The nightti corridors were hollow and silent, save for the faint, rhythmic clicking of boots against stone. Occasionally, a soft rustling sound echoed through the shadows, reminiscent of a large reptilian creature slithering through the pipes.
The Headmaster's Office.
Perched atop a solitary turret, the office—much like the four House common rooms—required a specific password for entry. The massive stone gargoyle guarding the entrance leaped aside, revealing the spiraling stone staircase behind it.
Sean stepped into the office. The portraits of forr Headmasters were all dozing in their fras. On the spindly-legged tables, various silver instrunts whirred and humd, emitting rhythmic puffs of pale smoke.
On a high shelf behind the desk sat the patched, frayed, and crumpled wizard's hat—the Sorting Hat. Sean reached up and took it down.
"Mr. Hat?"
Sean placed the hat upon his head. The wide brim slipped down, obscuring his eyes in darkness.
"Proud and shrewd Ravenclaw... ah, so they always say," the Hat's voice whispered in his ear, the folds of its fabric twisting into a mouth. "But the Old Hat knows... a wise Ravenclaw possesses a courage forged through deep reflection...
"Make no mistake, the Old Hat knows. The ti has co."
The Sorting Hat was prone to speaking in riddles; the collective wisdom of the four Founders often made its words difficult to parse. Under the moonlight, Sean felt a sudden, heavy weight materialize within the fabric. He reached up, his fingers closing around a long, hard object. This ti, there was no resistance.
Sean pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from the hat.
"The ti is here, the ti is here... go forth and answer the call, appear for the successor you have chosen..." the Hat's voice faded into a raspy whisper until it was silent.
It was a magnificent, gleaming silver sword. The hilt was encrusted with rubies the size of hen's eggs, which shimred with an inner fire. Holding the weapon, Sean felt a surge of surprise at how easily it had co to him. He felt a mont of doubt, but the clock was ticking.
It was ti to head for the Chamber.
With a flick of his wand, several books flew from his bag. He magically bound and transfigured them into a sturdy scabbard, which he buckled to his waist. Standing there with the silver blade at his side, he looked remarkably like a wizard from the ancient chronicles.
Before the International Statute of Secrecy, wizards had moved freely among Muggles. Back then, using a wand against a Muggle's sword was considered a point of dishonor, so wizards often carried blades for self-defense, wielding them with as much grace as their wands. Godric Gryffindor had been a legendary duelist in both arts.
Sean doubted he had any natural talent for swordsmanship—he wasn't even sure if "Sword Mastery" would show up on his system panel—but the blade was a tool, and tonight, he needed every tool available.
Outside the door, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were pressed against the wall, their eyes wide with shock. They scrambled back as the gargoyle began to grind back into place.
"How did Sean... I an, no other student could just walk into the Headmaster's office like that," Ron whispered frantically.
"But what does he want with the Sorting Hat?" Hermione hissed, her back pressed hard against the stone.
"Look—there's sothing in the hat..." Harry whispered, suppressed emotions warring in his chest as he watched the silver-clad boy through the gap.
Sean's profile looked sharper, more determined than usual. As he drew the sword, the moonlight seed to cling to the blade.
"What is that?" Ron stamred as they hurried toward the descending staircase.
"The Sword of Gryffindor," Hermione explained urgently. "If you'd bothered to read Hogwarts: A History, you'd know. It was crafted by the greatest goblin silversmith of all ti—King Ragnuk the First. Legend says it's almost sentient, like a wand. It responds to and appears for those it deems worthy successors."
"But Sean's a Ravenclaw!" Harry said, his brain feeling muddled.
Ron shivered. "If there's a bloody sword hidden in that hat, does that an every ti we put it on for the Sorting... it could have lopped our heads off?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione huffed.
They went silent as the sound of the moving staircase alerted them to Sean's departure. Bathed in moonlight, Sean walked past their hiding spot, pausing for a split second to look back over his shoulder.
The trio held their breath, their hearts hamring against their ribs. Fortunately, Sean turned away and continued down the corridor.
"That was too close," Ron exhaled, feeling his knees go weak.
Ron, Harry, Hermione...
Sean had noted their presence but didn't dwell on it. Being seen wasn't an issue, so long as it wasn't Voldemort or his proxies watching. His only real concern was Dumbledore; he hadn't seen the Headmaster in days. Since their last conversation, Dumbledore had been conspicuously absent from the Great Hall.
The Second-Floor Girls' Bathroom.
It was minutes before curfew.
"Hiss-ss (Open)," Sean said calmly.
Imdiately, the copper tap flared with a brilliant white light and began to spin. The sink descended into the floor, vanishing from sight to reveal the gaping mouth of a massive pipe.
Sean adjusted his Refraction Spectacles. Snowy and Tila were already wearing their custom-made miniature versions.
"It's ti," Sean murmured.
In the Corridor.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were pacing frantically. Their quarry had vanished into thin air the mont they turned a corner.
"Think about it, Harry," Ron said, his face pale in the torchlight. "A wizard doesn't go grabbing a legendary sword just to trim the hedges. If Sean feels he needs that kind of backup..."
"I'm going to find Justin," Hermione said, turning on her heel. "Maybe he knows where Sean went."
"Wait—I've got it!" Harry shouted suddenly. "Rember Dobby? The house-elf? He said Hogwarts was in danger. And my Parseltongue—Sean knew about it. He asked how to say certain things."
"What?" Hermione and Ron asked in unison.
They realized they were once again standing on the edge of one of Sean's silent, grand designs. But they wanted him to know—every single ti—that they were ready to stand by him.
"What did you tell him, Harry?" Ron asked urgently. "Not 'Open'... was it? Open! Sean's trying to open sothing!"
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