Chapter 44: The Wizard's Broomstick
"Merlin's beard, why is it brooms? Because they look peculiar?" Justin asked, his pale grey eyes wide with confusion.
Just then, a fierce gust of wind slammed against the arched window, rattling the glass and sending the magical lantern hanging on the wall swinging wildly. Justin nudged Sean and Hermione, pulling them from their absorption in the book. Hermione frowned, puffing out her cheeks, about to complain, when she saw Justin's jaw drop, his finger pointing frantically out the window.
Against the backdrop of the ancient castle walls, a figure shot past like a streak of lightning, flying straight towards the main building. They zipped past the open window, leaving a whistling rush of wind in their wake, the tip of their broomstick glinting in the sunlight.
"Because they look… wicked cool. Right, I get it now," Justin murmured, his eyes shining with newfound fervor, though his words were nearly lost in the wind.
"Don't even think about it, Justin," Hermione said sharply, dashing his burgeoning dreams. "First-years are strictly forbidden from flying unsupervised. Haven't you read the school rules?"
"Huh?!" Justin froze, looking like a stunned piece of wood.
"Don't tell me," Hermione said, looking less impressed by the fly-by and more concerned about Justin's apparent ignorance, "that you came to Hogwarts without even bothering to learn the rules? Heavens, Justin, if you don't know the rules, how can you possibly ensure you don't break them?"
"I don't know… I didn't think Hogwarts would be that strict…" Justin stammered, looking utterly lost. He instinctively turned to Sean. "Sean, have you read the school rules?"
"Yes." Sean's simple nod seemed to extinguish the last spark of hope in Justin's eyes.
In fact, determined to remain at Hogwarts at all costs, Sean had memorized the school rules backwards and forwards. Hermione was correct: unsupervised flying was forbidden for first-years. However, special permission from Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, was possible. Few first-years ever achieved it, but the possibility existed.
"Honestly…" Hermione sighed, then pressed a brown-covered book with gold lettering into Justin's hands. It was filled with her own precise notes. The light returned to the young badger's eyes.
He clutched the copy of Hogwarts: A History as Hermione muttered, "Idiot."
"Besides," she added, turning back to Quidditch Through the Ages, "wizards didn't choose broomsticks just to look cool." The three heads bent over the book once more.
Wizards learned from long and bitter experience that should their Muggle neighbours discover the full extent of their abilities, they would seek to exploit them. It followed, therefore, that any mode of transport wizards might possess would have to be discreet, easily concealed. The broomstick was ideal for this purpose.
"So they chose brooms for stealth?" Justin hadn't expected that answer, but after a moment, he nodded in understanding. "I suppose if my neighbours were wizards, I'd find it hard not to be incredibly curious about them too."
The afternoon sun slanted through the arched window, dividing the small room into shifting patterns of light and shadow. Dust motes danced in the golden beams like tiny, glittering sprites, then suddenly trembled.
The three students looked up, startled, as a rhythmic thump-thump-thump echoed from the wall just outside the hidden door.
"Oh! That's Ernie!" Justin exclaimed, realization dawning. "If he knocks on the wall next door, it means he'll be waiting for me in the Great Hall." He quickly gathered his things, beckoning Sean. "It's about Professor Snape. I asked Ernie and some others to help keep an eye out. After all," he added, puffing out his chest slightly, "Mother always says there's strength in unity."
Sean nodded thoughtfully. The two boys said goodbye to Hermione and slipped out of the room. Justin paused at the door. "Hermione, don't worry, I won't tell anyone about this place. It's our secret! I promise…"
Hermione, already lost in her book again, seemed utterly unconcerned, though after they had gone, her eyes looked a little red around the rims.
In the Great Hall, a stout, blond boy fidgeted anxiously at the Hufflepuff table, clutching a book but constantly glancing towards the entrance.
Alright, Finnigan said he'd meet me here, so he'll come, Ernie Macmillan told himself firmly. Worrying about it won't help. Better to worry about Flying class on Friday.
"Ernie!"
Justin scanned the hall and spotted his fellow Hufflepuff immediately, hurrying over with Sean in tow.
Sean recognized the earnest, slightly pompous face. Ernie Macmillan. A Hufflepuff from a nine-generation pure-blood family, but genuinely kindhearted nonetheless. He had initially suspected Harry of being the Heir of Slytherin, but after Hermione was Petrified, he realized his mistake and publicly apologized to Harry, an apology Harry had accepted. What impressed Sean most, however, was Ernie's response during the Battle of Hogwarts. When McGonagall had ordered the prefects to evacuate the younger students, Ernie had stepped forward and asked, his voice ringing with unexpected courage, "And what if we want to stay and fight?"
Ernie had good news. Professor Snape was currently occupied grading papers and had been shut away in his office for quite some time.
Sean immediately retrieved his brewing kit and ingredients from the hidden room and set off for the dungeons. He couldn't simply brew in the practice room; first-years weren't allowed to take cauldrons out of the Potions classroom. Given the potential for explosions, it was a sensible rule. Dangerous experiments needed a proper lab.
Soon, the familiar white steam curled above a cauldron in the dimly lit dungeon. Sean worked with intense focus, his movements precise and economical. Bubbles began to rise, the only sound in the vast chamber besides the soft whisper of his own breathing.
By the time Professor Snape emerged from his office, Sean was long gone, leaving behind only the lingering scent of potion ingredients and three more points added to his proficiency score.
Libatius Borage hadn't been exaggerating. The modified ritual, while effective, was incredibly draining. The profound exhaustion from his previous brewing session still lingered, a deep, bone-weariness that Borage estimated would take at least five days to fully dissipate.
While waiting to recover, Sean didn't remain idle. If one were to describe his activities accurately, it would be: playing hide-and-seek with Professor Snape.