"Not even an apology—"
Peeves grabbed the girl's face and tugged hard, leaving the little witch with tear-filled eyes as she ran off.
Sean quietly flicked his wand; at least the girl's hat floated back to her.
"Th-thank you…"
The little witch sobbed like a fountain.
"I'm sorry."
Sean said.
Then he stared at Peeves' retreating direction for a while, starting to seriously doubt whether asking Peeves for help had been the right choice.
Morning.
Sunlight spilled down over the castle turrets as Hogwarts woke swiftly.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was noisy again; students chattered as they streamed inside.
Ever since the Cornish pixie disaster, Lockhart had never again brought live creatures into class.
Now he simply read long passages aloud from his own books and occasionally acted out some "dramatic" scenes.
He'd invited Sean to participate once, and been refused.
So now he generally dragged Harry up to help reenact them.
So far, Harry had been forced to play: a simple Transylvanian villager suffering from the Bubble-Head Jinx cured by Lockhart; and a vampire who, after Lockhart's intervention, refused to drink anything but carrot juice.
In this lesson, Harry was hauled up front yet again—this time, to play a werewolf.
While Harry was on the platform, Ron's face was turning as red as a carrot from holding back laughter. Hermione had to sigh and remind him:
"Ron, Harry's already miserable enough."
"All right, all right—just look, Harry's about to do the wolf howl."
Ron said, still choking down his giggles.
Hermione's face tightened, but the corners of her mouth twitched anyway.
Up on the dais, Harry was practically grinding his teeth.
He hadn't wanted to cooperate, but Justin had quietly told him there was a very important reason to keep Lockhart in a good mood.
"Excellent howl, Harry! Perfect! And then, believe it or not, I lunged forward—just like this—and bang, I slammed him to the ground.
Then like this, one hand pinning him, the other with my wand at his throat—and then I gathered what strength I had left and cast a very complex Human-Form Restoration Charm.
He let out a terrible moan—Harry, keep howling—higher—excellent!"
Hermione finally couldn't keep a straight face and burst out laughing.
Ron was cackling beside her.
Neville was still reading Standard Book of Spells; Sean's notes filled the margins.
Harry's torment finally came to an end.
The bell rang, and Lockhart straightened up.
"Homework: a poem on how I defeated the Wagga Wagga werewolf! The best one will win a personally signed copy of Magical Me!"
That was when Sean knew his chance had come.
He slipped forward quietly—only to notice an unexpected figure already there.
"Professor Lockhart,"
Justin said smoothly,
"I'd like permission to borrow this book from the library—your knowledge is so rich, there's so much in your books."
"My dear Mr. Finch-Fletchley, my fan—of course, of course!"
Lockhart beamed, taking the slip from Justin,
"You and Mr. Green and Miss Granger—all top marks, such excellent children—I'll give you something extra as well, here—"
He scrawled a big looping signature on the pass, then signed Justin's copy of Voyages with Vampires as well.
When Justin snapped the book shut, Sean saw that on the inside there had been a thin sheet of parchment under it—now just shedding its Disillusionment Charm and becoming visible.
Sean glanced once at Justin, and the group slipped out of the classroom in perfect tacit understanding.
"I can't believe it,"
Harry said,
"you did all that just for this pass—is that for the Restricted Section?"
Justin nodded mildly, then handed the signed slip to Sean.
"He didn't even look at it…"
Harry was still stunned.
"That's because he's a brainless idiot."
Ron said, and he now understood exactly why Sean had chased that perfect score.
Soon they split up: Harry had training, Neville was currently obsessed with charms… and Hermione, of course, tagged along.
Nobody was especially shocked by the Restricted Section pass.
If the Hogwarts Restricted Section ever needed a student assistant, Sean would be the first to apply—
actually, no, he wouldn't need to apply. He was already practically doing the job; he was in there nearly every day.
It was common to see him and Madam Pince opening the library doors together in the morning.
"I happened to see the approval sheet… I'm glad I could help."
Justin said, hugging Voyages with Vampires.
"You helped a lot."
Sean answered.
Justin blinked, slightly taken aback.
Hermione stared at the pass, torn between wanting to get her hands on it and acknowledging that right now, Sean's plans were more important than her reading list.
Then Justin flipped open Voyages with Vampires and revealed a sheet of tracing parchment—underneath it lay several layers of already-prepared approval slips.
"Just peel one off and stick it on,"
Justin explained, passing a blank slip to Hermione,
"With this, we can explore the secrets of the Hogwarts library whenever we need."
Hermione gaped at the parchment, stunned into silence.
…
Golden sunlight slid across the windows again. Sunny weather after a rainy night always felt oddly precious.
The Quidditch players, who had been training in wind, rain, and mud, could finally stay a little cleaner.
Harry himself was more than ready not to hear the enchanted mirror in the common room shout,
"Filthy as an old dishcloth!"
every time he came back from practice.
At that moment, Sean was crossing the Quidditch pitch on his way to Hagrid's hut—he had to pass this way.
He wasn't rushing to the library yet, because his next transformation breakthrough was right in front of him.
With the panel's help, his growth was layered and compounding, and sometimes downright explosive.
Once he'd grasped certain techniques, the Journeyman level of material transfiguration had come twice as fast as he'd planned.
A warm wind rustled at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. White-E had already flown off with a biscuit in her beak, chasing Fang.
Tila wasn't as lively as White-E; most of the time, the little bowtruckle just peeked out of Sean's pocket.
Sean silently calculated his progress, thinking about what the Sorting Hat had said about "timing," when he caught sight of a cluster of first-year girls.
They were standing by the Black Lake in a loose circle—as if surrounding someone. Sean heard a sing-song voice:
"The earth is alive; it rises and falls every day. That's it sneezing."
A burst of laughter followed, and Sean watched the crowd drift away, leaving only Luna sitting alone on the lakeshore.
The sky and the lake were the same color now: a pale blue washed with purple after the storm.
Luna wasn't wearing shoes—probably no socks either—just dangling her legs over the bank.
The ground was still damp from the rain, and some patches remained muddy.
Luna heard the faint cracking of grass stalks as someone stepped on them, bending them aside.