Chapter 66: Come Find Me
In the corridor, Sean cast a curious glance back at Sir Cadogan. The knight had his back turned, still engaged in his eternal struggle to mount the painted pony. He seemed otherwise unharmed.
"Young Green," Lady Violet called out, blinking her painted eyes curiously, "you always look rather peaky after your lessons."
"Which was it today? Charms, Potions, or Transfiguration?"
"Transfiguration," Sean answered honestly, stealing another look at Sir Cadogan. Perhaps Professor Snape is more… lenient… with portraits?
As soon as Sean was safely out of earshot, a choked laugh echoed from Lady Violet's frame. "Alright, my dear Sir Knight, young Green is gone."
The knight slowly turned around, revealing a visage drastically different from his pristine back. His gleaming breastplate was dented inwards in an unnatural curve, the nose guard of his helmet bent sharply to the left. The jaunty red ostrich plume was snapped in half, dripping muddy brown paint. His face was a disaster: left eye swollen shut, right eye bulging wide, moustache matted with some kind of sticky slime and dotted with suspicious mushroom fragments.
"What are you looking at?!" he bellowed, his voice hoarse but still loud, glaring fiercely at the students passing by. "Haven't you ever seen the badges of honour from glorious battle?!"
But when a few brave students peeked around the side of the frame, they couldn't stifle their giggles. Sir Cadogan's back remained immaculate – the silver-blue cloak spotless, the velvet smooth, the backplate polished to a mirror shine reflecting Hermione Granger's passing frown. Even the tassel on the hilt of his sheathed sword swayed elegantly.
"Hahahaha! Oh, Sir Cadogan, you truly suffer for your art!" Lady Violet wheezed, helpless with laughter.
"Vile trolls! Cowardly tactics, ganging up on a knight!" Sir Cadogan roared, startling a nearby first-year into dropping their books. "And that despicable…" He glanced nervously around, then lowered his voice to an indistinct mumble.
With the help of Snape's revitalizing potions, Sean's progress in Charms had become remarkably swift. Where before he needed long breaks, now half an hour was enough to recover a significant portion of his magical energy.
"Agua—men—ti!" Sean's wand traced the arc of flowing water, and a steady stream followed its path. It didn't last long, but the ability to direct the flow indicated increased proficiency.
[You have practiced the Water-Making Spell once to the Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
Sean checked his Panel:
[Summoning Charm: Apprentice (3/300)]
[Water-Making Spell: Novice (2/900)]
[Levitation Charm: Novice (200/900)]
He was hopeful he could get the Summoning Charm to Novice level before tomorrow. The thought brought a smile to his face.
"Agua—men—ti!" Hermione's confident voice rang out, and water streamed from her wand tip as well. "It seems a wider arc really does work better…" She meticulously sketched the curve in her notebook, while another quill – Sean's – automatically added details about the precise intonation. Hermione then lifted her chin, glancing pointedly at Justin, who was still struggling.
"My mother says every stream finds its own path," Justin said with a gentle smile, completely unbothered by his slower progress. "But guess what? They all reach the sea eventually."
His words made Hermione blush slightly. She turned away. "Fine. See if you can manage on your own then."
"No, what Mother meant was," Justin persisted, holding up his wand helplessly, "all rivers eventually meet. Hermione, would you be willing to help a temporarily stranded stream?"
Hermione puffed out her cheeks but moved closer anyway. "Hmph! Your emphasis is all wrong!"
Wednesday.
The vaulted ceiling of the Great Hall still reflected the pale violet light of dawn. Thousands of candles floated overhead, casting a warm glow. The four long house tables were already bustling with activity. Sleepy-eyed first-years in pyjamas nearly poured pumpkin juice into their cereal. Two Hufflepuff girls huddled over Transfiguration notes, jam smudged on their hair. Laughter erupted from the Ravenclaw table as someone made their History of Magic textbook perform a tap dance.
The morning owl post arrived in a flurry of feathers, delivering packages and copies of the Daily Prophet. Today seemed particularly busy. More than ten owls landed near Sean, patiently waiting. Perhaps owls gossip too, he mused. Why else would more show up each day? While battling his breakfast, he flicked his wand, sending torn pieces of toast, nuts, and scraps of bacon towards the weary messengers.
Hermione received an unusually large number of letters and parcels today, revealing stacks of books, elegant quills, and various sweets as she opened them. Her mood seemed considerably lighter, and she spent most of the meal diligently writing replies.
Justin was absent, having spent the last two days practically living in the Hogwarts kitchens. He had used his own owl to help Hermione send her letters and had thus accidentally discovered a crucial piece of information: tomorrow was her birthday. After some discreet inquiries, he had embarked on a top-secret baking mission.
He had also casually asked Sean, "What about you, Sean? When's your birthday?"
Sean had paused, then simply shook his head. He didn't know. For an orphan raised in an institution, the day you were found was often assigned as your birthday. But the caregiver who had found Sean had long since left, driven away by the meagre pay. And the orphanage hadn't celebrated birthdays in years. Knowing his actual date of birth felt like an unattainable luxury.
He hadn't noticed the look of stunned silence on Justin's face as he shook his head.
In the Great Hall, owls visited every table. Hermione unwrapped a package containing a fluffy stuffed toy, her initial annoyance melting into a soft, fond smile as she carefully placed it in her bag.
Sean's section of the table, however, remained conspicuously empty of mail. He didn't mind. While attacking a lamb chop, his thoughts drifted to the Weasley twins. Could he possibly commission them to "acquire" a broomstick for him? With his recent earnings from Snape, he might just be able to afford a Nimbus 1500, even factoring in the twins' likely exorbitant fee…
His thoughts were interrupted by an owl landing directly in front of him, looking unusually proud and important. It held out a single, crisp envelope. Sean offered it a piece of lamb chop, but the owl simply dropped the letter into his hand and waited expectantly.
Sean hesitated. I'm an orphan, right? Is this… a ghost delivery? Then again, he'd encountered stranger things at Hogwarts. He opened the envelope.
This is indeed for you. Come find me, child.
—Minerva McGonagall