Chapter 142: New Members
The Gryffindor table was packed for lunch. Harry and Ron were deep in discussion, stabbing at their sausages and mash with forks as they debated various strategies. None were particularly feasible, but the brainstorming kept their spirits up.
Ron was also teaching Harry Wizard's Chess. It was exactly like Muggle chess, except the pieces were alive, which made it feel much more like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was old and battered, having belonged to his grandfather, but he knew the pieces intimately and commanded them with ease. Harry was playing with Seamus Finnigan's set, and the pieces didn't trust him at all. They kept shouting conflicting advice, making his head spin.
"Don't send me there! Can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him!" a bishop shrieked.
"Not the knight!" Harry muttered, rubbing his temples and trying to ignore the squabbling pawns.
Scattered around them were several books: Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, Notable Magical Names of Our Time, Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. They looked like they were searching for someone.
Predictably, Harry lost the match. He and Ron exchanged a grim look. It was time to face the problem that had been plaguing them.
"There must be a test," Ron said with conviction. "Remember the 'Blind Passage Club'? Fred and George started it secretly – officially called the Castle Explorers Club, but really just an excuse to find secret passages. Their initiation test was running headfirst into a wall with your eyes closed. No one knew if there was actually a passage behind it or not. Everyone said it was terrifying."
Harry remembered. The twins had winked at a terrified first-year outside the changing rooms: "If you don't run at it with your eyes closed, you'll never know if the passage is real."
Determination sparked in Harry's eyes. "We'll pass the test!"
Anything was better than failing their homework. Professor McGonagall had already torn their Transfiguration essays to shreds, and Snape had gleefully deducted five points for their "incompetent scribbles." If this continued, Gryffindor would be in negative points by Christmas.
"What are they doing?" Hermione whispered, watching them approach the Great Hall entrance with an air of tragic heroism. They hid behind a suit of armour, clearly waiting for someone.
The giant hourglasses recording house points stood near the doors. Ravenclaw was firmly in the lead, their sapphires piled high. Ron had despaired that without winning the Quidditch Cup, they'd never catch up. "But at least Slytherin won't either," he'd added cheerfully.
The food on the tables vanished, the plates wiped clean. Sean picked up his copy of The Fifth Element: Explorations and headed for the Room of Hope.
He spotted the two figures lurking in the shadows. "Harry? Ron?"
They appeared so often he felt compelled to acknowledge them.
"Oh! Sean! We want to take the test! Whatever the organization is, we..." Harry jumped, startled by the sudden address. Realizing what he'd just blurted out, he looked horrified. Ron's face mirrored his despair.
"Mm. I agree. Ron, you, and Harry. But you'll have to ask the others," Sean said, looking at them steadily.
He understood immediately what they wanted. He wasn't opposed to it; if everyone in the Room of Hope agreed, he wouldn't object. Besides, having Harry and Ron close by might provide useful updates on... certain dark wizards.
"Ah—you mean, ah, I mean... there isn't a test? Like running into a wall or something?" Ron stammered, the surprise derailing his train of thought. He found himself babbling about the imaginary test they'd concocted.
His eyes grew misty. Sean had said Ron, you, and Harry. He hadn't been excluded.
"Running into a wall?" Sean raised an eyebrow.
"Oh! Ron means we'll go ask them right now!" Harry clapped a hand over Ron's mouth and dragged him away.
"...Ron, why did we have to mention running into a wall?!" Harry hissed once they were out of earshot.
"I dunno!" Ron's face was still red with embarrassment and relief. "We just lose our heads around Sean!"
Harry looked at his friend and started to laugh. Ron joined in.
Wednesday Morning.
The Room of Hope.
Sean sat by the fire, organizing his notes. He added significant updates to the Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts sections, then placed the notebooks in the wooden cabinet by the entrance.
As he passed, the enchanted mirror shouted, "Clean! Tidy! But your style is a chaotic disaster!"
Sean glanced down at his outfit: scarf, jumper, gloves, robes, hat... all gifts from different people, all slightly mismatched. Fair point.
He returned to his seat and opened an Alchemy text, preparing for his afternoon session with Professor Terra.
Outside, a commotion arose.
"Mr. Finch-Fletchley, are you sure we don't need to do anything?" Harry's voice.
"Oh—yeah, I mean, we don't mind..." Ron's voice.
"Do you think this is some sort of dungeon?" Hermione's voice, exasperated but amused.
"Of course not. The important thing is—Mr. Owl," Justin announced cheerfully.
Harry and Ron finally noticed the portrait of the snowy owl wearing spectacles.
"It's amazing..." Ron whispered to Harry, trembling with excitement.
"Little wizards! More foolish little wizards! Answer my question!" Mr. Owl hooted, eyeing them disdainfully.
"A talking owl portrait?!" Ron jumped, nearly tripping over his own feet.
(End of Chapter)
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