Chapter 242: The End-of-Term Feast
The Weasley twins had received excellent news from Sean.
For the entire duration leading up to the End-of-Term Feast, they went about humming cheerful tunes, occasionally popping half a head out from behind portraits to give students out of bed a nasty fright.
The feast quickly became the primary focus for the young wizards. Despite the various rumors that had been flying about previously—the Alchemical Symposium, the Lucky Black Cat, or Snape's supposed assassination of Quirrell—as the school year drew to a close, the students were far more concerned with the final results of the year.
Individual honors were hardly worth discussing. After all, no one could surpass Mr. Green, unless one managed to score a hundred and twenty-one on a hundred-and-twenty-point exam.
But collective honor—the House Cup—became the most debated topic of all.
The day before the feast.
The castle began to bustle with activity as the professors started decorating the Great Hall.
Professor Flitwick was leading the effort personally, followed closely by his most prized student, Sean Green. Everyone in the school knew of their connection.
The Great Hall was being decked out in the blue and bronze of Ravenclaw to celebrate their victory in the House Cup. A huge banner depicting the Ravenclaw eagle hung on the wall behind the High Table.
At that moment, Professor Flitwick was enlisting Sean's help to place some small Ravenclaw decorations around the hall.
"Dear Mr. Green, it truly hasn't been easy. Ravenclaw hasn't won the House Cup in a very long time..." Professor Flitwick said in his squeaky voice, even dabbing away a stray tear.
The Ravenclaws behind him looked somewhat embarrassed. The "Eagles" were generally not as fixated on collective honors; despite their formidable talent, the championship usually went to the more combative Gryffindors or the unscrupulous Slytherins.
The hall was quieter than usual today. The Slytherins were doing their best to stay away from the Great Hall, as they were fuming with suppressed rage.
As for Gryffindor, the atmosphere there was decidedly strange.
Since the exams had ended, Ron hadn't stopped describing the "great feats" performed by himself, Harry, and Hermione. Previously, the Gryffindors led by Seamus Finnigan had been quite happy to listen; Ron spoke with great cadence, and in a Hogwarts flooded with rumors, it made for a good story.
But now...
Sean had just managed to escape the Great Hall. Professor Flitwick was so overjoyed that he had taken to actively boasting to Professor McGonagall.
"Yes, Minerva, were you aware that we achieved a magnificent score of five hundred and eleven points? Truly gratifying; a fine score even in the history of Hogwarts. It's all thanks to dear Mr. Green..."
He would usually stop mid-sentence, realizing his old friend beside him was maintaining a very forced smile.
Sean had long since fled before any of that could happen. As he walked through the corridors, Ravenclaws greeted him at every turn.
"Sean, I told you you were the savior of Ravenclaw," Michael Corner said with his usual exaggeration.
"Mr. Green, thank you for your contribution," Prefect Penelope Clearwater said, looking spirited as she clicked past him.
Sean nodded in greeting. Glancing casually down the corridor, he saw Ron and the others looking rather unwell, surrounded by a group of equally disgruntled Gryffindors.
"Weasley, stop lying! Forbidden Forest stories, trapdoors—I reckon you're lucky enough not to have been caught and lost even more points!" Dean Thomas growled in a low voice.
"Gryffindor has only two hundred and fifty points! Merlin's beard—we've never had a score this low!" Seamus glared at the group.
Think about it: Gryffindor should have had five hundred and fifty points! That is, if they had won the Quidditch match and if Harry and the others hadn't lost those hundred and fifty points.
Now that Ron was still talking about trapdoors and other unsubstantiated claims, the others had reached their limit.
"It's true..." Ron could only mutter weakly. He couldn't argue back, because they had lost many points, and they had failed at Quidditch.
Harry looked so ashamed he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him, and Hermione's expression was no better. In fact, she had already heard far too many unkind whispers. Even though she had personally earned over fifty points, the Gryffindors didn't care about that. Lost points were always more memorable than points gained.
Sean walked over from a distance. Seamus and the others gave a cold snort and left, finally easing the pressure on the trio.
"Don't dwell on it. There might still be a surprise," Sean comforted them.
"What kind of surprise could there be?" Ron asked, his face a mask of misery.
The End-of-Term Feast began.
As they entered the Great Hall, the cautious Harry and his friends bumped into the Slytherins. The Slytherins had been irritable, but seeing Harry's group made them cheerful enough to applaud.
"Potter, thank you for ensuring Gryffindor got such a low score. Possibly the lowest in years? Haha!"
"In a few weeks, they'll have forgotten all about it. Fred and George have been losing points since they started, and people still like them," Ron said, trying to offer comfort despite his own grim expression.
"But they never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, did they?" Harry asked sorrowfully.
"Er—no, I suppose not," Ron admitted.
The Great Hall was a cacophony of noise, with all sorts of delicacies piled high. Justin was sharing some culinary magic tips with Sean, and Sean was listening intently.
Then Hermione, Harry, and Ron snuck into the hall. Seeing them sitting at the Ravenclaw table, the Gryffindors—who usually didn't mind such things—felt particularly annoyed today.
Fortunately, a moment later, Dumbledore arrived, and the noise in the hall gradually subsided.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man'
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