Sean was quietly reviewing his notes. Professor Sprout hadn't just taught him how to handle ginger root—she'd also gone over clover, mugwort, and aloe juice. These were all key ingredients for the Swelling Solution, which gave Sean a surge of confidence for tonight's potion-brewing session.
With the improved ritual and his focused willpower, he was sure he could brew a Swelling Solution at least at the Proficient level. That's right—proficient, straight out of the gate. It put a spring in his step.
Until—
"Hogsmeade weekend's just a month away… Oh, you know, it wasn't until my second trip to Hogsmeade that I realized it's the only all-wizard village in Britain," a familiar voice said.
"Uh-huh," came Leon's reply.
Sean spotted Senior Leon chatting with someone.
"What're you planning to get at Honeydukes this time?" Leon asked, raising an eyebrow. "If you try buying broom polish there again, you're going in alone."
"Heh, come on!" Sean could guess who this was.
"They've got everything—Pepper Imps that make your mouth smoke, Chocolate Frogs filled with strawberry or regular cream… and those sugar quills you suck on in class when McGonagall's not looking, only to get tossed out when she catches you," Senior Bruce said with a grin.
Leon looked down at him. "But you waltz in there asking for broom polish, and if they don't have it, you sprinkle itching powder on people."
Sean's eyes widened slightly at that.
"Alright, alright," Bruce said. "I gave them the antidote, didn't I? And I took my lumps from that broom—er, nice weather today, huh? Oh, Sean!"
Bruce spun around, waving at Sean like he had eyes in the back of his head. Leon swallowed his next comment: "What about the beating Pister and I took?"
Sean politely greeted the three seniors. As the lunch bell rang, he started toward the Great Hall when Bruce's voice, laced with amusement, called out, "While you were gone, we spent half our time cleaning up messes caused by those Hufflepuffs. Sometimes I think they're better pranksters than I was—how do they cause that much chaos?"
Bruce winked, and behind him, Leon and Pister nodded solemnly, though it wasn't clear what exactly they were agreeing with.
"Which made me realize," Bruce continued, "you came back at the perfect time." He pulled three chocolate-raspberry-and-nut ice creams out of nowhere and pressed them into Sean's hands. "You won't believe it, but I won a bet on you. Sharing joy is a big part of the Hufflepuff handbook."
So, feeling a bit puzzled, Sean entered the Great Hall with three chocolate-raspberry-and-nut ice creams in hand. He couldn't shake the feeling that Bruce was hiding something. With a guy who'd buy broom polish at Honeydukes and sprinkle itching powder if they didn't have it, who could guess what he was up to?
Maybe Leon was right: "When there's danger, you can trust Bruce completely. When there's not, steer clear."
Inside the Great Hall, Hermione was still scribbling letters, her face flickering between worry and delight. More candies and notebooks had piled up beside her, fresh from the owl post.
"Sean, um, I mean—" Hermione started, then froze as he handed her an ice cream.
"Tasty," Sean said, passing the third one to Justin, who looked dazed from his time in the kitchens.
Hermione stared at the ice cream, then let out a relieved sigh. "Last time, I noticed you ran out of notebooks…"
Before Sean could respond, a stack of notebooks appeared in front of him, blocking his view of his roast chicken. The Great Hall's fireplace crackled warmly as Hermione mumbled, "You didn't bring enough, and I had extras…"
She buried her face in her letters, avoiding his gaze.
Sean blinked, noticing that the blank pages labeled "To Miss Hermione Granger" had been carefully torn out. She'd clearly been planning this for a while.
Later, when Justin quietly asked in class what else Hermione might like, Sean thought hard. "Detailed notes for all seven core Hogwarts subjects," he said.
"Merlin's beard," Justin groaned, clutching his forehead. "I knew it." Then, after a pause, he added, "You know what? You're right, Sean."
So Sean stayed behind in the classroom with Justin, helping set something up and organizing the notes into a neat package. Justin swore Hermione wouldn't step foot in the greenhouse today, though Sean had no idea how he managed that.
Meanwhile, in the corridor, Harry was discreetly slipping a letter about the Gringotts break-in into the owl post for Hermione, carried by Hedwig.
---
In the dungeon, Sean, brimming with enthusiasm, lugged his note-filled bag around a corner. Just as he hadn't expected a broom from Professor McGonagall, he hadn't expected notebooks from Hermione.
Speaking of letters, he pulled a yellowed piece of paper from the innermost part of his bag. It was from the kind old woman who used to visit the orphanage. A week after receiving it, he'd learned of her passing.
The paper was thick, almost like it was made of some tough material.
[Dear Sean,
Life can turn wonderful in a single moment—that's my little secret.
Keep doing something, even the smallest thing, and the gears of fate will start to turn.
My dear child, believe in this.
Forever yours,
—Miranda
(A dried violet was pressed into the corner of the letter.)
Sean tucked the letter away and stepped into the dungeon. The air was cold and dim, with candles casting flickering shadows. Glass jars lined the walls, filled with strange creature parts floating in viscous liquid, slowly turning.
Professor Snape's black robes swept across the dusty stone floor like bat wings. When he saw Sean's familiar brewing technique, his gaze grew complicated.
Sean set his notebook aside, jotting down observations during each brewing step. He was used to constantly refining his methods.
Then a breeze flipped the notebook to a page filled with writing. Snape, who seemed utterly uninterested in Sean's brewing, darted a cold glance over—and caught a few words: Nimbus 2000 usage.
---