is what truly illuminates the magical world.

I have carefully considered your request to stay on campus for the summer. I am pleased to inform you, Mr. Green, that permission to stay on campus is subject to the following conditions:

First, you need to maintain an excellent level of magic; this will be the most important criterion for judgment.

You will need handwritten letters of recommendation from at least three instructors (including the dean of the college) to prove that you are not only exceptionally talented, but also responsible and a team player.

You need at least one special contribution: whether it's assisting Mrs. Pince in organizing the books or caring for and protecting the magical plants, I want to see how you translate your talents into actions that benefit others. Greatness in the magical world has always gone hand in hand with a sense of responsibility.

In addition, if you decide to stay on campus, you can come to my office for tea every Saturday morning.

Finally, please remember that the fireplace at Hogwarts will always burn with a warm flame for you.

Sheehan clutched the envelope, surprised that Professor McGonagall had once again secured his place simply because he had casually mentioned it.

Hogwarts, which never allows students to stay on campus during summer vacation, actually opened its doors for him.

In contrast, Mr. Tom Riddle, who was once highly regarded and received much attention throughout the school, did not receive this treatment.

So the fire in the fireplace seemed to burn even brighter.

The sunset was tinged with a thin wisp of cloud, and Dumbledore lovingly stroked Fawkes's wings. Through the stained-glass window, he seemed to see the ambitious young wizard.

Ah—a new beginning, a right beginning.