The corridors at night were empty, with only faint footsteps echoing.
Every so often there was a soft rustling, like some crawling creature dragging itself along.
The headmaster's office.
It sat in a little separate tower, and like the four House common rooms, you had to give the correct password to get in.
Guarding the entrance was a huge stone gargoyle. Right now the gargoyle had leapt aside, revealing the spiral staircase behind it.
Sean stepped into the headmaster's office. The portraits were all dozing.
On the long, spindly-legged tables sat all sorts of strange silver instruments, slowly turning and puffing out thin curls of smoke.
On a shelf behind the desk rested a battered, wrinkled old wizard hat—the Sorting Hat.
Now that hat was in Sean's hands.
"Mr. Sorting Hat?"
Sean placed it on his head; the oversized hat dropped down and covered his eyes.
"Proud and cunning Ravenclaw, ah—so they always say. But the old Hat will tell you this: wise Ravenclaw—bearing courage tempered by long reflection—"
The hat's mouth-like folds opened and closed.
"No doubt about it, the old Hat knows—the time has come."
The hat always spoke in riddles. With four Founders' worth of wisdom stuffed into it, its words were never easy to interpret.
In the moonlight, Sean seemed to sense something. He gently removed the hat and held it in his hands.
On the gilded perch nearby, Fawkes lifted his eyes and slowly spread his wings.
And at the doorway, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were already staring, wide-eyed.
"How can it be Sean—oh, no, who else but Sean could walk into the headmaster's office like that…"
Ron whispered.
"But what's he doing with the Sorting Hat?"
Hermione pressed herself against the wall and muttered.
"Look, there's something inside the Hat—"
Harry forced down the strange feeling in his chest and stared intently at the small figure framed in silver moonlight.
His profile looked sharper than usual. He had gripped something long and hard—and this time, nothing stopped it.
Sean drew Gryffindor's Sword.
"The time has come, the time has come, to answer and appear for the heir you've chosen to help—"
The Sorting Hat's voice grew thin and finally faded away.
It was a shining silver sword, hidden in the Hat all this time. The hilt was set with egg-sized rubies that blazed with crimson light.
Sean held Gryffindor's Sword, surprised by how easily it had come.
He felt a flicker of doubt—but it was almost time.
He had to head for the Chamber.
With a tap of his wand, a few books shot out of his bag, whirled themselves into shape, and became a makeshift scabbard. Sean fastened Gryffindor's Sword at his waist.
For a moment he looked like one of the ancient wizards from those old histories.
Before the International Statute of Secrecy, wizards could still mingle freely with Muggles, but using a wand against a Muggle's sword was considered deeply dishonorable.
So in battle they often carried swords as well—using them much as they'd use their wands.
Many gifted wizards were also outstanding duelists; Godric Gryffindor had been one of them.
Sean doubted he had any talent for swordsmanship himself—he wasn't even sure swordplay could be tracked on his status panel.
At the doorway, all three of them jumped, snapping out of their daze, and scrambled away from the crack in the door.
"What was that?"
Ron stammered, being the first to sprint onto the moving staircase.
"Gryffindor's Sword. If you'd read Hogwarts: A History properly, you'd know.
It was forged by the greatest of goblin smiths, the goblin king Ragnuk the First. According to the records, it behaves a great deal like a wand—it can sense and respond, appearing in time to help the heir it recognizes."
Hermione said quickly, the second to run up onto the staircase.
"But Sean's in Ravenclaw," Harry said, dazed.
If there was a sword hidden in the Sorting Hat, then when they had that hat on their heads—
Had they nearly been beheaded?
"When it comes to courage—"
Hermione broke off, because Ron blurted:
"There's a sword in the Hat! Oh, I mean—it could've fallen out on us, right?"
He was shivering now. So the Sorting Ceremony had been a trial? Did the ones who failed get their heads chopped off?
His thoughts were, uncomfortably, lining up with Harry's.
"I've never heard of anything like that."
Hermione snapped.
They fell silent as a small wizard stepped off the staircase again.
Moonlight lit his path. As he walked past, he suddenly turned his head.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione nearly died on the spot.
Thankfully, his eyes moved on.
"That was close…"
Ron sagged with relief, his legs going weak.
Ron, Harry, Hermione—
Sean counted the heads and didn't think much of it.
Even if they'd seen him, it wouldn't have mattered—so long as it wasn't Voldemort.
The only thing that nagged at him was that he hadn't seen the headmaster in some time.
Ever since their last talk, Dumbledore's appearances in the Great Hall had become rarer and shorter.
The second-floor girls' bathroom.
Curfew was nearly upon them again.
"Open," Sean hissed in Parseltongue.
At once, the tap flared brilliant white and began to spin.
Then the sink itself moved. It slowly sank out of sight, revealing a massive pipe wide enough for a person to slide down.
Sean settled the spell-refracting goggles on his nose. White-E and Tila wore their own custom-made versions.
"It's time."
In the corridor.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were pacing in tight circles. The person they'd been following had vanished in the blink of an eye.
"You know, Harry—no one draws a sword just to cut weeds.
If something has got Sean to the point where he needs outside help—"
Weasleys always had a certain uncanny instinct, and Ron's face had gone pale.
"I'm going to find Justin, Harry. Maybe he'll know something."
Hermione turned to go.
"I just remembered—"
Harry burst out.
"Remember that house-elf, Dobby? It said Hogwarts would be dangerous.
And my Parseltongue—Sean knows. He even asked me a few questions."
"What?"
Hermione and Ron said together.
They could feel it: somehow, they'd been pulled into something big again. Every time, it was Sean quietly moving pieces in the background.
And every time, they wanted him to know—they intended to do everything they could too.
"What exactly did you hear? No—not that part. The word open. It said open! Sean wants to open something!"
Harry said urgently.