Rain was pounding outside the windows, blowing the curtains up and back.
Justin shut the window and the room returned to its usual quiet warmth.
"Sorry, Harry. I probably can't make it either. Look at this Pumpkin King—I want to carve a little lounge inside it."
Justin sounded apologetic.
"Th-that's… fine."
Harry looked even more disappointed. He shouldn't have agreed so early.
"I-I also…"
Neville stammered his refusal as well.
Harry slumped into his chair, head bowed, looking a bit pitiful.
"Um…"
Ron was stuck in a painful dilemma. While he was torn, he happened to see Sean sigh.
"You've already said yes, Harry?" Sean asked.
"Yeah… I guess I could tell Sir Nicholas I might… have something else to do…"
Harry mumbled.
"A word once spoken cannot be taken back," Hermione said loftily, reminding him, "You said you'd go to the deathday party, so you can't back out."
"I suppose… yeah."
Harry replied weakly, which made Hermione flush and hurry to correct herself.
"I mean…"
"You mean we're a group, right?" Justin said, tapping the giant pumpkin with a hammer and chisel as he cut out a window. "If you promised to go, then we should move together. But next time, maybe ask what everyone thinks before you say yes."
He turned back with a smile.
"Is that what you think too, Sean?"
Sean gave a small nod.
Harry lifted his head and saw everyone watching him with amused looks.
For some reason, he suddenly remembered what Justin had said with a smile:
"My mum says friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity."
Time erodes memory as always, but friendship is like a stone in a river—water flows over it and polishes it smooth.
Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets. Sitting here with his friends, Harry couldn't think of anything luckier.
"We'll come back early, all right? Then maybe we can still catch the feast in the Great Hall."
Justin dropped the carved-out pumpkin chunks into his oven. When he saw Sean unconsciously glance toward it, the smell of roasting pumpkin was already spreading through the room.
The discussion ended on the warm, sweet scent of pumpkin. In the end, the six of them decided they'd go take a look, but wouldn't stay long.
Time flew, and soon it was afternoon, the sun slanting low.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team trudged back from practice, Harry still splattered with mud.
A broom came streaking up beside him, sweeping step by step along the floor next to his feet, and when he'd changed clothes it zipped away again.
"A cleaning broom?"
Harry frowned—this looked exactly like one of Sean's inventions.
It was practically the twin of the one in the Room of Hope.
He sighed. Even with no wind and no rain, this practice hadn't been pleasant.
Fred and George had been spying on the Slytherin team. They'd watched those brand-new Nimbus 2001s with their own eyes.
They'd come back to report that the Slytherin players were now just seven blurred green smears in the air, streaking past like jet planes.
The thought had been weighing on Harry—he really didn't want to lose to Slytherin.
But the next piece of news blew his frustration away: he'd be going to Hagrid's hut, the day after tomorrow—right after Halloween.
Everyone would be there. Sean would be there. And Sean would be coming back to the castle with Hagrid afterward.
Just thinking about it put a spring in Harry's step on the way back.
He hurried to the Room of Hope and listened at the door. Everyone seemed to be talking about the deathday party and ghosts.
Sean, as always, was staring out the window. Harry felt sure he must be thinking about something profound, like how to turn a wizard into a dragon or how to transform a table into a giant.
Sean?
He was thinking, if the essence of magic really was a wizard's faith, then how strong was his faith in magic?
Watching Tirra crawl over the old tomes in the wooden cupboard, his thoughts drifted.
Rita and the other reporters would be arriving at Hogwarts soon. For the sake of some very pointed questions, Hagrid was even willing to drink Veritaserum.
His testimony would be powerful evidence.
Thinking of that, Sean paused.
Veritaserum?
Maybe… that wasn't a bad idea either…
It could force a wizard to speak only the truth. If Sean drank just a drop, maybe he could finally find out the answer he wanted most.
He had a small supply sitting in his vault—bottles Snape had put there to "fill out" the empty shelves. Now, they might have a special use.
So how was he going to fetch it?
Sean quickly sketched out a plan in his head.
…
The day before Halloween.
Rita was on her way to Hogwarts, along with several excited reporters.
They were all coming on the invitation of the Fairy Tale Shop. On paper, that shop represented both Hogwarts and a certain African school—Wagadu.
With "external influence" involved—some mysterious foreign school—the reporters would have to rely on the art of language to dig out truly explosive material.
And as long as the story was explosive enough, they could more or less ignore the Ministry—after all, not all of them worked for British papers.
And it was on this day that Sean was stopped in the corridor.
"Great Sean!" Fred cried, arms flung wide. "Can you believe it? The second shop—yes, the second Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is about to open!"
"Honestly, it's all thanks to you—" George added, eyebrows dancing.
"No matter what you've got planned for the day after tomorrow, just toss it all in the bin!" Fred declared.
"You know how to get there," George said with a wink.
"So: the day after tomorrow, one o'clock. Don't stand us up."
Before Sean could even respond, the twins had shot off down the corridor, cackling.
In truth, they'd been planning this for a while; they'd only just nailed down the date.
And Sean had to admit—it would line up nicely with his own plans.
"Good morning, Sean."
At the door to the Room of Hope, Sean was—unsurprisingly—the first to arrive. Justin stood beside him, carrying a small box.
It was a little warming box under a constant-temperature charm, perfect for keeping food fresh.
"Morning," Sean answered.
Through the white glass, he could see the glistening surface of roast beef.
"You still remember the Green Bookshop idea?" Justin asked as they stepped inside.
"Opening soon?" Sean was genuinely surprised.
The Green Notes had become almost as popular as Oddball Wizard Chess.
Justin couldn't handle the load alone anymore. He'd brought in help, then finally rented a place just to print and ship. Of course they'd eventually dream of their own storefront.
"Third-years can go to Hogsmeade—that place is perfect. I managed to talk my way into one of the shops there. Opening day is… the day after tomorrow," Justin said, smiling.
~~~
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