"We've never seen Green at a practice…" Wood paced anxiously on the wet grass, oblivious to the mud clinging to his boots. "He must be Ravenclaw's secret weapon! Just like you are for us, Harry. You've got to help the team figure this out. You're the only one who can… If the rest of us go snooping, we'll tip them off. Those Ravenclaws are crafty; they'll never tell us the truth. It's just like how we always split up from you after practice – they must be trying to hide him!"
Wood's 'mission' left Harry deeply troubled. He sought out Ron in the Great Hall.
"Green's notes—oh, wait, you an Sean Green, from Ravenclaw?" Ron was hunched over a piece of parchnt, scratching furiously with his quill, occasionally pausing to chew the end or ruffle his hair. Harry completely understood his misery. It was the weekend, and their howork was untouched. If they didn't finish it, Snape would probably feed them to the Giant Squid.
Now Harry had two things to worry about.
"Yeah, Ron. What… what do you think he's like?" Harry asked quietly.
"What else could he be like?" Ron snapped, throwing his quill down with a clack, adopting an air of worldly authority. "Alright, you know Percy, right? People like them… always thinking they're better than everyone, bossy, ordering everyone around…" Ron said, warming to his subject. "Rember on the platform? When Mum told you to watch out for Peeves? He just had to say, 'It's the Bloody Baron, not Peeves, Mother. Honestly, your lack of knowledge is showing.'" He mimicked Percy's pompous tone perfectly.
But Harry didn't laugh. "Are you sure Sean Green is… like your brother?" he asked uncertainly.
"Honestly, Harry, how can you even ask?" Ron threw his hands up. "If he wasn't, he wouldn't be spending all his ti with Hermione, would he?" A new wave of irritation crossed his face. "Rember? 'So you think that's a reward for breaking the rules?' I'm telling you, Harry, he's a nightmare, just like she is!"
Ron's words left Harry in a long, troubled silence. It was broken by a hesitant stamr from nearby.
"Sean… he's not… not like you say…"
"Oh, co off it, Neville," Ron retorted, exasperated. "I bet they're just pitying you, just like Hermione…" He trailed off, realizing too late what he'd said. He looked horrified, clearly aware his howork-induced stress had made him cruel. "S-sorry, Neville. I didn't an that." He apologized, fumbling over the words until Neville gave a shaky nod.
"Sean's different," Neville repeated, his usual timidity fading, his voice gaining strength. "Sean said… if you want to know what soone's like, you can't listen to rumours. You have to actually… talk to them. Like… like he did with …" Neville flushed beet-red, amazed he'd managed to say the words Sean had used to comfort him.
"Well said, Neville!" Justin Finch-Fletchley appeared at their table, his enthusiastic praise making Neville turn an even deeper shade of red. "Standing up for a friend is its own kind of bravery," Justin added quietly, leaning in. "You did great. Oh, good evening, Harry."
"Evening," Harry replied, feeling a flush of sha, having just been caught badmouthing soone.
Justin pointedly ignored Ron. He believed that if a person couldn't choose their own path, couldn't embrace hope and sincerity, they would only grow narrower. Just like the red-haired wizard beside Harry.
At that mont, Sean tucked his books under his arm and left the Great Hall. He had an hour before he was due in the dungeon and planned to practice Finite Incantatem in the hidden room. He pulled a piece of parchnt from his pocket – a detailed schedule Professor Flitwick had happily provided, making it easier for Sean to find him during his free periods. Not that the professor always stuck to it – Sean suspected Flitwick was currently enjoying a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, having 'forgotten' their appointed ti. Sean didn't mind; he'd just practice on his own.
As he passed a fireplace near the corridor, he saw Justin, Harry, Ron, and Neville clustered together. Ron flinched when their eyes t, and Harry looked just as guilty.
Sean paid them no mind and continued down the hall.
"We're done for…" Ron whispered, his mouth hanging open. His howork-addled brain snapped into sharp focus. "He heard us, didn't he? rlin, I didn't know anything about him, what did I say?!" His face turned ashen. He could already picture the title of Sean's notes changing: A History of Magic: Ron Weasley and Other Vermin Not Permitted to Read.
Justin watched Ron's panic with mild surprise. Perhaps the Gryffindor wasn't so bad after all, just… thoughtless. Harry looked equally miserable, clearly sharing Ron's guilt.
The fire crackled in the hearth. Harry and Ron exchanged a look of grim determination. "Neville's right… we ssed up again. Justin, can you tell us where to find Sean?" Harry asked, his eyes suddenly intense.
"Sean will be in the second-floor corridor at six this evening," Justin replied smoothly. "If you and… Mr. Weasley… wish to apologize, you can find him then."
He watched them hurry off, a wide grin spreading across his face. Oh, Sean is going to be so confused.
Evening.
The stained-glass windows cast colourful, distorted shadows on Sean's face as he walked. Far below, he could see Hagrid, lantern in hand, heading towards the Forbidden Forest. Just as he reached a familiar suit of armour, Harry and Ron stepped out from the shadows, looking incredibly anxious.
Maybe Ron was right, Harry thought frantically. Maybe Green is arrogant and will just sneer and walk away. Or worse, maybe he'll be like Hermione and lecture us. Or maybe he'll pull out his wand… rlin, I can't fight a troll-wrestler…
But Sean's actual response was sothing neither of them had anticipated.
"Let get this straight," Sean said, pausing, his expression one of genuine, mild confusion. "You're apologizing to for badmouthing behind my back?"
(End of Chapter)
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