Kill all the Squibsand Mudbloods?
Heh...
Sean slowly straightened in his seat, a perfectly practiced, noble smile on his face, designed to convey profound interest in Barrett's words. But deep down, Sean was already looking at Barrett as if he were a dead man.
This young fanatic harbored thoughts that were not merely dangerous but utterly deranged. His malice, though outwardly directed at Squibs and Muggle-born witches and wizards, Sean knew, extended equally to those like himself, born into prominent wizarding families that had strayed from the "pure blood" doctrine. Rather than allow him to graduate, to one day join Voldemort's ranks and become a persistent nuisance, it would be far better if Barrett Keton never left Hogwarts. Better for him to remain forever trapped in his own foolish, immature fanaticism.
Of course, if he were to act again, he could not use a curse. One unfortunate "accident" might be overlooked. A second would inevitably draw Dumbledore's full, terrifying attention. Sean even suspected that Dumbledore already had suspicions about Tarkun's demise, his uncanny foresight likely piecing together the fragmented clues. It was only because Sean had been meticulously thorough, and the curse itself was exceptionally subtle, that he had escaped direct scrutiny. Coupled with Tarkun's own rapidly darkening path, Dumbledore had likely chosen to let the matter drop. But a second instance would surely trigger a relentless investigation, one Sean could not hope to evade. So, no curses.
"Barrett," Oliver said, cutting through the silence, "tell us your thoughts. What exactly do you propose?"
Barrett nodded gravely at Oliver, acknowledging his prompt, then launched into his zealous monologue. "My meaning is this: Slytherin must go completely silent. We must secretly search for the true Heir of Slytherin, fully support him, unleash the Basilisk, and cleanse Hogwarts!"
Sean almost laughed aloud. This boy was an enigma. On one hand, he possessed an impressive, if chilling, talent for deduction, connecting the vague clues of the Chamber of Secrets to the Basilisk. On the other hand, his pronouncements about "cleansing Hogwarts" were so profoundly idiotic, they could only originate from a mind with a literal ten-level brain damage.
He seemed to forget the sheer number of powerful professors within the castle walls, not least of whom was Albus Dumbledore. He also seemed to forget the Basilisk's inherent limitations. And most crucially, he forgot that among those present, nearly every single one had friends or even relatives who were Muggle-born or from what he considered "tainted" bloodlines. How could they possibly agree to such a grotesque "cleansing"?
Barrett's plan was ludicrous, yet Sean could see the warped logic behind it. Barrett had clearly convinced himself that the Heir of Slytherin was none other than the Dark Lord himself. In his twisted vision, finding Voldemort, aligning him with the Basilisk, and then cleansing Hogwarts would be a simple matter.
A pity for him, Sean mused, that his great Master is still possessing snakes and scrounging for rats in the Albanian forests.
And here, at Hogwarts, there is only... me. This fake Master.
Yes, and the diary is in my possession.
When the meeting concluded, a vote was called. Predictably, Barrett's monstrous proposal was overwhelmingly rejected. They were Slytherins, yes, but they were not "Voldemort-therins." While many in the room admired power and might have once paid lip service to the Dark Lord, most were rational. Voldemort, the last they heard, was dead, or as good as. Why would anyone bother with a ghost, especially one who demanded such suicidal loyalty?
Sean kept a close eye on Barrett. He had expected a fanatical display of anger or disappointment. To his surprise, Barrett showed no reaction, a calm detachment that suggested he had anticipated the outcome.
Interesting, Sean thought. Was that idiotic fanaticism just an act? Or did he truly hold no hope for his proposal?
Barrett quickly excused himself, claiming fatigue, and slipped out of the meeting. Samuel and Irina, concerned that Sean might be unsettled by Barrett's disturbing remarks, urged him to rest, not doubting his excuse for a moment.
Sean, however, did not return to his room. Instead, he made his way to the Great Hall, where he found Harry and Ron engrossed in a game of Wizard's Chess.
"Harry, could I trouble you with something?"
Harry looked up, his face lighting up with a smile. He noticed a few strange looks from the Gryffindor table as Sean approached. He immediately pushed back his chair and led Sean to a quiet corner of the Great Hall.
"Sean, what is it? Just say it. If I can help, I will."
In Harry's mind, Sean was a true friend. Sean had helped him more times than he could count, even saving his life last year. Though not as intimately close as Ron and Hermione, Sean often offered surprisingly astute and useful advice. Harry valued their friendship.
"Harry," Sean began, getting straight to the point. "I know you have an invisibility cloak. Could I possibly borrow it for a short time? If you're concerned, I can—"
"Sean, what are you talking about?" Harry interrupted, looking incredulous. "How could I not trust you? Come with me. I'll get it right now. Just give it back when you're done."
Harry pulled Sean with him toward the Gryffindor common room. Conscious of the lingering stares from his housemates, Harry was careful not to let Sean get too close to the Gryffindor entrance. He dashed inside, retrieved the shimmering, silken cloak, and quickly returned, pressing it into Sean's hand.
"Here, Sean. Take it."
Sean accepted the cloak, tucking its impossibly light, flowing fabric into his embrace. "Harry, thanks a lot."
"You're welcome, Sean. We're friends."
"Alright then. I'll be going. I'll return it as soon as I'm finished."
The two parted ways, Harry returning to his chess game, Sean heading back to the Slytherin common room.
Sean's Disillusionment Charm, while effective, had its limitations. Its concealment could be pierced by experienced wizards, especially at close range. But the Invisibility Cloak, one of the legendary Deathly Hallows, was a different league entirely. With this top-tier magical artifact, Sean could calmly follow Barrett Keton, remaining utterly unseen, and finally discover what the fanatical boy was truly planning.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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