The Sorting Ceremony finished, and Harry and Ron still hadn't come back.
Sean was a little worried. Surely they hadn't run into the Whomping Willow…
Rumor had it that tree was not exactly known for its good temper.
Aside from that, what held Sean's attention most was Ginny. She was carrying a notebook from fifty years ago—the starting point of the Chamber of Secrets plot.
Sean had absolutely zero intention of making any direct contact with Riddle's diary.
A Horcrux was usually described as something that guaranteed Voldemort's immortality, but the diary clearly did more than just that.
It could corrode a witch or wizard's soul—revive itself through them. Now that Sean possessed a soul-sacred artifact, he was even more cautious.
This Horcrux, split off from Voldemort's soul so many years ago, was not simple at all. Sean could always faintly sense a lurking malice from it—and the troublesome part was, the other side might be able to sense him too.
Sean knew that Riddle's diary had a strong capacity to lure and devour: it could "feed on a witch or wizard's most hidden fears and deepest secrets, growing ever hungrier and ever stronger."
He didn't dare be arrogant for even a second.
Even Dumbledore admitted, in this particular branch of Dark magic, "Voldemort has powers I will never have."
So caution, then—deal with the basilisk quickly, destroy the diary with a basilisk fang afterward—that had become Sean's working plan.
That day would come soon. So he wasn't in any rush.
Over at the Gryffindor table, emotions were running high:
"Behold, the great Green, gazing upon his devout followers—"
Fred said, raising his eyebrows in an exaggeratedly pious tone.
"Our lord's radiance shines upon us—"
George chimed in solemnly.
"It's so strange. I've hardly ever seen anything drag Sean's eyes off a book."
Hermione frowned. What could possibly make Sean glance over here three times?
"Harry and Ron!"
Hermione yelped.
After Sean had said "they'll be fine," she had somehow managed to forget them.
…
Toward the tail end of the Sorting Ceremony, Dumbledore and the staff suddenly rose and hurried out of the Great Hall as if they'd just received urgent news.
That alone was enough to set every student buzzing. Some said Hogwarts had been invaded—by a flying car, no less. Others said there had been a theft on the grounds and the target was the rare and precious Whomping Willow. Nobody believed that one. They unanimously agreed that even the densest person alive—Neville—wouldn't be dumb enough to walk up and whack the Whomping Willow with a shovel.
"Hey!"
Hermione snapped, furious, and they all rushed to apologize to Neville in a panic.
The members of the Hope Room huddled together, equally anxious.
"Sean—okay, but are you really sure nothing will happen?"
Hermione stabbed at her food repeatedly, grinding her bread into something halfway to cheese.
"They'll be fine."
Sean replied. The moment Dumbledore left the hall, his worry had dropped to nearly zero.
Right now he was looking at the Sorting Hat, his eyes for once a little… dangerous.
The hat twitched its ripped brim nervously. It had the uncomfortable feeling someone was staring at it.
Who?
It twisted around, searching, until it found a pair of calm green eyes—then it quickly turned away, stiff as a board.
"Old Hat should've remembered—Ravenclaws hold grudges just like Slytherins… Old Hat needs to hide…"
it muttered to itself.
The Sorting Ceremony wrapped up only when a somewhat out-of-breath Dumbledore hurried back in to say the final words.
The students had endless things to say. Chattering and laughing, they filtered back to their dormitories. The new first–years, naturally, followed their prefects, still getting hit with tall tales and scary rumors, squealing in shock every few steps.
Once the hall had mostly emptied, Sean and the others finally saw Professor McGonagall again—her anger barely contained—standing there with a very shaky Harry and Ron behind her.
"You'll eat here. When you're done, straight to your dormitories!"
McGonagall snapped. She raised her wand and pointed at the table; a large platter of sandwiches, two silver goblets, and a jug of iced pumpkin juice appeared.
She really did look furious.
"I thought we were going to get expelled!"
Ron said, grabbing a sandwich.
"So did I."
Harry grabbed one too.
"There you two are! Where have you been? Everyone's talking—some of the things they're saying are ridiculous. Somebody said you took a flying car and got expelled."
Hermione was the first to storm out from a corner of the hall, with Sean and the others behind her.
"Well, we didn't get expelled."
Harry tried to reassure her.
"You mean you did fly here?"
Hermione's voice was rising; she was about two seconds away from exploding.
But she got cut off by a roar of applause. A whole group of Gryffindors had been waiting here and now burst out cheering.
"That was brilliant!"
Lee Jordan crowed.
"Absolutely legendary! What an entrance! Crashing a flying car into the Whomping Willow—people will talk about that for years!"
"Well done,"
said a fifth–year who had never spoken to Harry before. People clapped Harry on the back like he'd just broken a world record. Fred and George elbowed their way to the front, both of them demanding,
"Why didn't you bring us along?!"
Once Sean confirmed they were fine, he slipped away. He was planning to head to the headmaster's office.
Justin walked beside him, watching Harry's anxious expression from afar.
"Harry's definitely gotten himself into trouble again."
he said.
"Mm."
Sean replied.
"The 'Boy Who Lived,' the boy who defeated You-Know-Who, the boy everyone knows…"
Justin sighed.
"My mum says: every gift from fate already has its price written on it in invisible ink."
His voice faded into the night wind. The sky outside was black as ink, like something heavy was pressing down on the hills, making it hard to see the branches swaying.
…
The headmaster's office was empty.
Sean knocked and waited at the door. To his surprise, it swung open on its own.
He stepped inside and crossed to the front of the desk.
On a shelf behind it sat a tattered, battered wizard's hat—the Sorting Hat.
Sean walked around the desk, picked the hat up, and seemed to be weighing something in his mind.
"Fair Ravenclaw, from beside the quiet stream…"
the old hat trembled and started singing.
Unreliable Dumbledore… slipping away at a time like this. Unreliable stone gargoyle, not stopping the boy. And that unreliable door—opening on its own like that?!
It was Hogwarts property, a major artifact—and they'd just left it here to be handled by a student?
"Relax, Mr. Sorting Hat."
Sean's lips curled slightly. It looked very much like Dumbledore wasn't opposed to him doing a little… experimenting.
"For the first time in centuries, it seems Old Hat owes Ravenclaw one. What is it you want? Or what is it you're trying to find, little wizard?"
the Sorting Hat said helplessly.