Chapter 73: The Fireplace
"Mudblood... what does that mean?"
In the corridor, three young wizards' shadows flickered and vanished in the torchlight. Beyond the glass, the sky wore a veil of pale indigo mist, and whenever sunset burned, the birds outside grew loud.
"No idea," Justin answered honestly.
Hermione gave him a helpless look. "I was not asking you. Shawn, do you know?"
"It is the wizarding world's most discriminatory slur for a Muggle-born witch or wizard," Shawn said.
"How bad is it?" Justin asked suddenly.
"There is nothing worse," Shawn added.
"I see, Shawn." Justin halted, then spun on his heel. Shawn heard him mutter, "Eton College next year would not be so bad. Mother will be proud of me."
Shawn and Hermione quietly caught his sleeves and drew him back.
"No need to go back," Shawn said softly.
His words always worked. Justin stopped at once and asked, more thoughtfully, "Because of Professor Snape?" Even saying the name made his voice drop.
"Mm."
For Slytherins who had just trampled every one of Snape's untouchable rules, it was hard to imagine the fury that would follow. Better to move. Compared to a scuffle among six first-years, Snape's private handling would be far more frightening.
Hogwarts had rules, but if nothing was written down, the rules were empty. If they stayed, they would only hamper Snape and then be held to account themselves. If they left, a certain Potions Master would forcibly turn it into an internal Slytherin matter.
Outside, rain came down in sheets, and night turned black as ink. Inside, lanterns lit the classroom warmly. Three cups of hot milk sat on the little desk.
Hermione's mood was visibly low. Her quill whispered over letter after letter. Out of a sense of boundaries, Justin sat a bit farther away and so drifted over to Shawn.
Shawn was still mapping out his plan. "Whether the scholarship comes through depends on this last week. First grind Wingardium Leviosa to Expert. Then learn the Smokescreen Spell (Fumos) and the Knockback Jinx (Flipendo), finish the three Defense spells that a first-year is meant to master. That should secure an Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the Galleons will be enough for a few years."
When he finished that line, he added, "Hogwarts is not always safe. Pure-blood prejudice and discrimination do not vanish. If not for that, two Dark Lords would not have found so many followers. Stronger magic is necessary."
When it came to powerful magic, Shawn thought first of Transfiguration. Why not the Dark Arts? Think about it: an orphan, keen on the Dark Arts, with a bit of influence... enough. He cut that thought short.
Transfiguration.
He wrote the word at the very top.
The wizarding world held many great magics. The most destructive was broadly acknowledged to be the Dark Arts. Beyond that lay the elegant, profound art of Transfiguration. In the battle at the Ministry, Headmaster Dumbledore had nearly beaten Tom head-on using Transfiguration alone. In the original accounts, Dumbledore brought the golden wizard statue to life, shielded Harry, knocked Bellatrix flat, and sent other statues to swarm Voldemort and even block a Killing Curse.
Shawn believed that truly advanced Transfiguration could, in the thick of a fight, turn whatever lay to hand into allies that helped you win, which was to say, they gained a spark of life. It also suited his gifts perfectly.
The Quick-Quotes Quill scratched out his timetable. He gave the bulk of his hours to Transfiguration and Charms. Even Potions-brewing and greenhouse time were shaved down.
"Oh—"
A chuckle escaped Justin before he could stop it. Shawn turned and saw him grinning foolishly at a slip of paper. The sound made Hermione blush and wish she could hide her head in her letter.
"Oh, Shawn, we should be more careful, best not to be found out... this is for you."
Justin seemed to come back to himself. With a wary glance at Hermione, he set a folded note in Shawn's hand.
I want to say thank you for helping me, Shawn.
"Whatever you do, do not get caught," Justin began, and then watched Hermione, cheeks bright red, leave the classroom and slam the door behind her.
"Too late," Shawn said mildly.
"So, using that method, how do you plan to apologize?" he added, looking Justin over.
"I knew I could not fool you," Justin said, full of confidence. "Do not worry. My father taught me a hundred ways. They all work."
He eased the door open and checked that the young witch had indeed gone.
"Remember, Hogwarts has many doors. If you do not politely ask them to open, or do not press the right spot, they will not. Some are not doors at all, only solid walls that seem to be."
He walked to a certain patch of wall and said, "Lard." He added, in English, "pork fat."
A moment later, a door shaped like a sheet of flame appeared, then vanished, revealing a fireplace roaring alive.
Its firelight bathed seven soft armchairs, and Justin stood in front of them looking very proud.
A room within a room?
Shawn stared at the space that had not been there a breath earlier and felt something tug at him. It was like recognizing the ink of an old letter, only time had soaked the paper and blurred the lines, leaving a water-stained ghost of memory.
"Mr. Owl told me about this," Justin said. "Of course, one fireplace by itself does not do much, but what if it is connected to the Floo Network?"
He could not hide his excitement. The heavy shadows under his eyes eased a little. Floo powder was one of the wizarding world's standard ways to travel. Short of traveling, a witch or wizard could shove any part of themselves into the flames, a head, for instance, and talk without stepping through.
"What could be better than seeing your family on your birthday when you are far away? Better still, having your friends with you," Justin said, alight.
"You… worked a long time for this," Shawn said after a moment, and his voice wavered.
"Not really. My mother's friends and the Owl Post did most of it. You know me. I only handled contacting Hermione's parents and..." Justin broke off, then spoke quickly.
"You did well, Justin. Hermione will be happy." Firelight danced in Shawn's emerald eyes. "You should rest. Leave the rest to me."
"...All right."
Justin fell quiet and agreed, sincerely. He knew what Shawn meant. Contacting people far away was not simple. Someone would need to keep watch by the fireplace on Thursday, or the surprise could sour into embarrassment. Given how worn he looked, Shawn thought, Justin should go and sleep well.