"Merlin, why is that? Because it's weird enough?" Justin's light gray eyes showed confusion.
At that moment, a violent wind swept past the window, causing the magical lantern Justin had hung on the wall to sway uncontrollably. He poked Shawn and Hermione, finally pulling them from their reading.
Hermione's brow furrowed slightly, her cheeks puffed out as if about to protest, but then she caught sight of Justin's slack-jawed expression. His hand pointed toward the window.
Along the edges of the ancient stone walls that formed three sides, a figure came streaking toward the castle like lightning, sweeping past the open, arched window and bringing a whistling gale. The broomstick's tip glinted in the sunlight.
"So it's because it's cool... I guess I understand now." Justin's murmur carried away on the wind, but the eagerness in his eyes was unmistakable.
"Don't even think about it, Justin." Hermione's voice was sharp. "First-year students aren't allowed to fly unsupervised. Haven't you memorized the school rules?"
"Huh?!" Justin stood there, stunned like a block of wood.
"Don't tell me you came to school without learning the school rules." Hermione wasn't too mesmerized by the older student who had just flown past on a broomstick. Instead, she was more concerned about the bewildered young badger.
"If you haven't memorized the school rules, how can you ensure you won't break them?"
"I don't know... I thought Hogwarts wouldn't be so strict..." Justin was momentarily stunned. He unconsciously looked toward Shawn. "Shawn, have you memorized the school rules?"
"Yes." Shawn's nod made Justin's eyes go completely dull.
In fact, to ensure he could definitely stay at Hogwarts, Shawn had even memorized the school rules backwards. Hermione was right. First-year students were forbidden from owning broomsticks, but they could participate in Flying class with Madam Hooch's supervision. Although not many first-year students could afford a personal broomstick anyway, the rule ensured that no first-year student could bring one to school.
"Here, take this." Hermione placed a brown-covered book with gold trim in Justin's arms, filled with precise notes. The young badger's dull eyes brightened again. He held Hogwarts: A History, and heard Hermione quietly call him an "idiot."
"Also, wizards don't use magical broomsticks just to show off..." Hermione turned the page of Quidditch Through the Ages.
Three little heads huddled together again.
[We therefore agreed that magical power should be kept hidden at all costs from the non-magical world, and that wizarding settlements must be isolated and concealed. If a wizard should wish to keep a flying broomstick in the garden shed, it could hardly go unnoticed by the neighboring Muggles. A solution had to be found.]
"So they chose a broomstick?" Justin hadn't expected this answer, but he nodded understandingly quickly. "If my neighbor were a wizard, I'd have a hard time controlling myself wanting to learn about them too."
The afternoon sunlight slanted through the arched window, dividing the small classroom into alternating bright and dark warm spaces. Faint dust danced slowly in the light column, like countless tiny golden sprites, then suddenly trembled.
The three researching Quidditch were suddenly startled. Knocking sounds came from outside the door again.
"Oh! It's Ernie. If he knocked on the wall next to us, it means he'll be waiting for me in the Great Hall." Justin suddenly awoke to realization. He quietly called Shawn.
"It's about Professor Snape. I had Ernie and the others help with something. After all, our combined strength makes us more powerful."
Shawn nodded thoughtfully, then the two said goodbye to Hermione and left the classroom. Justin added one more thing.
"Hermione, don't worry. I won't tell anyone the classroom's location. After all, this is our three's secret! I promise..."
Hermione, immersed in reading, seemed not to mind this at all. Only after Shawn and Justin left did her eyes become slightly red-rimmed.
In the Great Hall, a short, plump blonde boy sat restlessly, holding a book, his eyes constantly drifting toward the entrance.
All right, Finch-Fletchley said he'd meet me here, so he definitely will. I shouldn't worry about this—I should worry about Friday's flying lesson. Ernie thought.
"Ernie!" Justin scanned the Great Hall and found the boy at the Hufflepuff table.
"Justin!" The plump boy immediately responded. Justin hurried over with Shawn.
Looking at this not-unfamiliar face, Shawn's mind flashed with much information. Ernie Macmillan. A nine-generations pure-blood Hufflepuff, an equally sincere Hufflepuff. He had mistakenly believed Harry was Slytherin's heir. After Hermione was petrified, he gradually realized Harry was innocent and publicly apologized to him. Harry accepted his apology.
What left a deep impression on Shawn was during the Battle of Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall said to Ernie, who was a prefect: "Prefects, as soon as you receive your orders, take your house students and make an orderly retreat toward the Room of Requirement." But Ernie MacMillan rarely said seriously: "What if we want to stay and fight?"
Ernie brought joyful news—Professor Snape was grading papers today and had been in his office for quite a while. Shawn immediately retrieved his brewing tools and materials from the classroom, heading toward the dungeons.
As to why he absolutely had to brew in the dungeons, it was because first-year students didn't have the right to take cauldrons out of the dungeons. If they could, one could imagine Hogwarts would welcome many explosion experts. Potions wasn't a safe subject. Just like chemical experiments had to be done in labs, this dangerous activity couldn't be done casually.
White smoke wisps once again drifted above the cauldron. Shawn's expression was focused, his hands never stopping. Soon, the cauldron began to gurgle and bubble. Only the faint sound of breathing and the cauldron's boiling remained in the dungeon.
When Professor Snape left his office and came to the dungeons, Shawn had already left, satisfied with three proficiency points.
Master Libatius Borage was right. Without sufficient mental will, one couldn't complete the improved ritual. Since the last potion brewing, Shawn's fatigue had persisted. This fatigue was deep-seated. According to Master Libatius Borage's estimate, it would last at least five days.
While waiting for the fatigue to completely recover, Shawn didn't remain idle. If one word could accurately describe what he was doing, it would be: avoidance.