The Slytherin Brotherhood Group's meeting filled the prefects' compartment, its enchanted lanterns casting a soft glow, like the Great Hall's floating candles. With everyone present, Irina cleared her throat, her voice steady. "Everyone's here, so I'll keep this brief. The three seventh-years who graduated last term are now full Slytherin Brotherhood members. We owe thanks to Sean—his paper in The Golden Crucible secured Slytherin's seven-year streak of House honors."
Oliver Foley shifted, his expression tight. "We all know this. No need to repeat it. Sean's paper mattered, sure, but that seven-year streak came from every young Slytherin's hard work. Let's not downplay that."
Irina's smile didn't waver, sharp as a charmed blade. "Oliver's right—the streak reflects everyone's efforts. Absolutely. But as you said, Sean's paper stopped an unfair loss. His contribution shouldn't be overlooked, should it?"
Oliver's eyes flicked to Irina, then to Sean, who sat calmly, as if the debate wasn't about him. Forcing a tight grin, Oliver nodded and fell silent, the tension lingering like a misfired spell.
Irina pressed on, steering the meeting to its core. "This year's fifth-year prefects have been chosen. You know their performance and family backgrounds. Let's vote—do you agree to invite them to join us?"
Irina raised her hand first, followed by Samuel. Dovlia Shafik and Oliver followed, along with most others. Two members kept their hands down—perhaps opposing, abstaining, or holding personal reservations. It didn't matter; the raised hands secured the vote, and the fifth-year prefects were in.
Sean had raised his hand with Irina, honoring their deal from last term. He'd back Irina and Samuel fully in the Brotherhood, and they'd fast-track his status and influence. A win-win, sealed with Slytherin cunning.
The new prefects entered, introducing themselves with confidence. Even facing Sean—a second-year—they showed respect, no hint of dismissing his youth. Their deference spoke to Sean's growing reputation, bolstered by The Golden Crucible and his Brotherhood role.
Irina resumed, outlining Slytherin's goals for the year—House points, Quidditch dominance, academic prestige—and handling minor logistics. For Sean, the details blurred into tedium. He voted with Irina and Samuel when needed, but otherwise became a silent observer, his mind drifting to potions and alchemy. He pondered the mind-clearing brews Andy wanted to upscale, their ingredients dancing in his thoughts like a cauldron's simmer. Time slipped by, the compartment's hum a distant backdrop.
When the meeting ended, Sean stood, stretching. He left the carriage, the corridor bustling with students. As he headed back, he spotted Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom approaching, Hermione's face etched with worry.
"Sean, there you are!" Hermione said, breathless. "Harry and Ron are missing. They're not on the train. Have you seen them?"
Sean's mind flickered to a long-ago memory—not from this life, but from a Muggle childhood, curled up watching Harry Potter films on a borrowed tape. The details were hazy, like a Pensieve memory half-forgotten. He'd read the books too, years back, but only fragments stuck—oddly specific ones, like this moment. Harry and Ron hadn't boarded the Hogwarts Express, thanks to Dobby's meddling. It was straight out of Chamber of Secrets, a tale he hadn't revisited in ages.
"Sean? Sean!" Hermione's voice snapped him back.
He blinked, focusing on her. "The Hogwarts Express isn't that big. If you've searched and they're not here, they didn't board. But don't worry—Harry's special to Dumbledore. He won't miss Hogwarts. Plenty of professors don't take the train either; they get there fine, don't they?"
Hermione exhaled, her shoulders easing slightly. Sean's calm tone, backed by his top marks last term and his Golden Crucible paper, carried weight. She trusted him, much like she did Harry and Ron, though her brow stayed furrowed. "But why didn't they board? What if something happened?"
Sean knew exactly why. Dobby, desperate to protect Harry, had blocked them—part of his stand against Lucius Malfoy's plot. A dark magic item, likely Tom Riddle's diary, was headed to Hogwarts, threatening to unleash chaos. Dobby's plan was to keep Harry away, safe from the horrors tied to Voldemort's past. But Sean couldn't spill that. His role wasn't a seer's, and dropping such knowledge would raise questions he wasn't ready to answer. Maybe one day he'd play the prophet card—or invent a mysterious contact only he could reach—but not now.
"Harry and Ron are sharp wizards," he said, his voice steady. "They might hit a snag, but they'll make it to Hogwarts. We're stuck on this train with no way to check on them. Panicking won't help—let's stay calm and talk to the professors when we arrive. Sound good, Hermione?"
Hermione nodded, her worry softening under Sean's logic, though her eyes still darted down the corridor, as if hoping Harry and Ron might appear.
Hermione's expression softened under Sean's calm reasoning, her worry easing like a charm settling over a restless crowd. She thanked him, her voice quieter now, and left with Neville, their footsteps fading down the Hogwarts Express corridor. Though Hermione got along well with Sean, the compartment brimmed with Slytherins—Blaise, Jason, Andy—and she wasn't keen on lingering among them, her Gryffindor instincts keeping her at a distance.
Sean watched her go, then slid back into the compartment, Kurkan still coiled lazily on the table, soaking up the enchanted sunlight. He stayed quiet for the journey, his mind turning over the Brotherhood meeting, Harry and Ron's absence, and the diary's looming shadow. The train's rhythmic clatter was a familiar lull, carrying them toward Hogsmeade.
At Hogsmeade Station, the students disembarked, the air crisp with autumn's bite. First-years were herded toward the boats, while older students, including Sean, Blaise, Andy, and Jason, climbed into Thestral-drawn carriages. Sean's gaze lingered on the skeletal, winged creatures, their leathery forms visible to him alone in his group. He'd killed Quirrell last year (Philosopher's Stone), watched the life drain from him, and that grim act had marked him, granting him sight of the Thestrals. Blaise, Andy, and Jason, untouched by such loss, saw only the carriages, blissfully unaware of the creatures pulling them.
Hogwarts' house-elves whisked their luggage to the dormitories, leaving the students to ride from Hogsmeade to the castle. The carriages rattled along, the path lit by floating lanterns that bobbed like will-o'-the-wisps. Sean sat quietly, the Thestrals' eerie presence a reminder of his past and the choices ahead.
In the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling sparkled with a starry night, mirroring the excitement below. Students found their House tables, and Sean settled at Slytherin's, flanked by Blaise, Andy, and Jason. The buzz of chatter filled the hall as they waited for the Sorting Ceremony. The heavy doors creaked open, and the first-years shuffled in, wide-eyed and nervous, led by Professor McGonagall.
Andy leaned toward Sean, his voice low but teasing. "Sean, remember this day last year? You stormed in and knocked Malfoy flat outside. Shocked us all—fighting before the Sorting even started!"
Blaise chuckled, his grin as sly as a charmed portrait. "When I saw you take down Malfoy for insulting you, I knew you were solid—someone I'd get on with."
Their laughter rang out, carefree and loud, ignoring Draco Malfoy, who sat a few seats away, his face darkening. Blaise's voice carried, and Malfoy caught snippets, the words dragging him back to that humiliating day a year ago. His knuckles whitened around his goblet. "You wretched half-blood," he muttered under his breath, "you won't stay smug for long." Sneering, he shot Sean a venomous glance, then turned away, his expression cold and silent.
Sean barely noticed, his attention on the Sorting Ceremony. Three first-years had already joined Slytherin, their green-trimmed robes gleaming under the candlelight. Then Professor McGonagall's voice rang out: "Ginny Weasley!"
Sean's eyes snapped to the red-haired girl stepping forward, her features already hinting at striking beauty. She was far lovelier than the Ginny he recalled from the films. However, Sean noticed her not because of her looks, but because he vaguely remembered that Voldemort's diary, which was a Horcrux, was currently in Ginny's hands, slipped to her by Lucius Malfoy.
He wanted it.
Badly.
As the Sorting Hat bellowed "Gryffindor!" and Ginny joined her House table, Sean sank into thought, weighing his options. Another name broke his focus: "Luna Lovegood!"
He looked up, catching sight of a girl with long, tangled dark golden hair spilling to her waist, pale eyebrows, and slightly bulging eyes that gave her a perpetually startled look. Luna wasn't unattractive—pretty, even—but her oddity shone through. Her robes were adorned with mismatched trinkets, setting her apart from the film version he vaguely recalled. This Luna, felt more vivid, her quirks a quiet defiance of the ordinary.
"Ravenclaw!" the Sorting Hat declared, and Luna drifted to her table, her dreamy gaze wandering.
Sean's eyes flicked back to Ginny, now chatting at the Gryffindor table. His mind churned. Getting the diary through honest means was near impossible—Ginny wouldn't part with it willingly, not yet. The question gnawed at him: was the diary worth risking dark methods, spells or schemes that could land him in Azkaban? The Horcrux's power tempted him, but the cost loomed large, a shadow as heavy as the Thestrals he alone could see.
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Author's Note:
Please collect, vote, and read!
The Ginny and Luna here are described based on their appearance in the novel.