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Chapter 105: The Hearth
🕑 Added 2025-11-05 10:52:08 +0000 UTCChapter 105: The Hearth
The best thing about having a constantly burning fireplace was the ability to dry off immediately. As the three students returned from the storm, damp, cold air swirled into the hidden room, only to be beaten back by the intense, comforting heat. The air closest to the hearth filled with the cozy scent of drying wool and a faint tang of burning pine. Three small figures huddled in the warm glow, sipping hot tea.
A sudden click made Hermione jump.
"Justin! Put that camera away!" she snapped, annoyance flashing in her eyes as she shoved a towel at Sean, who was dripping rainwater onto the floor. "Sean—you always do this! Just take it!" She huffed, seemingly lost for words, then rounded on Justin, who was tracking mud onto the rug. "And you! You're filthy!" With a flick of her wand, the footprints vanished. She tossed another towel at his head.
Neville, who had been quietly watching Sean practice Transfiguration gestures, flinched at her outburst and said nothing. A moment later, two towels landed in his lap—he was, by far, the wettest.
Gathered around the fire, the warmth and light danced on their faces. Justin passed a small, paper-wrapped packet of seeds to Hermione. Neville was smiling down at a new pot in his lap, where a plump, newly sprouted Bouncing Bulb bobbed cheerfully. Their diligent work in the greenhouses had earned them high praise and numerous seeds from Professor Sprout. The hidden room was beginning to look more like a cozy, secret garden every day.
But Sean's gains extended beyond mere seeds. Snape's sarcastic, backhanded instructions in the dungeon—which inadvertently revealed key information about advanced ingredients—had allowed Sean to approach his Herbology work with a new purpose. When Professor Sprout taught them about Galangal root, Sean, knowing it needed to be powdered, paid extra-close attention to the grinding and drying techniques. When they covered Abyssinian Shrivelfigs, he focused intently on how and when to peel them, recalling Snape's complaints about improperly shelled ingredients.
The connection between Herbology and Potions was proving to be as fundamental as the link between Ancient Runes and Alchemy.
Over the past few weeks, Sean had devoted enormous effort to memorizing An Easy Introduction to Ancient Runes and Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms. The task was as demanding as deciphering McGonagall's advanced Transfiguration texts. He knew this because he had, in fact, been doing both simultaneously.
But what he most looked forward to was tonight's brewing session. He was only ten proficiency points away from unlocking a new Potions title.
After drying his thick, waterproof cloak, Sean hung it in the small wardrobe they kept in the room. Near the fireplace or a bubbling cauldron, the enchanted cloak—a thoughtful gift from Professor Sprout, layered with warming and water-repelling charms—was simply too hot.
The storm showed no sign of stopping. By evening, the weather had turned bitterly cold. The mountains surrounding the school were grey and capped with ice, the lake a hard, unforgiving sheet of steel.
The Great Hall became a refuge. Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, whose common rooms were a long, cold climb away, flocked to its warmth. Unlike, as one Gryffindor muttered, "certain badgers who live next to the kitchens."
At one of the long tables, Ron Weasley directed his wizard's chess knight to brutally decapitate his opponent's king. "Unfair! Rematch!" Seamus Finnigan yelled, his face red. "My pieces won't listen to me!" His king had, in fact, declared "Royalty shall not be insulted!" before bravely marching straight into the knight's attack range.
"You've got a lot to learn," Ron said loftily, resetting the pieces. Wizard's chess pieces were sentient; mastering the game required understanding their individual personalities. Ron excelled at this.
"Ron," Dean Thomas mused, "it's weird. Usually, you're stressing over homework right now. How are you..."
"Oh, this?" Ron looked as though he'd been waiting for this question. He rummaged in his bag and pulled out several carefully protected notebooks.
"Green's Notes! Merlin's beard! Where did you get..." A chorus of whispers erupted from nearby students.
"From Sean, of course—oh, wait, that's a secret…" Ron clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Sean Green? Even the Slytherins say not to mess with him..." Dean's eager expression faded slightly.
"No!" Ron sat up straight, his expression fiercely loyal. "You can't describe Sean in one sentence. If you've got the guts, go talk to him yourself." He flushed, his eyes hardening. "But I won't stand for any rumors about him!"
Sean, passing by on his way to the dungeon, quickened his pace. Why, he wondered, do I feel like the leader of a burgeoning cult?
Dungeon Corridor.
A crowd of older students was filing out, filling the narrow passage. Sean pressed himself against the wall, catching snippets of their hushed complaints—mostly about Snape, met with fearful, silent nods.
At the dungeon entrance, Sean was surprised to see a shadowy figure standing guard—Snape himself, holding a register, his cold eyes fixed on the corridor. The professor's gaze swept over Sean, lingering for a moment on his shivering frame and the worn-out scarf wrapped around his neck.
Inside the Dungeon.
The steam from the cauldron instantly chased away some of the chill. Sean began preparing the Swelling Solution ingredients with a practiced efficiency that now mirrored Professor Sprout's. Even Snape would have to admit his technique was approaching 'Outstanding'—at least for these specific materials.
In the shadows, Snape watched silently. In his hand, the parchment detailing Borage's "Guidance Method" was folded together with the other two notes. As he watched the boy work, he recalled the muttered insults from the students in the corridor. He'd never cared before, but now... they irritated him.
As Sean began to stir the cauldron, Snape's voice cut through the silence. "Heh. I assume you're using that obsolete stirring method from the Book of Potions. Even a troll would know better. You should know, Sean Green, that not everything in print is correct! If your eyes aren't merely for decoration, you would have seen the modifications in your own notes!"
(End of Chapter)
