Hermione had a wonderful birthday—there's no doubt about that.
When her parents' faces appeared, she was so moved she nearly cried. Sean and Justin tactfully gave her space; they waited outside the classroom—Sean reading, Justin talking nervously at length. After a while they heard Hermione's soft voice calling them in.
The warmth on Mr. and Mrs. Granger's faces practically spilled over; they praised Justin until his cheeks went crimson—of course, Sean got swept up in it too. Under her parents' fond gaze, Hermione opened her gifts.
Justin's present was a set of lunar charts and astronomy instruments—just the thing for a little Miss Granger currently writing an Astronomy assignment. Sean gave her his compiled notes—even Hermione would admit that Sean's notes are weekend-saving artifacts for any first-year. Their structure, rigor, and readability far outstrip those vague, dreary textbooks—especially the nearly finished, widely circulated History of Magic set.
Late that night, a slip of paper suddenly appeared atop the notes. Hermione paused, checked that her roommates were asleep, and read:
[I want to say, Hermione: no matter what others say, your worth never changes. I know you know that—but please allow me to say it again.
—Your friend, Sean Green]
It brought a sting to the eyes of a lately downcast Hermione.
Sharing a special moment binds people together. In any case, the three first-years in that classroom grew closer. Justin and Hermione also noticed that Sean seemed even busier. He was out early, back late, collapsing the moment he fell into an armchair, then downing some strange potion—only to collapse again.
In return, his Transfiguration and Levitation grew stronger and stronger. Justin saw him levitate the classroom chairs, and turn a pebble into a tiny stone man with a sharp implement—though it could only take two steps.
In Transfiguration class, Sean even turned a desk into half a boar with gleaming tusks; he collapsed into his seat two seconds later, but he'd already scared the Slytherins in the corridor stiff. Goyle couldn't imagine taking a hit from that boar; the already-grounded Theodore quietly abandoned any thought of revenge. He didn't think his Dancing Jinx could beat a boar's charge.
…
It was a bright Saturday.
Owls brought loads of mail as usual. Justin received a gold-edged envelope; he tore it carefully and found a note from Mrs. Finch-Fletchley:
[My dear Justin,
I saw those moments worth remembering in your letter. You've made very good friends—that pleases me most. As I've told you, cherish them—gentle, right-minded people have the hardest time of it, because the world is neither right nor gentle.
—Forever proud of you, Liliana]
Justin tucked the letter away, dazed, and looked toward the boy wrapped in owls. He thought of their talk by the fire.
"Sean, I mean—there's a hearth here, tied into Floo, if you want to…"
"I don't have anyone to contact."
Sean had said that, then gone straight back to practicing Transfiguration.
…
The Hall was its usual roar. First-years love being there—maybe the warm hearths, maybe the buzz. In any case, it was full of kids snacking, gaming, debating, or doing homework.
"Hermione, have you noticed?" Justin's voice was low. "Apart from that one letter from… Sean doesn't seem to get any mail."
Hermione blinked, flicked her wand for a silent muffling charm, and whispered, "Of course I know… so…"
They each saw the weight in the other's face.
…
After Levitation hit Adept, an off-schedule problem popped up. Before Adept he earned +3 proficiency from Novice-standard casts; afterward, Novice earned only +1, and Adept standard gave +3.
Only the Expert standard still gave +50. He could feel it: low-standard practice yielded less and less insight. It was too shallow; the parts to fix were too many; the insights, too sparse. That pushed him to master harder techniques and climb higher.
But time was now painfully tight. To grind Levitation to Expert within the week, he slashed his trips to the dungeon and McGonagall's office. When he heard Neville was back and Bruce was often in the greenhouse, he even asked Professor Sprout for a few days off.
Saturday afternoon, Sean stumbled out of McGonagall's office pale—he'd wrung himself out these past days. Still, it paid off:
[Name: Sean Green]
[Proficiencies]
[Summoning Charm: Novice (3/900)]
[Aguamenti: Novice (2/900)]
[Levitation Charm: Adept (1200/3000)]
Adept-level drills no longer sufficed; he began pondering how to reach Expert. Flipping through Charms notes, he found Professor Flitwick's line:
[If you can make the feather spin, why not try it on that little table?
Once you've barely learned what first-years need, you'll find the mystery of silent casting waiting—there's never too much knowledge!]
"Silent casting, huh?" he murmured.
If Charms was hard, Potions was no easier. Snape was growing stricter—more guidance, fewer jabs. That led to an ominous outcome: finishing another Adept Antiswelling Solution, Sean staggered from the dungeon and had to pep-talk himself—he'd survived Snape's hell-training again. He hadn't even had time to test his emotion-in-brewing theory.
He glanced around and sighed—he, who'd memorized the rules, had just broken curfew.
Trouble came in pairs. No sooner had he stepped into the corridor than a soft meow sounded by his neck, drowning the owls' hoots. He looked down into two lantern-yellow eyes.
—Mrs. Norris.
Much as she was both dashing and cute, Sean's rule-abiding heart held only goodwill for her.
Tonight was different.
~~~
Patreon(.)com/Bleam
— Currently You can Read 100 Chapters Ahead of Others!