Ila nervously recounted the tale, and Sean gained a new appreciation for Sir Cadogan. Apparently, the knight, driven by eternal boredom, occasionally squeezed himself into the tiny portrait fra that hung in the kitchens. His reasoning, according to Ila: "Can't eat it, can't even look at it? By Arthur's ghost! Might as well burn at the stake!"
Over ti, he had befriended most of the house-elves. Long ago, so students had taken to bullying the elves, commonly forcing them to hit themselves repeatedly just to see if they would stop. Sir Cadogan, enraged, had pursued the culprits relentlessly for a full week, showering them with knightly insults. Headmistress Dilys Derwent had comnded his actions, earning him the elves' lasting affection – not that the knight cared much for their approval. Naturally, so of that goodwill had now transferred to Sean.
"Sir Cadogan says," Ila squeaked, her eyes shining whenever she ntioned the knight, "'If anyone else embodies the spirit of noble knighthood, it is young… Master Green…'"
Sean conjured a soft cushion and sat down, listening as Ila shared more stories of Sir Cadogan's exploits – how he had single-handedly defeated a troll, how he had fearlessly faced down three more…
anwhile, Justin was happily absorbed in baking, consulting notes Professor Sprout had given him on food-related charms. Hermione, still buzzing with excitent, was attempting to interview the other house-elves, who mostly stamred and twitched nervously under her intense questioning.
Justin had called the kitchens the best place in Hogwarts, and Sean could see why. Watching Justin work, whipping up an astonishing array of pastries and sweets with practiced ease, Sean realized his friend's speed rivalled even that of the house-elves.
Naturally, Sean ate far too much.
Later that lazy afternoon, they found themselves relaxing near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The soft sunlight felt exceptionally gentle. They stopped a respectful distance from the dark treeline; the towering pines ford an imposing, dark green wall, but generously offered a gentle slope covered in soft moss. Sunlight filtered through the high canopy, dappling the ground with golden coins of light. An ancient beech tree spread its massive branches overhead. The air was damp and earthy, carrying the faint, sweet scent of wildflowers.
"On the train," Justin was explaining to Hermione, his voice mingling with the distant, ethereal birdsong from the forest depths and the rustle of small creatures in the undergrowth, "it's the house-elves who transport our luggage to the castle. They do all the cleaning, the cooking…"
"Because they can Apparate anywhere instantly, and use Disillusionnt Charms…" Hermione added, scribbling furiously in her notebook.
Sean recalled Ila's parting words: "Ila wishes to help Master Sean Green. If Master Sean Green requires food or items, Ila can bring them. Master Sean Green need only call Ila's na." He had simply nodded at the anxious group of elves surrounding Ila, and watched as they had lifted her onto their shoulders in celebration.
So, Sean now had the privilege of unlimited pumpkin juice, and perhaps… unlimited food.
After a while, the conversation turned to the Forbidden Forest.
"So many Gryffindors want to explore the forest," Hermione scoffed, her voice laced with exasperation. "I simply cannot believe how foolish they can be!"
"At least they mostly just talk about it," Justin pointed out jokingly. "Mr. Scamander actually got himself expelled." Tales of the famous Magizoologist's exploits were legendary at Hogwarts, including his nurous rule infractions involving magical creatures, like his excursions into the Forbidden Forest with Leta Lestrange.
But generally, apart from a few adventurous Hufflepuffs, most Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs tended to follow the rules. This wasn't the era of the Marauders, after all; greeting fellow students involved waving, not hexing.
Though Justin and Hermione seed engrossed in their discussion, Sean noticed them stealing frequent glances his way. The breeze from the Black Lake carried the damp scent of water, and as the sun dipped lower, their three shadows stretched long across the grass, eventually rging into one.
That night, back in the Ravenclaw dormitory.
"Ila?" Sean whispered into the quiet room.
Barely two seconds passed before the small house-elf Apparated silently beside his bed.
"Master Sean Green, sir. It is an honour to be of service," Ila squeaked, nervously twisting the hem of her ragged pillowcase tunic.
"I'd like a glass of warm milk, please," Sean requested. "Oh, and this is for you." He held out a piece of candied crabapple he'd made in the kitchens earlier, experinting from mory. Crabapples weren't usually preserved so quickly, but magic, as he knew, often defied logic.
"N-no! Ila cannot accept gifts from Master Sean Green! Serving Master Sean Green is Ila's duty!" the elf stamred, looking utterly horrified, tears welling in her large eyes.
"Please take it, Ila," Sean insisted gently.
A mont later, the distraught elf vanished, replaced by a steaming glass of milk and a plate of biscuits left silently on his nightstand.
Sean took a sip. He knew his health had improved significantly. Hogwarts provided ample, nutritious food, and Snape's potions had undoubtedly accelerated his recovery. He felt at least halfway back to his forr strength. The remaining recovery would take ti, but Snape's potent draughts would surely speed the process.
He sat by the window, holding his Nimbus 2000, feeling the smooth wood, sensing the thrum of magic within its structure. He recognized this intuitive connection, this innate understanding – a talent related to… alchemically crafted objects. His notes gained a new section, alongside Transfiguration practice and tomorrow afternoon's Flight Test.
The night deepened. Down the hall, Hermione still sat by her own window, reading by candlelight, a Silencing Charm cast around her bed to avoid disturbing her roommates. She was still slightly amazed that Justin had managed to convince Sean to take a day off. She wondered what exactly Sir Cadogan had said to him.
"Alright, think of him like a tightly shut house," she seed to hear Justin's cheerful, determined voice again. "But that's okay. I'll just keep ringing the doorbell..."
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