Rain was hammering against the windows, making the curtains billow inward.
Justin shut the window, and the cottage settled back into cozy quiet.
"Sorry, Harry. I don't think I can make it either. Look at this monster pumpkin; I'm planning to carve an actual lounge inside it."
Justin gave an apologetic smile.
"N-no, it's fine," Harry mumbled, sounding even more let-down. He never should've said yes so fast.
"I… uh…" Neville stammered, also backing out.
Harry slumped into a chair, head drooping like a kicked puppy.
"Um…" Ron looked torn. While he was agonizing, he caught Sean letting out a quiet sigh.
"You already promised him, Harry?" Sean asked.
"Yeah… I was thinking I could tell Sir Nick I've got something else going on…" Harry said under his breath.
"A wizard's word is binding," Hermione declared primly. "You said you'd go to the Deathday Party. You can't take it back."
"I… guess you're right," Harry said slowly.
Hermione instantly looked embarrassed and tried to backpedal. "I just meant—"
"What she means," Justin cut in gently, hammering away at the giant pumpkin until he'd knocked out a perfect little window, "is that we're a team. If Harry promised, we should all show up. Though next time maybe ask the room first, yeah?"
He turned around, hammer still in hand. "That's what you think too, right, Sean?"
Sean gave a small nod.
Harry looked up and realized everyone was grinning at him.
For no reason at all, Justin's mom's words popped into his head:
"My mother says friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity."
These past few weeks, time had worn down the rough edges of memory the way a river polishes stones; friendship just kept getting smoother and brighter.
With the storm raging outside, Harry couldn't think of anywhere luckier than right here with his friends.
"We'll pop in for a bit and leave early?" Justin suggested, sliding the pumpkin chunks into his little oven. He noticed Sean's eyes automatically drift toward the oven.
They wrapped up the conversation surrounded by the sweet smell of roasting pumpkin. In the end, all six decided to make a quick appearance but not stay long.
The afternoon flew by, and soon the sun was setting.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team trudged back from practice. Harry was caked head to toe in mud.
A broom suddenly zoomed up beside him, matching his every step, sweeping the mud off as he walked. By the time he changed clothes it had vanished again.
"Self-cleaning broom?"
Harry was pretty sure this was another one of Sean's inventions.
It looked exactly like the twin of the one back at Hope Cottage.
Harry sighed. Even without wind or rain, practice had been miserable.
Fred and George had spent the whole session spying on Slytherin and come back pale: the Slytherins' shiny new Nimbus 2001s turned their team into seven blurry green streaks that shot around like fighter jets.
Losing to Slytherin was the last thing Harry wanted.
But the next thought cheered him right up: day after tomorrow he was going to Hagrid's, the day after Halloween. Everyone was coming—even Sean—and Sean was walking back to the castle with Hagrid afterward.
Harry's steps felt lighter the whole way home.
When he burst into Hope Cottage, ears perked, everyone was chatting about the Deathday Party and ghosts.
Sean, as usual, was staring out the window like he was mentally turning wizards into dragons or tables into giants.
Actually, Sean was wondering: if the essence of magic is a wizard's belief, then how strong was his own belief right now?
Watching Tila scamper across the ancient books on the shelf, his mind wandered.
Rita and the other reporters would arrive soon. Hagrid was even willing to take Veritaserum for any tough questions.
His testimony would be iron-clad evidence.
Sean paused.
Veritaserum?
…Actually, that wasn't a bad idea.
One drop forces the truth. If Sean took some, maybe he'd finally get answers.
He had vials of it in his vault—Snape had tossed them in "to fill the empty space." Now they might come in handy.
The only question was how to get them out.
Sean already had a plan forming.
…
The day before Halloween.
Rita Skeeter was on her way to Hogwarts, along with a pack of eager reporters.
They'd all been invited by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes—which was basically treated as an official extension of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons combined.
Facing "pressure from foreign powers" (some mysterious African school), the reporters knew they'd have to rely on the art of language to dig up the real juicy stuff.
And if the story was explosive enough, they could ignore the Ministry entirely; not all of them worked for British papers, after all.
That same day, Sean got ambushed in the corridor.
"Great Green! Can you believe it? A second Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is opening!"
Fred threw his arms out dramatically.
"Whatever you've got planned for the day after tomorrow—chuck it straight in the bin!"
George's eyebrows were practically dancing.
"You know how to get there," Fred added with a wink.
"Day after tomorrow, one o'clock sharp. Don't you dare miss it!"
The twins vanished in a swirl of robes before Sean could get a word in.
They'd been plotting this for ages; the date had only just been set.
Conveniently, Sean could swing by on the way.
"Morning, Sean."
Hope Cottage doorstep.
Sean was first to arrive, as usual. Justin was right behind him, carrying a small box charmed to stay warm.
"Morning."
Through the frosted glass Sean could already see sizzling, juicy roast beef.
"Oh yeah—remember Green's Books?" Justin asked as they stepped inside.
"Opening soon?" Sean raised an eyebrow.
The Green Notebooks were selling almost as fast as Wizard Chess sets.
Justin couldn't handle distribution alone anymore, so he'd hired help, then set up proper printing and shipping.
Naturally, the next step was opening an actual shop.
"Third-years and up can visit Hogsmeade. I managed to snag a place there. Grand opening is the day after tomorrow."
Justin smiled warmly.