For days, Sean hadn't seen Sir Cadogan. Once again, he found himself wandering the castle's corridors, sothing that never quite fit into his carefully planned schedule.
But now, a faint worry drove him to take a few extra detours.
"Little Green, please make that knight shut his mouth!"
Lady Violet, dressed in a flowing white gown, appeared in a painting of a rice field.
"Lady Violet," Sean greeted politely, then listened with a touch of nervousness as she recounted Sir Cadogan's "glorious" exploits over the past few days.
The knight had been trapped in a corridor painting, talking nonstop for three days straight. No one had seen him, only heard his poetic voice echoing now and then, often accompanied by dramatic wails.
When Sean slipped into the dungeon, a senior Slytherin had just finished brewing a potion. The student glanced nervously between Sean and the depths of the dungeon before practically bolting out.
Sean quickly spotted Sir Cadogan's portrait. The knight was tied up ssily by a group of trolls, bound to a wooden pole. If the fire beneath him had actually lit, Sean suspected the next ti he'd see Sir Cadogan would be inside a troll's stomach.
Despite his bruised face and perilous situation, Sir Cadogan was still shouting loudly:
"Last year, I honored fine wine,
This year, I see hope rise above prejudice;
Last year, I gazed into flas,
This year, I'm a skewer of at…
Ah—now, I'm a lion, head held high,
Lost entirely in nurturing hope."
The ladies trailing behind Sean tossed so chunks of at to distract the trolls, then struggled to drag the knight away.
"Sir, quiet down! Do a favor, please!" Lady Violet said through gritted teeth.
"Of course, my lady. Knight's Code, Article Four: Always offer aid to a lady," Sir Cadogan replied, his voice softening slightly but still chanting like a spell:
"That stubborn mule stuck in the mud, hear :
For now, set sorrow aside.
Listen to blessings, let their petals fall around you."
A loud crash of breaking jars echoed from the depths of the dungeon, and Sir Cadogan panicked. "My lady, hurry! Hurry!"
Seeing his frantic state, Lady Violet let out a stifled giggle. The Fat Lady, anwhile, stuffed an apple in his mouth—and one in her own for good asure. Muffling her words, she said, "Little Green, you'd forgive a fat lady with an apple in her mouth, wouldn't you?"
Sean replied earnestly, "Yes, ma'am, I still trust you."
"Oh, child—" The Fat Lady's eyes welled up.
Once they'd left the dungeon, Sean didn't ask why Sir Cadogan had been singing for days. He only said, "Sir, you've helped more than enough."
Bruised and wincing in pain, the knight stayed silent.
It wasn't until Sean hurried off to the Alchemy office that Sir Cadogan muttered, "What a fine opportunity—two children with the noble qualities of knights. Oh, loyalty and courage—"
Outside, snow was falling. Sean headed upstairs, unaware of a thin thread stretching from the dungeon to a warm palm, where it unfurled into a parchnt in Professor Terra's fingers.
[Sean Green.]
Among all the first-year students, he stood out remarkably, favored by several professors.
Even the Potions professor…
It wasn't surprising. A master alchemist often excelled in nearly every branch of magic, which was how they glimpsed the mysteries of alchemy.
But this boy—he seed too exceptional.
Professor Terra hadn't seen such a blend of brilliance and quiet diligence in a long ti. Spending months in the greenhouses, especially in Scotland's harsh weather, was no small feat.
Her calm deanor softened, though her confidence remained unshaken. Even among all magical disciplines, only alchemy could truly change the world.
But it still wasn't enough…
---
anwhile, at the Hope Hut.
A group gathered around the fireplace, the crackling flas mingling with Justin's voice and the soft sound of breathing.
"The Hope Hut is a hidden place. Though Mr. Owl won't let outsiders in, we can't cause it any trouble," Justin said. "If soone wants to invite a new mber, we all have to agree. This room is a gift, ant to nurture and hold hope. Got it? If you want to ss around, go to the common room."
Justin rattled off several rules, which everyone generally agreed on.
As the conversation went on, Harry and Ron finally felt like they truly belonged. They hung on every word, not daring to miss a single one.
"If a mber of the Hope Hut is in trouble and we can help, we step in. Even if it's a mistake, we make it together," Justin continued, his words sparking excitent in the group.
"And inside this hut, trust your companions."
Everyone paused at that.
His light blue eyes shone with just the right mix of warmth and resolve. "We're partners. When a partner makes a decision—whether they say or do sothing in this hut that we don't understand—we just need to support them. That's what partners do."
Harry and Ron felt like they'd been given the greatest gift imaginable. Partners—in this room, they were completely trusted.
Hermione and Neville were a bit stunned. Harry and Ron felt almost elevated, like they'd been lifted to a new level.
"Yeah…" Hermione murmured, feeling a twinge of unease. She trusted Sean and Justin, maybe even Neville, but Harry and Ron? She wasn't so sure. Yet, when she rembered the two of them charging out from behind a door on Halloween, she suddenly felt she could accept it.
"My mother told : Trust isn't partial. If it's not absolute, it's not trust at all. Deception cos at a steep cost—for both sides. Because for the one deceived, it ans they can no longer trust their companions," Justin said, almost to himself.
His words sank heavily into Harry and Ron's hearts. The thought of paying that kind of price made them feel they'd rather face a troll.
The conversation didn't last long. As Sean climbed the spiral staircase and glanced at the kind professor, Hogwarts was blanketed in falling snow. The soft rustling filled the Hope Hut, where those who'd faced a troll together… their breaths seed to echo each other's heartbeats.
Justin pulled out a well-preserved note, the words still carrying his mother's lingering warmth:
[My child,
Trust is a house with countless windows.
Its rooms, like cedar,
Its slanted sky, an eternal roof.
Its visitors, the noblest.
Its purpose is this:
With your small hands—gather paradise.
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