When the final bell rang on Friday afternoon, a wave of pre-weekend euphoria swept through the second-year students. Sean and Blaise maintained their usual routine, heading to the library until it was time for dinner. Afterward, Blaise departed to meet his senior-year girlfriend, while Sean collected the potion ingredients from Andy and secluded himself in the Room of Requirement.
He had his story straight for tomorrow night's excursion to Hogsmeade: he was accompanying Andy to purchase the Bicorn horn and Boomslang skin for Harry and the others. While he could have simply entrusted Andy with the task—a fact that had clearly puzzled his friend—Sean had offered a simple excuse. The recent intensity of brewing had left him drained, and he needed to get out for a stroll. Hearing this, Andy had immediately dropped his questions and readily agreed to the plan.
Hours later, Sean emerged from the Room of Requirement, the finished potions carefully stowed away. He was heading back to the Slytherin Common Room when a strange, prickling sensation crawled up his spine as he reached the second-floor corridor. Frowning, he quickened his pace, an inexplicable sense of dread settling over him.
Suddenly, Peeves the Poltergeist burst through a nearby wall, cackling and zooming through the air. "DEAD! DEAD! A FIRSTY IS DEAD! LITTLE RAVENCLAW'S GONE TO BED! FOREVER!"
Ravenclaw? First year? Dead?
The words slammed into Sean, and his mind raced. Realization dawned in a horrifying flash. He drew his wand without a second thought and sprinted in the direction Peeves had come from.
When he rounded the corner, Harry and Ron were already there, frozen in place. They stared at the fresh, bloody words scrawled across the wall, then at the still figure on the floor below. They opened their mouths to speak as Sean arrived, but at that moment, a flood of students, drawn by Peeves's shouts, began to pour into the corridor. Their eyes fell upon Sean and Harry, then upon the unmoving first-year Ravenclaw girl.
Luna Lovegood.
Ignoring the gasps and whispers from the crowd, Sean immediately knelt beside her. A quick, careful examination confirmed his hope: she was petrified, not dead. Her body was rigid as stone, but she was alive.
His eyes scanned the area and immediately locked onto a tall suit of armor standing in the corner. It was polished to a mirror shine. Sean knew instantly what had happened. Luna must have seen the Basilisk's lethal gaze reflected in the gleaming metal, a horrifying, second-hand glimpse that had saved her life.
He stood, a question forming in his mind as he looked around at the scene. It was the same in the original story, and it was the same now. Every single victim—human, ghost, or cat—had encountered the Basilisk indirectly. Was it all just a series of incredible coincidences? Or was there another secret, a hidden force at play?
Is someone, or something, influencing the Basilisk? Preventing it from making a direct kill? Petrification could be reversed. A direct look from the King of Serpents was a final, irreversible death sentence.
Dumbledore? He was likely the only one in Hogwarts with the power to intervene so subtly. Or is there another force protecting this castle? If that were true, why was Moaning Myrtle killed all those years ago?
Am I overthinking this? Are they really just coincidences?
"Sean… is she… is she okay?" Harry's voice was a strained whisper.
Sean shook his head. "She's not okay, Harry. But she's alive. Petrified, but alive. There's a chance to save her, though she'll be missing the rest of this year's classes."
"Mr. Bulstrode is right. Miss Lovegood will indeed be missing the remainder of the school year."
Dumbledore's calm voice cut through the nervous chatter. He arrived with Professor McGonagall and the other Heads of House in his wake. Gilderoy Lockhart trailed behind them, clearly eager to rush to the forefront and offer his useless expertise. But when he saw Sean, he stopped short, executing a clumsy turn to hide behind Dumbledore's towering frame.
Sean paid the coward no mind. He gave a respectful bow to the Headmaster and the other professors. "Good evening, Professors. When Harry and I arrived, she was already like this. We came when we heard Peeves shouting. Perhaps you can get more information from him."
As he spoke, his gaze swept over the crowd of onlookers. He spotted him instantly. Standing at the edge of the group was Marcellus Bulstrode. His face was flushed, his breathing heavy. To anyone else, he might have looked nervous or winded from running. But Sean knew better. It was the thrill of what he had done, the intoxicating excitement of causing such chaos.
He got the diary Thursday night and couldn't even wait until Saturday. Sean thought with a mix of disgust and dark amusement. I don't know if the diary was too eager or if Marcellus's moral compass is just that broken.
Dumbledore looked at Sean and nodded gravely. "Thank you, Mr. Bulstrode. Your quick assessment is most helpful. Now…" He turned to his staff, his voice resonating with authority. "Severus, Minerva, Filius, and Pomona, please escort your students back to their common rooms immediately. They are to remain there until further notice. The attacker may still be at large. I will handle things here."
"And me! You can leave it to me!" Lockhart chimed in from behind the Headmaster.
Dumbledore ignored him completely. "I will take Miss Lovegood to Poppy in the hospital wing, where she will receive the best possible care. Also…" He turned to the Head of Hufflepuff. "Pomona, I must ask you to accelerate the matter we discussed."
Professor Sprout nodded, her face grim. "Of course, Albus."
"Dumbledore, I thought the matter of the potion could be left to me…" Snape began, his voice a low drawl.
"Severus, you have more important duties," Dumbledore interrupted gently but firmly. "Let Pomona see to this. Her expertise with Mandrakes is precisely what is needed to ensure the draught is brewed to perfection."
[Chapter Complete]
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