Chapter 80: I Have Friends
"No letters arrived… no one to contact… doesn't even know his own birthday…"
Justin murmured quietly to Hermione amidst the breakfast clamor. The first rays of sunlight streamed through the tall, stained-glass windows, casting dappled patterns across the long house tables. The air smelled sweetly of toast, bacon, and pumpkin juice, but the aromas were nearly drowned out by the noise. Near Sean, several second-years were loudly debating wand movements, nearly knocking over the jam pot with their wild gesticulations. A cheer erupted from the Hufflepuff table as a round-faced boy produced a cauldron cake from a parcel, instantly swarmed by his fellow 'Never Go Hungry' club members. The Gryffindor table was even rowdier, surrounding their Quidditch captain, Oliver Wood, who was demonstrating his new broomstick polishing kit.
Suddenly, a rushing sound, like hundreds of tiny drums, echoed from above.
"The owls are here!" someone shouted.
The noise level peaked, then subsided into an expectant buzz. Dozens of owls swept into the Great Hall, circling beneath the enchanted ceiling, dropping letters, packages, and newspapers like feathered rain.
"A reply," Hermione noted, tucking a letter from home into her bag. Owl post was swift, but not instantaneous. Deliveries were usually staggered throughout the week, preventing chaotic logjams like the one famously caused by Gilderoy Lockhart when he'd sent himself eight hundred Valentine's Day cards during his student years.
"A reply," Justin echoed, pocketing his own letter, his voice subdued. He looked over at Sean. The boy sat amidst a flock of waiting owls, an ice pack still strapped to his forehead, steam faintly rising from his ears – a side effect of the Pepperup Potion – yet his quill never stopped moving across his notebook. He seemed oblivious to the surrounding activity, lost in his relentless studies.
Several pairs of eyes at the staff table watched the scene with varying degrees of concern. Justin's brow furrowed, his hand unconsciously tightening on his robes.
"Scotland gets incredibly cold in the winter," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I… I've never seen him wear proper winter robes."
"I suppose," Hermione murmured, looking away from Sean's pale, exhausted face, "it's… the losses that have shaped him, isn't it?" Her words seemed to hang in the air, referring perhaps to more than just clothing.
"No, Hermione," Justin said softly, turning his face away so it was hidden in shadow. "I think, in those cold winters… what he needed wasn't strength. It was safety."
Later, Justin recounted his conversation with the owl portrait, his voice trembling with excitement.
"'No one to contact'… Of course, that was a lie! Ha! There is a wizard who desperately wants to contact him!" the owl had hooted.
"Mr. Owl, are you saying—?!"
"I never stoop to base falsehoods!"
"Merlin's… Merlin's owl!"
"I am Lady Ravenclaw's owl!"
"Oh, apologies, apologies, Mr. Owl!" Justin had stammered, his mind racing. Of course! Someone as brilliant and talented as Sean wouldn't just be abandoned! There must be a reason! He trusted the ancient, eccentric portrait implicitly. If it said someone was trying to reach Sean, then it must be true. And it was most likely… Justin, you magnificent badger! You've done something wonderful! Lillian Finch-Fletchley will be so proud!
"Mr. Owl, please, you must—" Justin had pleaded.
"Hmph! I have but one question—"
"A hundred questions, anything!"
"Is an owl an eagle?"
"Absolutely!"
"Then I shall handle this matter myself! Go find your friend!" the owl had declared, puffing out its chest feathers, looking almost radiant in the dim light.
"Sean! Sean, you have to come here!"
Justin burst into the hidden room later that day. Sean was reviewing The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection and his notes, preparing for Flitwick's lesson on the Knockback Jinx (Flipendo). It was classified as a Jinx, the least harmful category of Dark Magic – annoying, but generally minor. Still, Professor Flitwick approached the subject with caution, providing Sean with a separate notebook detailing potential side effects and countermeasures, the first page inscribed: Prudence and restraint are the first principles when dealing with the Dark Arts.
"Sean, come with me, quickly…" Justin's face was alight with suppressed excitement, yet also tinged with the same exaggerated concern he and Hermione had shown since Sean's illness. Sean sighed inwardly. Their constant hovering was becoming a bit much. The previous night, he had merely closed his eyes for a moment to rest, and they had immediately covered him with a blanket and extinguished the lights.
"Alright," Sean agreed, putting his books aside.
The fireplace in the hidden room roared, casting dancing shadows on the three anxious faces gathered before it. Justin and Hermione looked practically catatonic with nerves. Sean was mostly just confused. Did they drag me here just to sit by the fire? Well, it was rather pleasant.
"Yes, Hermione, family, real family…" Justin was muttering under his breath. Hermione sat ramrod straight, her face flushed – whether from the heat or anxiety, Sean couldn't tell.
Suddenly, a handful of shimmering powder appeared in the flames. Justin and Hermione held their breath. Even Sean leaned forward slightly in anticipation.
A stern, familiar face materialized in the green fire.
"How could… How could it be…" Justin stammered, utterly bewildered. "Mr. Owl, what have you done…"
"Professor."
"Professor."
"Professor McGonagall."
Sean wasn't disappointed. He'd never seen a professor in the fireplace before. A miniaturized McGonagall. Fascinating.
Professor McGonagall's fiery head surveyed the room, her expression unreadable. She acknowledged their greetings curtly, her gaze lingering on Sean's curious, sincere eyes. Her stern features softened almost imperceptibly.
"Mr. Sean Green."
"I was surprised to see Professor McGonagall looking so… gentle," Justin confessed later, still slightly dazed. "Definitely worth it. But that wasn't what I was hoping for!"
Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Professor McGonagall's fondness for Sean is common knowledge. It's perfectly normal for her to contact him. Only a fool would think otherwise."
As Sean closed off the Floo connection, he heard Justin's quiet voice. "I'm sorry, Sean. I really thought…"
"Justin," Sean interrupted gently, picking up Flitwick's notes, "it wasn't your fault. You did more than enough. I appreciate it." He paused, then added, "What I've lost doesn't matter as much as what I still have. Like friends."
"Friendship, ah, that is the mutual vibration of two hearts." Justin felt as though he could hear his mother's voice whispering in his ear. This time, his own heart felt close to breaking.
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