Madam Pomfrey was dead set against letting them visit the injured, but Dumbledore's voice called from inside the hospital wing:
"Let the brave children come in."
Reluctantly, Madam Pomfrey let Sean and the others pass, though she fixed them with a stern glare. "Ten minutes. One second more, and I'll toss you out!"
The five of them hurried inside.
The hospital wing's large beds were draped in crisp white sheets, with small tables nearby. Curtains surrounded each bed for privacy. When Sean and the others slipped past the curtains, they found Harry and Professor Quirrell still unconscious.
Dumbledore, standing nearby, twinkled his eyes. "Looks like you've come at a bad time."
The young wizards quietly filed out.
But Sean was stopped. "Mr. Green, could you stay a moment?"
He'd been trailing at the back anyway. Turning, he faced Dumbledore, separated only by a curtain.
"Come here, Mr. Green. Have a seat," Dumbledore said warmly, like a grandfather eager to chat with a child. He even handed Sean a Lemon Drop.
"A glimmer of hope can give someone the courage to face the darkness," Dumbledore said with a smile. "How did you know poor Professor Quirrell needed saving, Mr. Green?"
"I didn't, sir," Sean replied. "I wasn't the one who made the choice. I just… did what I could to offer one."
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "A surprising answer. Where others overlooked, you saw Professor Quirrell's struggle. That's something many can't do." He paused, then added, "I hear you sold the pouch I gave you for Galleons?"
Sean froze, caught off guard. Selling a gift from someone wasn't exactly something to be proud of, and he felt a flush of embarrassment.
Noticing Sean's discomfort, Dumbledore hummed a cheerful tune, glancing at the ceiling with a grin. "I suppose I'll have to give you another one. That way, next time, you can decide whether to sell mine or Minerva's."
He placed a new pouch in Sean's hand, clearly amused by the boy's unease.
"Off you go, lad," Dumbledore said. "I think someone's waiting for you outside."
Sean assumed it was Justin and the others, probably peeking through the door only to be shooed away by Madam Pomfrey.
But it wasn't.
"Follow me, Sean Green," came a voice.
Hearing his full name, Sean felt a shiver of authority. He followed Professor McGonagall obediently toward her Transfiguration office.
Justin and the others tried to speak up for him, but one sharp look from McGonagall silenced them. Stern and just, she was both revered and feared by the young wizards.
The fire in the Transfiguration office roared fiercely.
Minerva McGonagall's mind was still reeling. When she'd reached the fourth-floor room, she realized the children had been telling the truth.
Voldemort wasn't dead. He'd manipulated Quirrell to steal the Philosopher's Stone and make his return.
Yet the professors had missed it entirely, leaving a group of brave children to guard the Forbidden Forest and storm the fourth floor to stop Quirrell.
If anyone understood the danger they'd faced, it was the boy standing before her.
"That was reckless, Sean Green!" McGonagall's voice was low but fierce, her body trembling with anger. "How dare you guard the Forest, break into the fourth floor, and face Quirrell alone? Do you have any idea what you were doing?"
Sean stayed silent, unable to respond. McGonagall's gaze softened, her mind drifting to the McGonagall family villa. Marcus had seen something in this boy long ago, handing him a Portkey and somehow predicting the choices he'd make now.
A large owl swooped through the window, dropping a letter that knocked over a silver cat figurine with a faint clink.
"I learned about some tragedies, Professor," Sean said quietly but firmly. "When they unfolded in front of me, I couldn't just stand by. Professor Quirrell… he wrote me a recommendation letter."
McGonagall blinked, caught off guard. She watched as Sean pulled a carefully preserved letter from his bag.
It was like watching a seed, carried by the wind, take root with unyielding resolve.
"Next time," she said hoarsely after a long pause, "tell me."
As Sean left the office, a white-bearded wizard appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
"I think we've seen it clearly now," he said thoughtfully. "He'll always stand on the side of good, even when the world is unjust, even when the darker path seems easier. He has an innate kindness, Minerva. That's your doing. In many ways, you've outdone me."
Outside the office, Justin and the others eyed Sean as if it were a miracle he was still in one piece. When his gaze swept over them, they quickly pretended to look elsewhere.
The storm had calmed by morning, and with the soft hooting of owls, Sean's thoughts drifted.
Quirrell was still unconscious, leaving Sean without a chance to talk. He needed an ally, and if Quirrell was willing, there'd be no one better.
In the days that followed, Hogwarts settled into a quiet calm. No more threats of unicorn-killing minions or panic over the Philosopher's Stone being stolen.
Just a busy hum.
The young wizards who'd faced this ordeal seemed changed. They figured, if they could stand against Voldemort's threat in the Forbidden Forest and stop him from stealing the Stone, how hard could exams and homework really be?
As Sean reviewed the events with Hermione and the others' notes, something clicked. Firenze, the centaur, had said Harry was fated to die in the Forest at Voldemort's hands. Yet Firenze had intervened.
Sean couldn't help but think of Harry's eventual plan to face death—right there in the Forbidden Forest.
Centaur prophecies were never wrong.
This made the magical branch of Astronomy feel even more profound to Sean.
If Hagrid weren't sulking over Harry's condition, Sean would've already ventured into the Forest. The idea of Unicorn Cookies, or even Centaur Cookies, sparked a quiet excitement in him.
On the third day of Harry and Quirrell's unconsciousness, word finally came:
Harry was awake. And so was Professor Quirrell.