"No letters, no one to write to, not even knowing his own birthday…"
At the long table, Justin was whispering something to Hermione.
The first rays of sunlight streamed through the tall stained-glass windows, casting dappled light across the long house tables in the Great Hall. The air was filled with the warm scents of toasted bread, sizzling bacon, and sweet pumpkin juice, but it was nearly drowned out by the noisy chatter.
Not far from Sean, a group of second-years was heatedly debating a charm gesture, waving their hands so wildly they almost knocked over a jar of jam.
Over at the Hufflepuff table, a burst of gasps erupted as a round-faced boy pulled a Cauldron Cake from a package. The "Never Go Hungry" club of little badgers practically pounced on it.
The Gryffindor table was even livelier, with a crowd gathered around their Quidditch captain, who was showing off his new broom-care kit, everyone talking over each other.
Suddenly, a flapping sound grew louder, like a thousand tiny drums beating at once.
"The owls are here!"
Someone shouted.
The noise hit a fever pitch, then shifted into a buzzing mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.
Dozens of owls flooded into the Great Hall like a gray tide, swooping in through the high windows and circling beneath the enchanted ceiling.
Letters, packages, and magazines rained down.
"It's a reply."
Hermione quickly tucked away a letter from home. Owl post might be sent anytime, but it still took a while to arrive.
The owl deliveries rarely got backed up, though, since they came like clockwork every day, keeping letters from piling up.
In Hogwarts' history, there was only one time the Great Hall saw a chaotic flood of owls—when Gilderoy Lockhart, out of vanity, sent himself eight hundred Valentine's Day cards during his school days.
"It's a reply."
Justin tucked his letter away too, his voice low. He glanced at the young wizard beside him, whose quill hadn't stopped scratching in his notebook, even with an ice pack on his head and steam rising from his ears from a Pepper-Up Potion. Nothing slowed his relentless studying.
Up at the high table, more than one pair of eyes was watching.
Justin's gaze dropped, his hands unconsciously tightening on his robes.
In the heavy atmosphere, he spoke up:
"Winters in Scotland are brutal. I… never saw him wear a proper cloak."
"I mean, it's… what he's been through shaped him, right?"
Hermione seemed to be talking about the cloak, but maybe not. As she tried to clarify, she met Sean's tired green eyes and pale face, and she couldn't find her words.
"No, Hermione," Justin said, turning his head, his face half-hidden in the dim light.
"I think, in those freezing winters, what he needed wasn't strength—it was safety."
…
When Mr. Owl said those words, Justin felt his blood practically boil.
"No one to write to… that's nonsense! Ha—there's a wizard dying to reach out to him—"
"Mr. Owl, you mean—!"
"I don't stoop to cheap lies!"
"Merlin… Merlin's owl!"
"I'm Lady Ravenclaw's owl!"
"Oh, sorry, sorry, Mr. Owl."
Justin's brain short-circuited.
Of course, of course—someone as talented and brilliant as Sean, abandoned? No way.
There had to be a special reason he ended up on his own.
He'd never doubt Mr. Owl. That magical creature had been around since Hogwarts was founded, and the little Gryffindor stories it casually told were the funniest jokes Justin had ever heard.
If it said a wizard wanted to contact Sean, then it was true—and it was probably someone important…
Justin, Merlin's beard, what an amazing thing you've done!
Liliana Finnery would be so proud!
"Mr. Owl, please—"
Justin was practically begging.
"Hmph—I've got one question."
"A hundred, if you want!"
"Are owls eagles?"
"Of course!"
"I'll handle this—go find your friend!"
Mr. Owl flapped its wings, and Justin swore he'd never seen an owl glow like that.
…
"Sean, Sean, you've gotta come here."
Justin burst into the classroom in a rush.
Sean was reading The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection alongside his notes, preparing for an upcoming lesson.
The Knockback Jinx—it was a type of dark magic.
Among the four types of spells—Charms, Curses, Jinxes, and Hexes—the Knockback Jinx fell under Jinxes, the least harmful of the negative spells. Annoying, but kind of fun.
Still, Professor Flitwick was cautious about teaching it. He'd given Sean a notebook full of warnings about dark magic's side effects, with the first line on the cover reading:
[Caution and restraint are the first principles of studying dark magic.]
"Sean, come with me, quick…"
Justin's anxious grin was unstoppable, and the ridiculous amount of concern he and Hermione had shown over the past few days—since Sean's illness—left Sean a bit exasperated.
He could hardly believe it: he'd closed his eyes for two seconds, and Justin and Hermione had thrown a blanket over him and turned off the lights.
"Alright."
Whatever the reason, Sean nodded.
The fireplace roared fiercely, and behind the surging flames were three faces with different expressions—
Justin and Hermione were so tense they could barely breathe, while Sean looked a bit confused.
They dragged him here… to sit by the fire together?
Well… that didn't sound so bad.
"Yes, Hermione, family—real family…"
Sean overheard Justin muttering, while Hermione sat ramrod straight, her face flushed—whether from the fire's warmth or nerves, he couldn't tell.
Suddenly, a handful of powder appeared in the fireplace.
Justin and Hermione held their breath completely, and even Sean leaned forward, expectant, staring at the flames.
—A stern face appeared before them.
"How… how could it be…"
Justin was utterly stunned.
"Mr. Owl, after all that…"
"Professor."
"Professor."
"Professor McGonagall."
Sean wasn't disappointed. He'd never seen a professor in a fireplace before.
A shrunken-down professor—pretty cool.
McGonagall glanced around the room and instantly knew this was that owl's doing.
She gave a curt nod, then met a pair of curious, sincere eyes.
Her gaze softened completely.
"Mr. Sean Green."
…
"Seeing Professor McGonagall so gentle was shocking, sure, and totally worth it, but that's not what I meant!"
Justin muttered in frustration.
Hermione shot him an exasperated look.
"Everyone knows Professor McGonagall has a soft spot for Sean. Of course she'd want to reach out to him. Only one person's the fool here."
Sean was closing the fireplace when he caught Justin's quiet voice:
"I'm sorry, Sean. I thought…"
"It's not your fault, Justin. You've done more than enough, and I'm grateful."
Sean picked up Professor Flitwick's notes.
"Losing some things doesn't matter. What matters is what I still have—like friends."
"Friendship, that's two hearts beating together."
Justin could almost hear his mother's soft words, and this time, his heart felt like it might shatter.