Sean had a hunch he'd found the missing piece for the Magical Creature Biscuit. In his mind, the professor's words echoed:
"You've worked hard in the deepest waters. Like the alchemists before you, you now see there's no way forward there—so I ask you to look at it with different eyes."
So—different eyes…
Sean had a few guesses.
After December's heavy snows came a string of rainy days.
The first-years returned to Hogwarts buzzing with excitement.
Justin was the first back; he hugged everyone in the classroom one by one.
"Oh, you'll never guess what I saw in Diagon Alley," Justin said.
"What?" Harry and Ron were all curiosity.
Sean had already guessed.
"Obviously—"
He pulled out a photograph of a shop jammed with people. At the door stood a friendly young witch, enthusiastically selling all kinds of animal-shaped biscuits.
The photo seemed to have been taken from far away; you could see, at regular intervals, wizards in server uniforms going around with posters. In huge letters the posters read—Animal Party Transfiguration Biscuit Series – Limited Time, Limited Quantity, While Supplies Last!
"Cool—Fred and George have always dreamed of opening a shop like that!" Ron stared, transfixed, at the poster; the bold copy almost had him reaching for his purse—though he had only a few sad Sickles.
Justin shot him a strange look. With so much important info, how had Ron missed all of it…?
"You'll never guess what I saw in Diagon Alley!" Hermione came into the Hope Nook, carrying a bag of gift boxes.
Everyone gathered round and stared at her.
"…You definitely won't!" She stepped in, then caught Sean by the sleeve as he tried to slip off to the alchemy office—fixing him with a discreet, appraising look.
"Which one of you goes first?" Ron ventured.
"Alright, me—" Hermione arched a brow at Sean and began in a storyteller's tone: "I went to Diagon Alley—my parents don't go often, so we had a look. When we went to buy that flossing sweet, we saw this shop…"
Her voice shot up:
"Sean! You kept this from us!"
"Kept… what?" Harry blinked.
"Oh, Harry—at key times you and Ron aren't around; I'll explain later. Justin—you saw it too?" Hermione asked, glancing at the photo.
"Mm. I wanted to buy a—some— but they were sold out. When I asked the manager witch's name, she dragged me inside and sold me one full series. And told me to bring a message to hurry Sean along," Justin said slowly.
"A series?!" Hermione puffed out her cheeks.
…
A new shop opening in Diagon Alley is normal—but if it's called Weasleys & Green Wizard Wheezes, that's different.
"So, Sean—you and Fred and George opened a shop? And it's already the talk of Diagon Alley?" Ron said, incredulous.
"Across Britain, actually—Weasleys & Green offers owl-post 'online' sales," Justin said with a grin.
"Merlin! I've got to get some from Fred and George! I've had my eye on that Gendoka Knight forever!" Ron bolted.
Remembering something, Sean's lips twitched.
Outside the Nook, Ron had barely reached the Great Hall before a Gryffindor blocked him.
"Ron! You've ruined me!" Dean pounced without preamble.
"Tell me later—I need to find Fred for something, Dean," Ron said, knocked to the floor and scrambling up again, mind full of that ultra-rare knight, caring about nothing else.
"Oh? Oh, really? Can I come?" Dean, baffled by Ron's confidence, followed along.
Afternoon, in the Great Hall.
Joy at reuniting spilled everywhere.
Golden plates and goblets brimmed with food and drink. The returning students dove in, piling a serving of everything they could reach; laughter and the clatter of cutlery rang up and down the four long tables.
"Fred!" Ron bellowed.
"George!" Ron's voice turned pleading.
In short order the twins strolled away satisfied, leaving Ron and Dean pale as parchment.
"I'm such a fool, Ron—really! How are you going to fix me paying double for everything from now on—" Dean tackled him again; the two ended in a tangle.
The scene drew a crowd. The twins even took bets on the side: would Ron pry Dean's legs off first, or would Dean choke Ron out?
Only when Professor McGonagall appeared at the high table did the "brawl" get sorted.
Sean ate quietly. While Ron was racing around shouting, he slipped a batch of freshly made biscuits into the entrance cupboard.
Then he sat down to dinner.
He even finished before Ron did; while Ron begged Fred—Sean ate; while Fred "toyed" with Ron—Sean ate; while Ron and Dean wrestled and the twins took bets—Sean, amused, ate.
A few third-year Hufflepuffs heartily approved and, a bit shyly, shared some dishes they'd cooked in the kitchen.
Sean's verdict:
Hufflepuffs really are gifted at food magic—almost as if they're born with it.
Lunch ended quickly.
When Sean arrived at the library to verify his hypothesis, few wizards were there.
Madam Pince, rarely, had dozed off at her desk. Sean cast a softening charm around her, then transfigured a thick plush blanket from books and draped it over her shoulders.
He sat beside her and opened heavy, timeworn volumes one after another.
The sky drizzled steadily, laced with stray flakes—cold enough to make anyone shiver.
Winter air shattered under the stove's crackle; gentle magic candles lit line upon line of wobbly script.
He'd sat by this hearth for nearly half a year now; the spot had a pile of spent quills and a thick ledger of Pince's catalog notes.
As the fire licked higher, Sean wrote down a conjecture that could shake the entire field of alchemy.
~~~
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