"Sean's and Harry's are nicer than ours," Fred said, feeling Harry's jumper. "Clearly Mum puts in extra care for people who aren't family."
"Why don't you put yours on, Ron?" George asked. "Go on, wear it—those jumpers are handsome and warm."
"I don't like maroon," Ron grumbled—half-true, half-teasing—as he pulled the jumper over his head.
"There's no letter on yours," George said. "She must think you won't forget your own name. We're not daft—though she often calls us 'Goredge' and 'Freorge.'"
"What's all this fuss? Oh—Mr. Green." Percy Weasley came over, apparently hoping to be friendly. He had a parcel in his hand—clearly in the middle of opening presents—and a bulging jumper was already slung over his arm. Fred snatched it.
"'P' stands for Prefect! Put it on, Percy—come on, we've all got ours on."
"I—do—not—want—to—wear—"
He mumbled, but the twins didn't care; they jammed the jumper over Percy's head and knocked his glasses askew.
"You two!" Percy shouted, and chased the twins.
"Alright, not the point…" Ron said helplessly, nudging Harry.
Harry, oblivious, was about to open a box.
"Harry—check that in the Hope Nook," Sean said—he already guessed what it was and quickly stopped him.
"Oh—oh…" Harry blinked, then shot Sean a grateful look. His head was full of the joy of sharing a secret with friends—Sean surely knew more than they did. But he had nearly forgotten—he wanted Sean to know, not the entire Hall.
Tea was turkey sandwiches, hot flatbreads, sherry trifle, and Christmas cake. Sean barely noticed, but after eating, Harry and Ron both grew a bit drowsy.
"That's only lunch… I heard there'll be eight hundred casks of spiced mead at dinner and the Weird Sisters' music…" Ron said.
When Harry pulled out the Invisibility Cloak, everyone fell silent.
It was a liquid-like, silvery-grey thing that slid to the floor, pooling and flashing with light.
"This is… my father's," Harry murmured, holding the note, a little dazed.
"He must have loved you, Harry. You should use it yourself first," Sean said. Whatever small schemes Ron had evaporated.
Yes—Harry should use it himself.
It seemed Harry would be out wandering at night soon. Sean thought, if he remembered correctly, this time Harry would see the Mirror of Erised.
Sean wasn't very curious about the mirror; the magic he most desired—he already had.
The Christmas holidays arrived and the first-years went wild.
But Sean always had more important things to do, so he left the Nook.
"Harry—Harry… don't you feel like Sean's talking more? Like just now—he wouldn't have said a speech that long…" Ron nudged Harry with his elbow.
"Really? I suppose…" Harry nodded.
Sean's slight oddity came from the same cause as the professors' near-total disappearance.
Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore beamed—particularly after watching a certain Potions Master stare at the kettle for more than ten minutes; the twinkle behind his glasses only brightened.
"Oh—" Dumbledore sighed suddenly.
Snape glanced toward the door by reflex, then shot Dumbledore a vicious glare. "You should have your throat looked at, Albus," he said darkly.
"The one I've been wanting to see isn't Poppy… it's your letter, Minerva," Dumbledore said, moustache springing.
Minerva McGonagall nervously took the letter from the owl's talons. It was a Ministry notice—informing them the ceremony was about to begin and that all must attend.
Not only she, but Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout and others all received one.
Looking at the notice, Dumbledore's gaze seemed to pierce Hogwarts' ancient walls and see the wizard so nervous he'd turned into a cat to hurry there.
"Black cats—what do you think of black cats? As the 'luck' statue on the third floor," Dumbledore said with a wink.
"I see your taste is as poor as ever, Albus," Snape said coldly.
"Good-luck black cats," McGonagall said with a slight nod.
"But of course—" Dumbledore laced his fingers and laughed with pleasure. He neither admitted nor denied—only shot Snape a meaningful look.
At the gargoyle outside the office—
A black cat leapt into the air and became a first-year in black robes. Sean didn't have the password this time; he was about to try "Cockroach Cluster" when the gargoyle impatiently jumped aside.
The wall behind it split in two, revealing the spiral staircase rising slowly upward.
"He's here—heavens—" the Fat Lady cried, suddenly appearing in a frame inside the office.
"Grace, my lady—at crucial moments we must retain our grace," Sir Cadogan said stoutly from his pony, trying to calm her.
Lady Violet wore a formal white gown; she drew the Fat Lady close, both watching the door with nerves aflutter.
Then the bronze griffin knocker was drawn back. A head appeared—then a figure in black robes.
"What an exciting moment—" Dumbledore stood, wearing his Start-of-Term robes with a floor-length purple cloak and buckled high-heeled boots. The blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles blazed.
"Then let me read—"
…
"Now—I declare—that the 'Special Order of Adoption, jointly issued by Hogwarts School and the Ministry of Magic,' takes effect immediately!"
Dumbledore winked at Sean.
And Sean was swept into the arms of Professor McGonagall—elegant, almost at a run.
He had once run like that himself; now—the wind in his ears grew louder in exactly the same way.
Professor Flitwick clapped hard; Professor Sprout smiled like winter sunlight.
…
Sean didn't know how he left the office. He only knew that a fine rain had begun at Hogwarts—and he stood within the castle, with a place to keep dry.
On the desk in the Headmaster's office, a name on a register had changed:
Sean Green — Guardians: Minerva McGonagall; Severus Snape