"Oi!"
Percy's face turned a brilliant shade of green with indignation.
Fred and George, however, ignored him entirely. They were too busy dancing
around Sean, gesturing wildly as they talked. They rattled off stories about the
strange alchemical artifacts they'd seen in Egypt, debating the possibilities of
smuggling them into the UK market, and finally began pleading with Sean to help
them research so of the more "explosive" prototypes.
Sean found the prospect genuinely interesting.
The others tried to lean in to catch a bit of the conversation, but after
hearing only a few sentences of high-level magical theory, they backed away,
their heads throbbing.
"Give it a rest, you two," Mrs. Weasley said, physically prying her sons away
from Sean, as they were practically hanging off his shoulders. "Mr. Green, it's
lovely to see you here."
"Mum! You're just trying to hog the Great Green for yourself!" Fred shot a wink
at George. George, acting as if he'd only just noticed his mother, grabbed her
hand dramatically.
"Mum, seeing you brings such joy to my withered heart—"
"That's enough out of you two," Mrs. Weasley warned. she pointedly looked at a
pile of shopping bags on an empty chair, then back at the twins.
The twins pouted in unison and sat down like obedient schoolboys.
"Co here, dear. My, look how thin you've gotten," Mrs. Weasley said, pulling
Sean into a bone-crushing hug. Crookshanks, still perched on Sean's shoulder,
hopped over to Mrs. Weasley's shoulder and began batting at her hair with his
tail.
By the ti Sean managed to disentangle himself, Mrs. Weasley had moved on to
the other children, examining them one by one and fussing over their health. It
wasn't until Mr. Weasley gave a polite cough that Molly finally released her
grip on the group.
"Hello, dear children. I expect you've heard our big news?" She pointed proudly
to the shiny silver badge pinned to Percy's chest.
"The second Head Boy in the family!" she bead, her pride practically radiating
off her.
"And the last," Fred muttered under his breath to Sean.
The twins had positioned themselves like sentinels on either side of Sean,
effectively squeezing out Justin and Hermione. Hermione was still busy glaring
at George for taking her seat.
"I don't doubt that for a second," Mrs. Weasley said, her brow furrowing as she
looked at the twins. "I noticed they didn't see fit to make you lot Prefects."
"What would we want with a Prefect badge?" George asked, looking as though the
very idea made him ill. "It would take all the fun out of life."
Ginny let out a little giggle.
"You should be setting a better example for your sister!" Mrs. Weasley snapped.
"Ginny's got plenty of other brothers to set examples, Mum," Percy said
pompously. "I'm going upstairs to change for lunch..."
As he marched off, George let out a sigh of relief. "We tried to lock him in a
pyramid," he whispered to Sean, "but Mum caught us."
"A tragic loss for wizarding-kind," Fred added, his face falling into an
exaggerated mask of disappointnt.
Lunch was a grand affair. Tom, the landlord, pushed three tables together in the
center of the parlor. The seven Weasleys and Sean's group of five tucked into
ten platters of steaming, delicious food.
As the al wound down, Sean took a final sip of his pumpkin juice. He set the
glass down, his mind already drifting to his checklist for the end of the
holidays.
First on the list was Slytherin's Locket. He intended to destroy it using the
Sword of Gryffindor, which ant he needed to get back to Hogwarts. The timing
was perfect; his week of freedom was coming to a close.
Second was his progress in Magical Reconstruction. It was an incredibly
difficult discipline, requiring him to rebuild his internal Order and find the
corresponding external Wisdom. But the rewards were imnse—it was the only way
Sean could truly master Ancient Magic, the kind of raw, boundless power that had
been lost to ti.
Finally, his mastery over Fiendfyre had reached the Proficient level. Once he
hit "Master," he knew a new Title would unlock in his system.
As for Sirius Black and Scabbers...
The common room was filled with the low hum of conversation. As the group made
their way toward their rooms, Ron suddenly slapped his forehead.
"My dicine! The Rat Tonic! I left it on the table!"
"Ron! Where's my Head Boy badge?!" Percy ca charging down the stairs.
Apparently, being roommates with Ron was already taking its toll.
"How should I know? I haven't touched it! I was about to ask you what you did
with my Tonic!" Ron yelled back.
The two brothers began bickering loudly. Justin and Hermione hurried over to
play peacemakers, while Sean took the opportunity to slip away.
"I'll help look for them," Sean said quietly.
"I'll go with you," Harry added, eager to escape the shouting match.
They were halfway down the corridor when they heard voices raised in anger
coming from a private parlor. They recognized them imdiately: Mr. and Mrs.
Weasley.
"...it's wrong not to tell him, Molly," Mr. Weasley was saying, his voice thick
with emotion. "Harry has a right to know. I tried to talk sense into Fudge, but
he insists on treating Harry like a child. Harry is thirteen, he—"
Harry froze in his tracks. Sean stayed silent beside him.
"Arthur, the truth will terrify him!" Mrs. Weasley cried. "The danger is
constant. Do you really want him going back to school with that kind of shadow
hanging over him? For heaven's sake, he's happier in the dark!"
"I don't want him to be miserable, I want him to be alert!" Mr. Weasley
countered sharply. "You know what Harry's like! He wanders off on his own
constantly—he's even been into the Forbidden Forest! He can't do that this term.
I shudder to think what could have happened the night he ran away. If the Knight
Bus hadn't picked him up, I'm certain he'd be dead before the Ministry even
found him."
"But he isn't dead, he's fine! Why is it necessary—"
"Molly, they say Sirius Black is mad. Perhaps he is. But he had the cunning to
break out of Azkaban, sothing everyone said was impossible. It's been a month,
and not a soul has seen hide or hair of him. I don't care what Fudge tells the
Daily Prophet—we're as close to catching Black as we are to inventing a
self-spelling wand. But there is one thing we know for certain: Black is looking
for—"
"But Harry is perfectly safe at Hogwarts!"
"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe, too! If Black can break out of a
fortress like that, he can certainly break into a school."
"But no one knows for sure that Black is after Harry—"
THUD. The sound of a fist hitting a wooden table echoed through the door.
"Molly, how many tis do I have to tell you? It wasn't in the papers because
Fudge wanted to keep it quiet, but Fudge went to Azkaban the night Black
escaped. The guards told him that for a long ti, Black has been talking in his
sleep. Always the sa phrase, over and over:
'He's at Hogwarts... He's at Hogwarts.'
Black is deranged, Molly. He wants Harry dead. He thinks killing Harry will
bring You-Know-Who back to power. On the night Harry stopped him, Black lost
everything. He's spent twelve years in Azkaban brooding over it..."
Silence fell inside the room.
Beside Sean, Harry stood as still as a statue, his mouth hanging open in shock.
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