Professor Flitwick truly seemed very busy, he gave a quick check of everyone's spell progress, left a few notes, awarded them a few points, and then hurriedly left the classroom.
Sean's quick-quill scribbled down every word the professor said:
"The classroom reserved for clever young wizards never chooses the wrong people. Children, you've all done wonderfully!
But I must say, if you can make the feather spin, why not try casting it on that little table?
I don't encourage young wizards to learn difficult spells ahead of time, but for those with talent, I advise them to make use of it and learn some of the interesting spells from Standard Book of Spells, Grade One in advance—
The Summoning Charm and the Water-Making Spell are both extremely practical. I hope these notes will be of some help to you."
While kindly encouraging everyone, Professor Flitwick had even winked at Sean, perhaps unintentionally.
"When you've barely mastered the spells required for first years, you'll find there are still the mysteries of nonverbal spells awaiting you—
One can never have too much knowledge!"
With that, he quickly walked out of the practice room.
"Just like Miss Clearwater—she's finished learning every spell of this school year, so I encouraged her to boldly try nonverbal spells…
Oh, I'd better hurry, or this time who knows what Miss Clearwater might set on fire…
Last time, if I remember correctly, it was Professor Quirrell's turban…"
Sean froze for a second when he heard that.
Ravenclaw's prefect is that brave?
"Alright, I'll tell you a secret," Hermione suddenly spoke up while Sean was still dazed. He and Justin had already sat down beside her, just as he expected.
The three of them were huddled together on a sofa as evening settled in, the magical lanterns casting a heavy yet fantastical glow across the room.
"Do you remember what Headmaster Dumbledore said?"
Hermione's tone was serious.
"The start-of-term feast?"
"Anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death should stay away from the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor?"
Justin and Sean exchanged a look, each seeing the same astonishment reflected in the other's eyes.
"Sean, that wasn't the part you cared about the most?"
Justin sounded surprised.
Sean thought seriously. "I misspoke."
"You two!" Hermione puffed out her cheeks and slapped the table. Justin immediately shrank like a quail, and Sean, for some reason, also lowered his head a little.
"Headmaster Dumbledore was right. Those who don't want to die shouldn't go there…" Hermione's voice dropped to a much lower pitch.
Sean noticed Justin's body tense. "So… you went there, Hermione? What happened? Are you alright?"
"It wasn't that I wanted to break the rules, it was Harry who…"
Their voices overlapped, but Hermione stopped halfway through her sentence.
"…Hermione, I don't care about the rules, and I don't care about Harry. I only care about one thing—are you okay?"
Justin hesitated, the word "death" trembling faintly in his voice.
Sean noticed Hermione's eyes starting to turn red.
"I… I'm fine…" Hermione said blankly. "Actually, I almost died."
Justin shot to his feet, and Sean could hear his breathing quicken.
"Harry Potter? That Harry Potter? What on earth did he do?!
Damn it, I'm going to find him and get some answers!"
Sean gently pulled back the agitated Justin. His reason seemed to disappear when Hermione was dazed, but return when Sean gave a small tug.
"Maybe we should hear Hermione's explanation first. Harry's not going to vanish, right?" Sean persuaded softly.
Lightning suddenly streaked across the sky outside, followed by rolling thunder. The weather in the Scottish Highlands was always unpredictable.
But their little nest was enough to keep the endless rain at bay.
"Gryffindor cowards! All they ever do is drag people down with them!" Justin muttered angrily.
With Hermione's explanation, everything became clear.
In Justin's eyes, Harry, who had been foolishly tricked into a duel, and Ron, who'd foolishly hit Peeves and made them all panic, were not only useless—they were dangerous.
And Hermione, full of collective spirit, who had tried to stop them and even helped open the door with magic, had been completely dragged down by them!
If he'd been there, he'd have taken a smelly old boot and knocked some sense into those two idiots!
Sean instinctively felt something was off, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was.
"It was a three-headed dog, its teeth sharp enough to crush a skull, and its saliva was corrosive," Hermione recalled. The fear and panic she'd felt were gradually fading, and the sleeplessness of the previous night began to catch up with her. "It must be guarding something… a trapdoor…"
Her thoughts drifted as she unknowingly fell asleep. This only made Justin's anger peak. He quietly covered her with a blanket, his face expressionless as he headed for the door.
Sean sighed. He didn't need to guess what Justin intended to do.
"Headmaster Dumbledore definitely knows what's inside Hogwarts," Sean said softly. "Hermione said the three-headed dog was guarding something. I think that's all part of the headmaster's plan. If he allowed it to happen, that means it's not truly dangerous. Remember, the dog never actually attacked Hermione."
Justin stood silently for a moment.
"Sean, you're always so wise. But my mother said, if doing the right thing makes you a fool, then let me be the fool!" In the end, he walked out. "I don't care about the headmaster's plan. I only know that Hermione almost died behind that door. If no one protests for her, does that mean her pain will just be ignored?"
Lightning in the distance lit up Sean's profile.
Well, having a Hufflepuff friend was really nice, Sean thought again.
The headmaster wouldn't care much about Justin's protest, but Hermione would—and that was what mattered.
Sean didn't believe the "plot" could really be changed. Everything was under Dumbledore's control—at least, that was how it went in the first Harry Potter book.
It was a pure fairy tale.
There was nothing to worry about, Sean thought. Compared to all that, his scholarship crisis was a far bigger problem.
The three-headed dog couldn't actually kill anyone. The Philosopher's Stone couldn't be stolen. Voldemort was basically there to hand out experience points.
But if he didn't get that scholarship, he really wouldn't have enough money for quills or textbooks.
Voldemort's defeat schedule mattered far less to Sean than whether he could continue attending school.
"Professor Flitwick practically spelled it out… The Levitation Charm has to be at least at skilled level, and it'd be best to start on nonverbal spells; And I need to learn the Summoning Charm and the Water-Making Spell too…"
Sean glanced at the sleeping Hermione and quietly turned off the magical lantern.
His priorities were clear now: grind proficiency, push his spellwork to a higher level, then ask Professor Flitwick to teach him defensive spells beyond the first-year curriculum.
He needed to gather the last scholarship fragment and forge it into a 600-Galleon super reward package.