Chapter 141: The Plan
Professor Snape was a stark contrast to Professor McGonagall. When Sean made a mistake in Transfiguration, McGonagall would gently guide him back to the correct path. Snape, on the other hand, would sneer, force him to articulate his error, and then deliver the correct method wrapped in layers of biting sarcasm.
Prepared for this, Sean quickly filtered out the insults and noted down the hidden gems of knowledge as Snape's tirade subsided.
The cauldron fire died down. Wrapped in his thick scarf against the dungeon's chill, Sean focused on his parchment.
Snape watched him coldly, his gaze fixed on the sheet covered in the details of the Fusion Enlightenment Method.
Knowledge of absolute value… knowledge every Potions Master would kill for…
Snape had never imagined anyone could be foolish enough to share such secrets. Yet here was this boy, this anomaly. An indescribable feeling, a mix of unease and revulsion, churned beneath his impassive mask.
"You should not tell anyone… Sean Green…" he murmured, his voice a sinister whisper. "However… it is an acceptable method."
Sean, exhausted, thought he had misheard. "What did you say… Professor?"
"I said… acceptable… GET OUT! NOW! IMMEDIATELY! Take your idiotic equipment and get out!"
Snape's temper flared without warning. Sean was practically thrown out of the dungeon, ten Galleons following him out the door and landing in his hand.
Safely in the corridor, Sean vowed never to speak when exhausted again.
"I knew you were a warrior!" A burst of laughter echoed down the hall. Sir Cadogan was clutching his sides, howling with mirth. "Oh! Young Green, I simply must tell everyone about this…" He laughed until tears streamed down his painted face, oblivious to the fact that Sean had already reached the end of the corridor.
"Sir Cadogan, is he…" Sean asked the Fat Lady, who had wandered into a nearby frame. The knight was sometimes a bit too bold. Consider his record: charging Headmaster Black, challenging him to fisticuffs; openly mocking Professor Snape at the dungeon entrance…
Hearing the screams now echoing from the dungeon entrance, Sean stared back for a long moment.
"Oh—my foolish Sir Knight… I hope he knows to run far, far away in the afterlife…" The Fat Lady dabbed at her eyes, her head bowed, though she kept peeking at Sean when she thought he wasn't looking.
Sean stared, momentarily stunned. He hadn't realized the knight was actually in mortal peril.
"Fat Lady—you're scaring young Green…" Lady Violet appeared in the frame, carrying a bowl of fruit. She spoke soothingly.
Sean then noticed that the Fat Lady's "tears" were merely water she had splashed on her face. He walked away without a word.
"Well, are you happy now?" Lady Violet huffed, stuffing an apple into the Fat Lady's mouth. "Fat woman, I hope this apple shuts you up."
Great Hall.
Hermione was arguing with Harry and Ron as they entered.
"I've suspected Snape for a while," Harry told her. "On Hallowe'en, he tried to get past that three-headed dog. It bit him. We think he's trying to steal whatever the dog is guarding. The dog—no, that's Fluffy, he's Hagrid's—Hagrid bought him from a Greek chappie he met in the pub last year—he lent him to Dumbledore to guard something valuable."
"Yes, Hermione, don't you see? At the Quidditch match, he was jinxing Harry's broom! Trying to kill him!" Ron added indignantly.
"It wasn't Professor Snape! He wasn't the one casting the jinx!" Hermione retorted.
"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints!" Ron snapped.
"If you don't believe me, ask Sean!" Hermione stamped her foot in frustration.
The three of them parted ways.
"We can ask Sean! Because Sean will agree with her… He knows her better than us…" Ron said, deflating slightly, his tone annoyed.
Harry wasn't sure who was right, but he felt a growing sense of unease about their plan.
Not far from the Gryffindor table, Sean was eating at the Ravenclaw table, which always had the most pudding. Justin and Hermione watched Harry and Ron whispering together.
"What do you think? Will Sean agree? Justin… apart from them being a bit thick." Hermione asked worriedly. Despite finding Harry and Ron exasperating, she had accepted them after Justin had explained their strange behavior.
Think about it. Harry was famous but had no skills to match his fame. Someone at Hogwarts was trying to kill him, and he had identified the wrong suspect. The enemy was like a viper in the grass, waiting to strike this "poor orphan." And Harry hadn't even mastered simple charms! He spent all day playing Quidditch—wasting his time!
"Sean?" Justin smiled gently. They both looked at Sean, who was flipping through a notebook that exploded with confetti every time he turned a page—another "surprise" from the Weasleys.
"What do you think, Hermione? I mean, how long until they dare to ask?"
"Those two idiots…" Hermione sighed.
"Don't worry, Hermione. Give them time. Not everyone is born standing in the sun…" Justin comforted her, though his gaze lowered, not resting on Harry or Ron.
Thanks to his mother's teachings, he understood people well. Harry was an orphan, but his relatives provided for him; he didn't worry about freezing or starving. Ron had many brothers and felt inferior to their success, but he was undeniably happy. Money doesn't always equal happiness, his mother said.
Harry, though thin, never ran out of energy in Charms class. Ron was poor, but the packages he received from the Weasleys were as plentiful as anyone's.
The fire crackled. A faint light flickered in Justin's eyes. Outside, the snow fell heavily, masking the cold, rough earth. His voice was lost in the wind and snow:
"Hermione, you know… unlike them, some people are just too brave and quiet. We forget… the pain they endure."
(End of Chapter)
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