"Sean! Sean!"
A familiar voice made Sean pause.
In the corridor outside the greenhouse, the last light of sunset slanted in, making the boy by the Gothic stained-glass window look even more handsome.
"Senior Bruce."
Sean nodded in greeting and started toward the greenhouse.
"You're going to see Professor Sprout, right? I'd head back if I were you. She's gone to Greenhouse Three. First-years aren't allowed in there."
After the warning, Bruce stood there with a book, waiting for Sean's response.
"…Thanks for the heads-up."
Sean stopped where he was, a little lost. If Professor Sprout wasn't around, then with his current Herbology grasp he would struggle even with basic identification, let alone processing. And he didn't even know which plants needed work.
"You really are obsessed with magical plants…"
Watching the light in Sean's eyes dim, Bruce felt like he'd just committed a terrible sin. He shut his book with a sigh.
"Usually Professor Sprout only stays in Greenhouse Three for a short while. After class tomorrow, you should find her in Greenhouse One."
At that, Sean's eyes lit up. He nodded earnestly. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Oh—this is for you."
Sean looked over, puzzled; a black blur flicked past, and suddenly there was a piece of cheese in his hand.
"Dragon-milk cheese. The book Enchant Your Cheese updated the recipe, but I still think the original tastes better—not that I'm alone."
Bruce folded his arms, grinning. "Trading snacks is a Hufflepuff tradition. You're a Ravenclaw, but who cares?"
While Sean examined the cheese, Bruce strode off with crisp, long steps.
From the far end of the corridor came a scatter of voices.
"I think the new edition tastes better."
"Agreed."
"Pister, Leon! Heretics, the both of you! Don't make me lose my cool right after I nailed that exit!"
"He thinks he's so suave…"
"Leon, this time he kinda—"
"Fine, Pister, you're right. I mean—nice work. Very Hufflepuff of you. Bruce, I'll give you that."
…
New edition? Original?
Sean guessed it was like the eternal war over sweet versus savory tofu pudding back in his previous life. Thankfully, he liked spicy.
He checked the time and decided to finally do what he'd been meaning to: head to the Hogwarts Library.
Think about it—tens of thousands of books, and free! That alone made book-poor Sean drool after his recent splurge on texts. Not to mention he could finish homework there. Solid homework should factor into Headmaster Dumbledore's evaluation too.
The Hogwarts Library, on the second floor of the castle, held thousands of shelves and countless books. It was divided into three areas:
First, the general section. There, bookshelves stretched like a dense forest, naturally sprawling in every direction until they vanished into the gloom. They weren't perfectly uniform, either—some rose higher, some lower, and at times you needed a creaking rolling ladder to reach the top.
Heavy oak tables in the center seated students bent over their studies, faces lit by floating crystal globes, quills rasping over parchment.
Try as he might, Sean couldn't glimpse the Restricted Section at the back—a legendary place where Voldemort had once found Secrets of the Darkest Art and turned himself into a brainless maniac; where the trio had found Moste Potente Potions and brewed Polyjuice. A treasure trove, through and through.
The third area was known as the Invisible Section, housing most of the books on invisibility. He had no idea how one was supposed to find it.
He hoisted his little bag and was looking for a seat when he spotted Justin "shouting" silently.
"Sean! Over here!" (mouthed)
Sean hurried over to Justin and Hermione.
"Where did you go? You vanish after every meal." Hermione tipped up her chin. It was concern, but it came out like a scold.
"The greenhouse," Sean said, unbothered.
"Oh—I mean, alright. Then do you know how to tell mature asphodel from the rest?" Realizing her stiff tone, Hermione scrambled to patch it over and blurted her actual problem.
"Asphodel has a faint muttony smell. When it's mature, that scent gets stronger." Sean repeated what Bruce had told him. It felt oddly like passing on a tradition.
"You do know!" Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. She'd only asked on a whim—she hadn't expected Sean to actually have the answer.
"That's what you got from the greenhouse?" Justin asked, prouder than Sean himself, which brought a touch of color to Hermione's ears.
"But I finished the first-year textbook; there's nothing about that in it," Hermione whispered, pink at the tips of her ears.
"Mm. I finished it too, and no—nothing's in there," Sean agreed.
"Merlin—you finished it too!" Hermione covered her mouth again, peeking out from behind a thick brown tome. She glanced around, spotted Madam Pince dressing down a student and not looking their way, and exhaled in relief. "So you're—?!"
Her eyes sparkled—she'd found a kindred spirit.
"I was helping Professor Sprout process plants. A Hufflepuff upperclassman told me," Sean said, pulling out History of Magic and a sheet of parchment. He decided to start with the History assignment.
Justin and Hermione traded a look: "Huh?"
If Professor Binns hadn't said "feet" instead of "inches," the homework wouldn't have been much. Unfortunately, the good professor had mixed them up, so Sean and the rest had a one-foot essay—about a third of a meter.
In the rush to leave class, most first-years hadn't grasped how dire that was. Soon, though, Sean noticed Michael and company at a second-row oak table wearing the mask of pure suffering.
"Three feet! Even if I max the line spacing and font size I'll never hit that!"
A shout rang out, and pitying looks followed Michael. He clapped a hand over his mouth—but too late. Madam Pince marched over, heels clacking furiously on the floor.
Sean propped a book upright, offered a silent moment of mourning, and went to pull sources for his paper.
It seemed like a lot, but for Sean it was manageable.
"Modern Magical History, three Galleons;
Important Magical Events of the Twentieth Century, four Galleons;
Directory of Contemporary Magicians, five Galleons…"
He picked the pricier books where he could. Expensive doesn't always mean good—but it does mean expensive. Once, they were far beyond his reach.
Now, they cost him nothing.
~~~
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