Hermione undoubtedly had a wonderful birthday. When her parents' faces appeared smiling in the magical fireplace, she was moved almost to tears. Sean and Justin tactfully gave them space, waiting outside the hidden room. Sean read, while Justin paced nervously, muttering reassurances to himself. After a while, they heard Hermione's soft voice calling them back inside.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger's faces radiated warmth and affection. They praised Justin so effusively he turned bright red, and Sean received his fair share of complints as well. Under her parents' loving gaze, Hermione opened her presents. Justin had thoughtfully given her a set of moon charts and astronomical instrunts, perfect for her current Astronomy assignnts. Sean gifted her a complete set of his ticulously organized notes – even Hermione had to admit they were a lifesaver for any struggling student, far clearer and more engaging than the dense, often confusing textbooks. The History of Magic section, already widely circulated and praised, was particularly comprehensive.
Later that night, long after her roommates were asleep, Hermione noticed a small slip of parchnt tucked into the gifted notes. Glancing around cautiously, she unfolded it.
Hermione,
I wanted to say, no matter what anyone else thinks or says, your worth remains unchanged.
I know you already know this, but please allow to say it anyway.
—Your friend, Sean Green
The simple words brought tears to Hermione's eyes, a balm to her recently bruised feelings.
Sharing special monts undoubtedly strengthened bonds. The three friends in the hidden room grew closer. Justin and Hermione also noticed Sean seed even busier than usual. He left early, returned late, often collapsing onto a sofa in exhaustion, only to down a mysterious potion and push himself further.
In parallel, his Transfiguration and Levitation skills grew exponentially. Justin had personally witnessed Sean levitate chairs and even animate a small pebble into a crude stone soldier that could take a few stumbling steps. In Transfiguration class, Sean had managed to partially transfigure his desk into a snarling boar, complete with sharp tusks. Although the effort had left him collapsing back into his seat seconds later, the sight had thoroughly terrified the Slytherins peering in from the corridor. Goyle couldn't fathom the horror of being charged by such a beast, and Theodore Nott, already on detention, quietly abandoned any thoughts of revenge. His Dancing Feet Jinx seed woefully inadequate against a charging boar.
Saturday. It was bright and sunny.
Owls delivered the usual weekend mail. Justin received an envelope edged in gold. He opened it carefully.
My Dearest Justin,
Your letters paint such vivid pictures of your adventures. I am so pleased you have found such good friends, my dear. As I always say, cherish them – for gentle and true souls often find this world a difficult place, as it is neither particularly true, nor gentle.
—Forever proud of you, Lillian
Justin carefully folded the letter, his gaze drifting towards the figure at the Ravenclaw table, once again surrounded by owls. He rembered their conversation by the fireplace.
"Sean, I an, there's a fireplace here, connected to the Floo Network. If you ever..."
"I have no one to contact."
Sean's quiet words, before he had imdiately turned back to practicing Transfiguration.
The Great Hall buzzed with weekend energy. Students clustered around the warm hearths, eating sweets, playing gas, debating animatedly, or catching up on howork.
"Hermione, have you noticed?" Justin asked, his voice low. "Apart from that one letter… Sean never seems to receive any mail."
Hermione paused, then cast a quick Muffliato charm around them. "Of course, I've noticed… So…" Their eyes t, a shared weight settling between them.
After reaching the 'Adept' level with the Levitation Charm, Sean encountered an unexpected snag. Practicing at the 'Novice' standard now yielded only 1 proficiency point instead of 3. The 'Adept' standard only gave 3 points. Only the 'Expert' standard still awarded the full 50 points.
He could feel himself gaining less from the lower-level practice. The insights were fewer, the refinents smaller. It pushed him towards mastering the more advanced techniques, climbing the next rung of the magical ladder.
But it also put him under imnse ti pressure. To reach Expert level by the end of the week, he had to drastically reduce his ti in the dungeons and McGonagall's office. He even requested a few days off from helping Professor Sprout, especially now that Neville had returned to the greenhouses and Bruce was a regular presence there.
Saturday afternoon.
Sean erged from Professor McGonagall's office, pale but satisfied. He had pushed himself to the absolute limit these past few days. The results were tangible:
[Na: Sean Green]
[Proficiency]
[Summoning Charm: Novice (3/900)]
[Water-Making Spell: Novice (2/900)]
[Levitation Charm: Adept (1200/3000)]
Adept-level practice wasn't efficient enough. He needed to reach Expert. Reviewing his notes, Professor Flitwick's words jumped out at him:
"…if you can make a feather spin, why not try levitating that small table…? Once you have a firm grasp of the required first-year spells, you will find the mysteries of non-verbal magic awaiting you…"
Non-verbal casting? Sean murmured thoughtfully.
His progress in Potions, however, remained challenging, albeit in a different way. Professor Snape had beco… stricter. His guidance was more frequent, his sarcasm slightly less barbed. This had an unfortunate consequence.
When Sean erged from the dungeon that evening, having successfully brewed another 'Adept' level Deflating Draught, he ntally congratulated himself on surviving another session of Snape's intense tutelage. Remarkable! He hadn't even had ti to test his theories about emotional influence on potions amidst the barrage of precise, demanding instructions.
He glanced around the empty corridor and sighed. Despite morizing the school rules, he was now officially breaking curfew.
Misfortune rarely ca alone.
Just as he stepped out of the dungeon stairwell, a soft ow, almost lost beneath the hooting of a nearby owl, sounded near his ankle. He looked down into two luminous yellow eyes, glowing like lamps in the dim corridor.
Mrs. Norris.
Though he generally felt sympathy for the caretaker's feline companion, tonight, everything was different.
User Comments
0 comments from readers