Is buying a sweater really that hard?
As the weather turned chilly, Sean had already asked the Weasley twins for a favor. They promised to sneak off to Hogsmeade today to pick up some clothes for him—scarves, sweaters, shirts, and boots.
But things didn't go as planned. They got caught the moment they tried to leave the castle.
In a shadowy corner of the corridor:
"Sweaters? Oh, piece of cake!" Fred said with a wink.
"Since you came to us—" George started, shooting Fred a sly glance.
"You should know our rates!" Fred finished, picking up the cue.
"Five Sickles a piece!" George declared, subtly watching Sean's reaction.
"Deal!" Sean said firmly.
"Wait, no, no, no—six Sickles!" George backtracked frantically.
"Deal!" Sean shook George's hand.
George yanked his hand back like he'd been shocked. "Seven!"
"Deal!"
"Eight—no, nine… Merlin's beard!" George groaned, deflating.
"Three Galleons," Fred cut in with a final offer. "Scarves, sweaters, shirts, gloves, and boots—all included!"
"We're only making a Sickle off you, not a single Knut more!" Fred added.
"I trust you guys," Sean said with a grin.
"Two Galleons—please, stop talking," George muttered, sounding exhausted.
"I've never met a young wizard like you," George continued, eyeing Sean oddly. "Those other guys…"
"They think we're out to scam them for ten Galleons!" Fred chimed in.
"When really, they're only spending ten Knuts!" George added.
"Let's go before we regret this," George said, waving Sean along.
Sean nodded. A few steps later, Fred slung an arm around George's shoulder and whispered, "How much did we make?"
"Two Sickles," George replied with a wink.
They exchanged a grin and a high-five.
But just as they turned to leave, a sharp cat's yowl echoed through the corridor.
The twins, halfway into a secret passage, bolted.
"Nine o'clock at night, and Mrs. Norris is here? Fred!" George yelled.
"How should I know!" Fred shouted back, tossing a Dungbomb, but Mrs. Norris was already hot on their heels.
Sean, waiting in the corridor for Mrs. Norris to pass, left with a twinge of disappointment.
The next time he saw the twins, they were in the dungeons, serving detention.
For a full five days, they couldn't escape Professor Snape's grasp—despite their promises to sneak out for an hour to get Sean's winter clothes.
Today, the twins finally finished their punishment, which Snape had them scrubbing toilets to complete. According to Fred, they got out early by ratting out a few Gryffindors.
"Oh, those guys, our dear brothers—" George said with mock solemnity.
"But you paid enough!" Fred added with a wink.
It fit Sean's impression of the twins perfectly. For a moment, he wondered if someone else offered them enough money, would they sell him out?
In the dungeons:
"Tell me," Snape's voice cut like a bitter winter wind, making Fred, who was cleaning windows, and George, who was sweeping, shudder. "What were you two sneaking off for?"
"Just testing a secret passage, sir," Fred said, stiffening.
"One that's supposedly been abandoned for years," George added, trying to sound convincing.
Snape didn't respond, just gave them a cold, insincere smile. "If I make you scrub the bathrooms for two weeks…"
"Sweaters, Professor!" George blurted, looking miserable.
"We needed sweaters, sir," Fred added, putting on his most earnest face.
To their surprise, Snape just stared for a moment before dismissing them from the dungeon.
In the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling glowed a soft gray-blue, with wisps of clouds drifting lazily across. The air carried the warm scent of toasted bread mixed with the crisp morning mist.
Suddenly, a flurry of wings grew louder, like rain pelting windows. Hundreds of owls flooded through the high windows—brown, gray, and white wings blending together in a blur. The young witches and wizards could barely tell them apart until the owls swooped to their tables.
A Howler's piercing screech rang out somewhere, and Sean, Hermione, Neville, and Justin, sitting nearby, casually covered their ears.
Justin glanced out the stained-glass windows. The storm had just eased, but the trees weren't so lucky—most of their leaves had been torn away.
A sleek silver-gray owl landed proudly in front of Justin, carrying a heavy, sturdy package.
He shot a cautious glance at Sean, who was busy attacking an apple pie, and let out a relieved sigh.
Inside the package was a thick sweater and gloves, along with a photo of four young wizards. In the picture, they were shivering, their expressions varied, but oddly, they were all looking at the wizard in the center.
His emerald-green eyes seemed to glow with a hint of warmth in the firelight.
On the back of the photo was a note:
Dear Justin,
I've heard so many stories. I bet his eyes are smaller than a lake. Eyes like that don't cry. Standing in front of him must feel like standing by a lake, with delicate mist stretching endlessly. Always cherish your friends.
—Forever proud of you, Liliana
Justin quietly tucked the letter away and slipped out of the Great Hall while Sean seemed distracted.
At the same time, a speckled owl landed by Hermione. She glanced at Sean, then left the hall with a skip in her step.
Sean slowly looked up from his food. Why did he get the feeling Justin and Hermione were acting strange lately?
In the classroom, the fireplace roared fiercely. Sean, clutching Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1 and a small notebook from Professor Flitwick, settled near the fire.
A gust of cold wind swept in, but Sean sidestepped it with a quick stride.
On his usual seat, a letter with gold trim lay quietly, a package tucked beneath it.
Sean paused, then opened the envelope:
I can't believe it's already fall. The trees are starting to wither. The best thing about fall? You get to wear warm, cozy sweaters. Stay warm, Sean.
—Forever yours, Justin Finch-Fletchley
Outside the stained-glass windows, an owl soared past, carrying away the last chill of autumn.