Remus Lupin stared at the parchment. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs glowed softly on the page.
A strange, almost mischievous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, then melted into something deeper (something that hurt in a good way).
Today had been a lot. Some days he felt like the kid showing up in his life was one of those wild, impossible surprises the universe saves for people who've stopped expecting them.
Green's Books… honestly, running the shop for the rest of his life didn't sound half bad.
"So," he said, voice warm, "what exactly does this fascinating map do?"
Now it was Sean's turn to look a little weirded out. He got it (totally got it), but hearing Moony himself ask that question was just… surreal.
"It shows every secret passage in the castle," Sean explained. "And everybody inside Hogwarts (names, locations, the works)."
Lupin listened, nodding and grinning like a kid who'd just been handed the keys to Honeydukes.
Eventually Sean tucked the Marauder's Map away and faded from sight.
Lupin glanced out the window. Through the swirling snow, a figure was getting clearer.
"Mr. Lupin."
Justin.
"Mr. Finch-Fletchley," Lupin replied, surprised.
The blond kid was covered in snow, cheeks red from the cold.
"Sean's the smartest of us," Justin said quietly. "He trusts you. He trusts people way too easily."
He paused, meeting Lupin's eyes.
"I just want you to remember: trust is a choice. It's courage. And it's not something you get back once it's gone."
Then he turned and walked off into the storm.
Justin didn't know much about werewolves (everything he'd learned had been crammed into the last few hours), but he knew how easy it was for someone like Lupin to slide into the dark.
Maybe only Sean could look at a werewolf and see the moon itself.
…
The Three Broomsticks was packed.
Sean sat in the corner nursing a butterbeer, two frothy mugs on the greasy table. (One of the best things about the place? They served butterbeer to students. Blame centuries of terrible British water.)
He'd told Justin he was grabbing candy, but Justin had definitely not headed toward Honeydukes.
Sean was trying to look forgettable (easy when Professor Flitwick was passed out cold in the shadowy booth behind him).
He finished his drink, feeling the warmth spread, and started thinking about Lupin again.
Peter Pettigrew was still curled up as Ron's rat. Sirius was still rotting in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit.
The plan was coming together. Crystal clear.
But first… maybe he could get Lupin to teach him the Patronus Charm.
The bell above the door jingled. Justin stumbled in, nose red, mouth open to say something (then he saw Sean shake his head).
Justin scanned the room. His eyes went wide.
Was that… Professor Flitwick?
They'd been sitting ten feet from their Charms professor the whole time.
They bolted. On the way out, Sean silently transfigured a blanket and draped it over the tiny professor.
After they left, a very not-drunk Flitwick cracked one eye open and smiled.
Green's Books… figuring out who really started that shop might be trickier than people thought.
…
Hogwarts was asleep.
Except for one window glowing softly in the night.
Professor McGonagall stepped in, snow clinging to her robes like fluffy chestnuts, melting only when she reached the firelight.
Ever since the Chamber business started, she'd known one particular little wizard wasn't nearly as rule-following as he pretended. The second he decided something needed doing, every rule he'd ever followed turned into a polite suggestion.
It was infuriating.
And oddly familiar.
Maybe Marcus was right. The kid really was like her when she was young.
On her desk sat an Animagus registration form.
She slid it into a drawer, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and let out a long, tired sigh.
This had been dragging on since the summer…
Late November.
Outside, the grounds were buried under thick snow. The greenhouse windows were so fogged up Sean couldn't see a thing during Herbology.
Ravenclaw's schedule that day was light: double Herbology and one Transfiguration.
Gryffindor, meanwhile, had a nightmare: double Potions back-to-back, then Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Harry and Ron looked like walking corpses by the end of the day. After Potions they were pale, shaky (pretty much exactly how Sean remembered Lupin looking the first time he saw him).
"Is this even worth it anymore, Harry?" Ron mumbled as they dragged themselves down the fourth-floor corridor.
"That's the problem," Harry groaned. "If we keep going like this, we'll be dead before Lockhart ever gets out of the hospital wing."
Harry had lost thirty points. In one day. Just for existing in Snape's classroom. He was pretty sure that broke some kind of record.
All the points they'd earned facing Tom Riddle in the Chamber? Practically gone.
They finally collapsed in the middle of the corridor, right in front of the big black-cat statue.
"Save us, Mr. Black Cat," Harry begged, hands clasped like he was praying to a saint. "Snape's gone full maniac with the deductions…"
"Yeah," Ron whimpered. "Stirring rod in the cauldron? Five points. Glass beaker on the desk without pre-heating? Another five…"
Hannah Abbott bounced over to a cluster of younger kids. "See? This is how Harry Potter gets the castle's guardian cat to visit him in his dreams!"
Harry and Ron's dramatic worship session had drawn a crowd. Even Ginny joined in after a minute, staring at Harry like he was onto something sacred.
Sean walked past carrying a stack of potions ingredients and saw a ring of little wizards bowing to a statue like it was some weird cult ritual.
He sped up. The joy of finally hitting "Skilled" in Soul Transfiguration? Kind of ruined.
The Castle Guardian Cat Club was now officially the biggest student organization in Hogwarts. Dumbledore signed every single expansion request the second he saw the club name (which only fueled the frenzy).
If that didn't prove the great castle cat's importance, what would?
Sean just shook his head at Dumbledore's love of chaos, ducked around a corner, and pulled out the Map.
The castle layout vanished, replaced by misty silhouettes. One name ([Harry]) was flashing a bright red exclamation mark.
Everything was falling into place.
Today was the day he'd come face-to-face with Voldemort's fragile little soul.