Snape's whereabouts became Sean's top priority.
Even though Snape hadn't explicitly said he was no longer allowed to brew in the dungeon, Sean decided to avoid him anyway.
There was plenty of room to maneuver on that front.
After all, Snape was one of the busiest people at Hogwarts. First, as a professor, he had to grade homework, track at least a dozen classes' progress, and prep lessons. Second, as Head of House, he had to mediate student conflicts, catch couples sneaking about, and handle student problems. And finally, there were the special errands Headmaster Dumbledore gave him.
Seen that way, Snape's temper made perfect sense—not only were his classes back-to-back, he also had to deal with hapless students every day. Sean could practically hear what he most often faced:
"Merlin's beard! Professor Snape, come quick—those Gryffindors are stirring up trouble again!"
Total overwork, with no TA to help.
If Sean remembered right, Snape's office was even on the far side of the underground…
Plenty of room to operate.
With that thought, even the Great Hall's fireplaces felt warmer.
Firelight wavered across the stonework as two shadows drifted past.
"Oh, I must say—I've never found a Charms essay this easy to write." Justin wore a faint smile, a lantern in his left hand, slipping a five-inch Charms paper and a light-blue notebook into his bag with his right.
"Sure, Justin—and who was it two days ago grumbling that a magic essay was harder than dressage?" Hermione tipped up her chin, eyes narrowed, giving him a "you're not normal" look, then marched into the Hall with an armful of books.
They'd clearly just come from the library; a faint scent of ink clung to them.
Turning in an excellent assignment is hard—take Charms: boiled down, it's "this is the wand motion; this is the incantation; now write me five inches on the Levitation Charm." The first-years' faces said: Huh? Me?
It looks like busywork, but to finish it you have to explore and think a lot on your own. Without living in the library, you can barely write anything; learning how to find the right references is Lesson One. So Hermione and Justin practically lived there. Compared to Hermione—who had memorized every first-year text and could find sources in a flash—Justin was much slower without that command of the books. Add Binns's muddled essay on top, and the first-years—at least the ones trying to do good work—were suffering.
But today, Justin had not only finished the one-foot History essay, he'd even written his Levitation paper in three hours. Since Flitwick's prompt was extra credit, even Hermione hadn't been that fast.
"You turned in a solid Charms essay, yet your Levitation didn't improve a whit this afternoon…" Hermione said, chin up, side-eyeing him. "I'm guessing you borrowed someone's framework—Sean's."
"All right, half right—it was Sean who told me the method." Justin showed no embarrassment; he smiled, sincere. "I'm sure Sean wouldn't mind me sharing it with you, but I should ask him first… Look, he's right there."
"Mm." Hermione didn't think a first-year's "method" could be all that precious—even if that first-year was Sean. Still, she glanced around for him.
The Hall teemed with students in identical uniforms; she began to suspect Justin had misseen. Then Justin suddenly sat down.
"Sean," he called warmly.
"Mm." Even in a pitched battle with a roast chicken, Sean found time to reply.
"Would you mind…" Justin began in a low voice.
"I wouldn't."
Before he could finish, the answer came from inside the chicken.
"Oh, good." Justin's smile widened. He passed a parchment to Hermione. "You've got to see this."
"Fine, but I'll say up front, I don't think—" Hermione pushed her hair back and took the parchment.
Ten minutes later, Sean sipped pumpkin juice; the sweetness always lifted his mood.
"I must say—this structure is brilliant. Oh… if only I'd seen it earlier…" Hermione sighed suddenly, flustered. Sean's hand twitched; the juice sloshed. He looked over to find her face slowly reddening, the tips of her ears turning pink.
"Sean—ah, I mean…" Hermione stammered; she was not used to praising someone to their face. Luckily, Sean stayed absorbed in his meal and heard nothing—while Justin, as ever, moved fast:
"What she means is—no, what I mean is—Hermione says the paper outline is fantastic! And your Charms notes too. If only I could apply the theory in practice…"
"Mm. The important thing is practice," Sean said with a nod.
He was also wondering whether the dungeon would welcome him tonight.
The answer was obvious. Tonight, the dungeon was dangerous. If Snape had gone down there to brew, it wouldn't be quick. So Sean decided to allocate the evening to his other six subjects—most usefully, Charms.
Which meant: find a place to practice spells. That would be tonight's goal.
"We're going to practice Charms, Sean. Want to come?" Justin asked suddenly, his light-grey eyes visibly brightening.
Sean blinked.
A few minutes later, three figures glided down the corridor and up a moving staircase.
There are one hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: some wide and grand; some narrow, tiny, and wobbly; some that lead somewhere different every Friday; and some where a step vanishes halfway up—you have to remember where to jump. There are also a great many doors that won't open unless you ask politely—or prod exactly the right spot. And some aren't doors at all, just solid walls pretending to be doors.
It's hard to remember where anything is, because everything seems to keep moving. The portrait people are forever visiting each other, and Justin swore even the suits of armor walk.
In a castle like that, a hidden room hardly seems strange at all.
~~~
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