"I'm very sorry, Mr. Filch," Sean said, his voice quiet but sincere.
Unlike most students, Sean didn't harbour any particular animosity towards the caretaker. He understood Filch's bitterness, his frustration at being a Squib in a magical world. Just as he wouldn't bla Snape for his harshness, Sean blad only himself for his predicant. If he had progressed faster, he wouldn't be out after curfew.
Still, a wave of disappointnt washed over him. Nearly a month of relentless effort, potentially undone by this single misstep.
Filch stared at him, montarily taken aback by the apology, before returning furiously to his report. This flicker of hesitation gave Sean a sliver of hope.
The enforcent of Hogwarts rules was notoriously inconsistent. Take night prowling, for example. In severe cases – like when Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been caught after supposedly luring Malfoy out for a duel (as McGonagall believed at the ti) – McGonagall had deducted a massive number of points and assigned detention. Harry had described her as towering over them, looking more likely to breathe fire than Norbert the dragon. But in less egregious circumstances, detention wasn't always the consequence.
Professor Flitwick, Sean suspected, might be lenient if given a proper explanation. And Professor Sprout… she was known to give even misbehaving Hufflepuffs a stern talking-to before secretly slipping them coconut ice cream. She was the eternal winter sun of the castle.
So, as long as this report didn't land on Snape's desk, Sean might escape the dreaded "Potion practice" detention. Snape had already expressed considerable displeasure at Sean's recent "slacking" (due to exhaustion from Borage's ritual).
Wait a minute. A suspicion blood in Sean's mind. Could this entire situation… be Snape's doing? He rembered Snape seed unusually friendly with Filch; Filch had been the one to tend Snape's leg after the Cerberus incident. Could the professor have… set him up?
Sean didn't know he was caught in a setup within a setup.
Verifying his suspicion was simple: he just needed to see which Head of House Filch intended to report him to.
As Sean waited anxiously, a loud CRASH echoed from the ceiling above, making the oil lamp sway violently.
"PEEVES!" Filch roared, slamming his quill down in fury. "I'll get you this ti, you–!" He stord out of the office.
Seizing the opportunity, Sean quickly leaned over the desk. The report form was addressed to 'Professor S–'. Sean sighed internally. But beside the form lay sothing else: a thick, purple envelope embossed with silver lettering. A cold gust of wind blew through the open doorway, threatening to send the envelope fluttering to the floor. Sean instinctively caught it. The silver letters read: Kwikspell: A Correspondence Course in Beginners' Magic.
He knew this letter. Harry had found it in Filch's office in the book. Filch was already considering it…
Just then, a lithe figure leaped onto the desk, landing silently beside him. Mrs. Norris. With a swift flick of her claw, she ripped open the Kwikspell envelope.
Feeling out of step in the modern world of magic?
Finding yourself making excuses not to perform simple spells?
Been laughed at for your lousy wandwork?
There is an answer! Kwikspell is an all-new, fail-safe, quick-result, easy-learn course.1
Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefited from the Kwikspell thod!2
Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham writes:3
"I had no mory for incantations and my potions were a family joke! Now, after a Kwikspell course, I am the 4centre of attention at parties and friends beg for the recipe of my Scintillation Solution!"
Wizard D. J. Prod of Didsbury says:
"My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms, but one month into your fabulous Kwikspell course and I succeeded in turning her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!"
Mrs. Norris swished her tail across the letter, then let out a soft ow, looking pointedly at the grimy walls. Sean understood imdiately.
"S—cour—g—ify!" His wand flashed. A patch of gri vanished. He worked quickly, his wand tip glowing, cleaning the walls patch by patch. He used Levitation Charms to tidy the cluttered room, stacking overturned furniture neatly. By the ti he finished, he was breathing heavily again.
Mrs. Norris jumped onto his shoulder, rubbing her head affectionately against his cheek. In the dim lamplight, the boy and the cat sat quietly together.
"That noise upstairs… that was you too, wasn't it, Mrs. Norris?" Sean murmured, scratching behind her ears. "Pleasure doing business with you." Her tail twitched against his neck. Purrrr.
[You have gained the affection of the Kneazle-part Magical Beast (Mrs. Norris) to the Adept standard. Proficiency 10]
"Have you—did you read—?" Filch stamred, returning to find his office transford. Just then, another gust of wind snatched the Kwikspell letter from Sean's hand. He and Filch stared at each other in silence as it fluttered to the floor between them.
Filch imdiately began wringing his bony hands. "Oh… well… I, ah, it's not mine… got it for a friend… anyway…"
"I apologize, Mr. Filch," Sean said firmly. "I didn't an to see it. I won't breathe a word to anyone."
"Good… good… that's good. Off you go then, off you go…" Filch seed utterly deflated. He stared blankly at the clean room, sinking into his chair. "An accident… just an accident… We can trust him, can't we, my dear?"
Mrs. Norris padded over and rubbed against his shoulder, her luminous eyes seeming to agree.
Late that night. Shadowy corridor.
"Ah… It matters not what soone is born, but what they grow to be," Dumbledore murmured, his long white beard gleaming faintly. "And it is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." He smiled kindly, his blue eyes deep and knowing. "Anger is always the easiest choice. But the boy did not choose it, did he?"
"Do you truly think… this is wise, Albus?" McGonagall's voice was cold, sharp. She turned and swept away down the corridor.
"If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors… Forgive , Minerva," Dumbledore whispered, before fading back into the darkness.
Ravenclaw dormitory.
Sean was flipping through The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7, finding the section on non-verbal casting. He had gained so insights during his practice. He decided to ask Professor Flitwick about it after Transfiguration class tomorrow.
He remained completely unaware of the two pairs of powerful eyes that had observed his entire encounter in the shadowy corridor.
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