It was a bright, sunny Thursday.
Professor McGonagall was nowhere to be found. She hadn't shown up at Hogwarts all day.
She even skipped her Transfiguration class, swapping schedules with Professor Snape, which sent a wave of groans through the young wizards.
Snape wasn't in a great mood either. After some Slytherins got into serious trouble, he took out his frustration on Harry for botching an ingredient—slapping Gryffindor with a ten-point deduction.
By the time Harry and Ron reached Hagrid's hut—hope's little cabin, as some called it—they were still grumbling.
"I swear he's just taking advantage of McGonagall being gone," Ron fumed. "Merlin's beard, who do we even complain to? Percy? He'd probably say, 'Why's Snape only punishing you? Look at yourselves and stop causing trouble!'"
As they vented, they spotted Sean waiting outside the hut—an unusual sight.
Mr. Owl's riddles were a nightmare for most of them, but for Sean, solving them was as easy as eating a Chocolate Frog.
"No! You! Shall! Not! Enter! Little wizard! Fickle-hearted little wizard!" Mr. Owl squawked.
Harry and Ron glanced at each other, their complaints fading as they stifled laughter. They didn't notice Hermione, who'd come with them, frowning off to the side.
At first, they didn't get why Mr. Owl was so upset. After a few sharp scoldings, they quietly stepped back to wait.
"Little wizards! Foolish little wizards! Thick as trolls! Dumber than a Gryffindor! Unless you tell me a stupid Gryffindor story right now, you're staying out here!" Mr. Owl demanded.
Justin, arriving with a handful of biscuits, saved the day. He glanced at the group lined up like naughty first-years and flashed a confident grin.
"Let me handle this. If Godric Gryffindor were alive today, he'd probably be that giant squid in the Black Lake."
He said it with such theatrical flair.
Mr. Owl flapped his wings and finally let them in.
Inside the hut, Sean brushed up on his Ancient Runes knowledge, then packed up to head to the dungeons for potion brewing.
But the Weasley twins cornered him in the corridor.
"What biscuits did you pick? Bet you nailed it, whatever it was!" Fred said cheerfully.
"You're the great Green!" George added, practically bouncing with excitement.
"Oh, we owe you big time," Fred went on, winking dramatically. "If Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes ever takes off, we'll cut you in for a share. A tiny one!"
"Tiny, sure—say, two percent? How's that sound?" George chimed in.
Sean sidestepped them, knowing that engaging the twins meant getting sucked into an endless conversation.
"I bet you're off to carve runes with some professor. We're doomed, Fred!" George exclaimed, clutching his chest.
"I just remembered, George—Merlin's beard, we never got the hang of Advanced Transfiguration, so—" Fred darted in front of Sean, blocking his path.
"You've gotta trade—"
George playfully thumped Sean's shoulder. "—some know-how with us!"
Sean sometimes couldn't wrap his head around how the twins were so brilliant at alchemy but hadn't mastered Advanced Transfiguration.
With a flick of his wand, he opened a jar of beetles. One of them morphed into an owl before their eyes.
"Merlin's beard!" Fred's eyes went wide, exchanging a look with George that screamed, Did we just hit the jackpot?
"Great Green!" George winked at Fred, and the two mock-bowed to Sean.
The twins were a riot. On the way to the dungeons, with their bizarre chatter, they managed to coax some half-finished owl-shaped biscuits from Sean.
Then they gave him a weird look.
"If you need Advanced Transfiguration tips for Ancient Runes—" Fred started.
"Why not ask us?" George finished.
"We got an 'O' in Ancient Runes!"
"It's, like, our natural gift!"
They tossed Sean a book and vanished into a secret passage behind a portrait.
One Hundred Ways to Prank Ron.
Sean blinked. "What…?"
"Wrong one!" The twins popped back, swapping the book with a flourish.
Advanced Techniques in Ancient Runes Carving.
Sean flipped open the first page, and the more he read, the brighter his eyes got.
The twins were alchemy geniuses, and their knack for Ancient Runes was no joke. This was exactly what he'd been missing.
By the time he reached the dungeons, his steps felt lighter.
Snape, watching him, felt an inexplicable irritation.
Time passed with owls flitting back and forth. When Sean stepped out of the dungeons, Sir Cadogan was waiting by the door.
Unlike his usual bluster, the knight silently watched Sean leave, then angrily mounted his pony.
That afternoon, a storm rolled in.
Rain poured from the sky outside Hogwarts, like a cascade of heavy pebbles. It was as if someone shook a tablecloth from a high window, all the friction blending into a roaring clamor as it fell.
Hiss of rain darkened the paths around the castle. Lightning flashed, and the sky trembled.
Sir Cadogan charged into the dungeon through the storm, shouting, "Don't you get it, you fool? Getting used to despair is ten thousand times worse than despair itself!"
Just like that night years ago, he stormed into the dungeon again.
"Oh, my knight. Always ready to throw himself into the fray for others," Lady Violet said, at a loss for words.
"Well, Violet, I don't think that's the right move," the Fat Lady huffed, stomping her foot.
No one knew what happened in the dungeon, but when Sir Cadogan emerged, battered and bruised, he stood at the door with a look that said, Worth it.
Snape's black robes billowed like a storm cloud as he swept through the corridor.
At his destination—the grand, circular Headmaster's office—silver instruments gleamed on shelves, and a blackened kettle bubbled softly.
A wizard with a long, white beard—Albus Dumbledore—sat behind his wide oak desk, half-moon glasses slipping down his nose. His bright blue eyes peered over the rims, gazing at the rain outside.
"Ah, Headmistress Dilys Derwent," he said softly. "This world is both tragic and great because it offers us no truth—only love. When absurdity reigns, love saves us."
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