Dumbledore's kind eyes grew even deeper.
He'd expected an answer like that, yet it still made him sigh a little.
He often asked himself what kind of education they should give to young wizards this gifted.
But the mont he even considered asking, pride had already clouded his judgnt.
Underestimating the young because you're old is both foolish and forgetful.
He looked at the blood-streaked sword, the exhausted eyes, and the torn, ragged robes on the boy in front of him.
"Care for so tea?" Dumbledore asked with a gentle smile.
"No thank you, Headmaster."
Sean bolted out of there like his life depended on it.
He'd been sure Dumbledore was about to grill him with a thousand questions…
"My boy," the headmaster's aningful voice drifted after him as he left the office, "when you fight monsters, take care you do not beco one."
…
The corridor was silent, bathed in moonlight.
Hogwarts had fallen fast asleep.
After who-knows-how-long, the horizon turned pale gray. Thin mist draped the Scottish Highlands like a veil.
Dumbledore sat at the window while the kettle bubbled round after round.
"Albus, you need rest," a portrait of a witch with long silver curls said softly.
"Headmistress Dilys, we ought to be more forgiving, shouldn't we?" Dumbledore replied in a low, thoughtful tone.
In the end he hadn't asked anything. That kind of trust was the greatest forgiveness of all.
"That boy pulled the Sword of Gryffindor," the portrait said slowly, eyes shining with admiration. "You and I both know what that ans, Albus. It always shows up exactly when a true heir needs it.
And more importantly, that child didn't raise his sword for himself."
As Dumbledore closed his eyes, the castle bells rang out across the grounds. Breakfast ti.
Owls swooped into the Great Hall again, loaded with mail.
When Sean sat down, three wizards with massive dark circles under their eyes were already at the table.
Justin shot them a shocked glance.
For most of the al the trio were completely out of it.
They thought they'd finally touched the edge of the truth.
Dumbledore was clearly planning sothing again, and Hogwarts was in danger once more.
A terrifying Basilisk was on the loose; one direct look and you were dead.
They knew they'd be useless in a fight.
So they'd stayed up all night trying to find the snake's weakness and co up empty.
Ask Sean?
If Sean knew anything, he wouldn't have co back looking that wrecked.
Every now and then they sneaked glances at him. The guy was calmly reading a book about rare magical creatures.
Looked like he was hunting for the Basilisk's weakness too.
That just made them feel the clock ticking faster.
Sean, anwhile, was actually studying the ritual for Basilisk-shaped cookies.
Once the snake was handled, the diary was next.
Tom's dark magic was impressive, sure, but Sean had Harry (the ultimate hard counter).
All he had to do was slip into Harry's dream and tip him off about the diary.
Then he could sit back and listen to Tom scream.
With that cheerful plan in mind, Sean glanced over at the Gryffindor table.
Ginny's face was flushed. Looked like Tom hadn't recovered much strength yet.
The next couple of days were blissfully quiet.
Sean kept popping down to the Chamber to grind affinity points with the Basilisk, while Tom (who was supposed to be controlling it) stayed weirdly inactive.
The only ones panicking were Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were running on fus.
"Any breakthroughs today?" Ron groaned, face-planting onto the table. "My arms are dead. Filch made polish that Quidditch trophy fourteen tis before he was happy. Then I dropped a 'Special Services to the School' dal… he made do twenty more rounds!"
Harry and Hermione just shook their heads, looking miserable.
They were honestly half-tempted to beg Sean to let them co face the Basilisk with him. Anything was better than sitting around terrified.
Sean disappeared most nights from Hope Cottage without a word, leaving the trio staring after him with a mix of worry and hope.
And just like that, October arrived. Damp, cold air seeped into the castle grounds.
Colds started ripping through students and staff alike; Madam Pomfrey was swamped.
Her Pepperup Potion worked instantly, but for hours afterward steam poured out of the patient's ears.
Ginny Weasley had been looking peaky lately. Percy forced a dose down her throat; now bright red hair steam = she looked like her head was on fire.
Bullet-sized raindrops hamred the windows for days. The lake rose, the flowerbeds turned to mud, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled until they were the size of garden sheds.
Right around the ti Ginny started looking dazed, Sean finally hit "Friendly" affinity with the Basilisk.
Now he just needed a few ritual supplies.
Books on dark magical creations were, of course, locked away in the Restricted Section; normal students couldn't touch them.
Lucky for Sean, he had permission slips. Lots of permission slips.
"Anything that stays still long enough gets Lockhart's signature," Justin had sumd up perfectly.
And just minutes ago, the empty rune tablet on Sean's desk had flashed once and gone dark.
Sean blinked in mild surprise.
Tom, Ginny, Harry…
Looked like they were all about to run into each other in the Chamber pretty soon.
As for the missing Basilisk, Sean planned to knock it out cold and relocate it to the Forbidden Forest.
Which ant Harry would be facing a completely defenseless Tom.
At that thought, the corner of Sean's mouth curved up.
Not far away sat Roger and Toa, still scheming.
"Think it'll work, Roger?" Toa asked, wincing in sympathy.
Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff Quidditch teams treated them like public enemy number one. All three teams trained like mad while obsessing over Ravenclaw's "secret weapon."
They'd rehearsed a hundred tactics just to shut down a Seeker nad Green, while Toa still had no idea their secret weapon was apparently so secret even the Ravenclaw team didn't know they had one.
"It'll work," Roger said firmly.
He'd found the trick; the key was a certain portrait. Sir Cadogan was going to help them bring back Ravenclaw's pride.
Outside, the rain still poured. The sky turned black as ink.
Mist curled up around Ravenclaw Tower.
It looked like the perfect night for dreams.
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