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Chapter 100: Harry
🕑 Added 2025-11-02 10:27:55 +0000 UTCChapter 100: Harry
Sean found Harry and Ron to be almost too sincere.
"We are," Ron confirmed, his face beet-red, looking as though he was prepared for any punishment, as long as he could still access the notes.
Harry just stared at his shoes, bracing himself.
"Alright," Sean nodded.
Professor Snape was waiting for him. While this encounter was... unexpected, he didn't intend to waste time on it.
"He's completely different from what we thought," Ron breathed, his face alight with relief the moment Sean was out of earshot. "Mr. Green is... well, at least he's not Percy. Or Hermione. And I can still read the notes! Oh, thank Merlin..."
As Sean walked away, Harry suddenly remembered Wood's mission—to find out if Sean had joined the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He couldn't bring himself to ask, not after just apologizing. But for the sake of the Gryffindor team, he had to say something.
"Sean—" he called out impulsively.
Sean turned back. Harry's mind went completely blank. He couldn't do it. He couldn't apologize one second and spy on a potential rival the next. But he had to say something. His eyes darted nervously, landing on Neville and Justin, who were watching from a distance.
"Can you," Harry blurted out, "teach us some charms? Like you taught Neville?"
Though the words were spontaneous, they weren't entirely untrue. He had been agonizing over his homework. Wood expected every spare minute to be dedicated to Quidditch training; Harry had no idea how he was supposed to keep up with his essays.
He was stunned when, after a moment's consideration, Sean nodded again.
On the way back to the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron walked in a dazed silence, clutching the notes Sean had given them as if they were priceless artifacts.
"Harry... I was wrong. So, so wrong," Ron finally said, looking utterly ashamed. "Sean Green is... he's like a male Professor Sprout! Oh, Merlin, why didn't we just talk to him sooner?" He looked fiercely at Harry. "From now on, I don't want to hear anyone say a single bad word about him..."
Harry, looking at his thoroughly-converted friend, nodded in complete agreement.
Sean walked through the corridor, lost in thought. Harry Potter continued to surprise him. Though unexpected, Sean was happy to help. As he'd watched the thin, bespectacled boy with the lightning scar standing nervously before him, he'd felt a sudden, sharp pang of understanding.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. He had never chosen to be a savior, yet he had lost his parents to Voldemort's curse as an infant. He'd grown up in a cupboard under the stairs, a decent birthday present an impossible luxury. His scar – a badge of honor to the wizarding world – was, to Sean, simply the brand of attempted murder.
Harry's destiny had never been his own. Trelawney's prophecy may have sealed his fate, but what truly made Harry a hero were the choices he made, time and time again: confronting Voldemort for the Philosopher's Stone as a first-year; risking his life in the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny; insisting on bringing Cedric's body back from the graveyard...
The measure of a person wasn't in their glory, but in their right to be treated with simple fairness. Harry Potter wasn't just a martyr's son; he was a boy who deserved a bit of kindness.
Knowing this, Sean couldn't simply stand by and treat Harry's future sacrifices as a foregone conclusion. If he could offer some small help along the way, he would. It was a trivial thing, perhaps, in the grand scheme of Harry's long and arduous journey, but Sean didn't mind.
The Dungeon.
Professor Snape was already waiting, a shadow in the corner, his face obscured. Sean knew he was there. If Sean made a single mistake, the professor would emerge with a cutting remark. A serious mistake, and the criticism would be, as it had been last time, torrential.
Prepare ingredients, light cauldron, control heat... The steps for the Deflating Draught were now familiar, his movements fluid and precise. After this batch, he would move on to the Swelling Solution. Of the three potions he'd learned, it was the only one not yet at Novice level. Unlocking it would grant him his next Potions title. He couldn't help but feel a flicker of anticipation.
The Apprentice-level title had slightly increased his perception and talent. The Novice-level title would likely significantly increase his perception. That perception – the ability to observe and measure the potion's state – was key to refining his technique.
White steam rose once more in the dungeon. Snape watched from the shadows, his expression complex. He could see the potion's quality had changed again, but the boy's method... it was completely unfamiliar. He felt a spike of disdain, but wouldn't interfere. Not yet. He wouldn't tolerate a student wildly experimenting in his dungeon. Did the boy think this was idiotic Quidditch, a brutish sport whose tactics hadn't evolved in decades? Just don't blow up my dungeon, Snape thought darkly.
[You have successfully brewed a Deflating Draught to the Novice standard. Proficiency +3]
The brew was routine. Even without Borage's ritual, his base skill now produced a solid Novice-level potion, bordering on Adept. The progress was slow, but steady.
He extinguished the flame, bottled the potion, and placed it in his designated cubby in the glass-fronted cabinet – "Your refuse," Snape had called it – then took out his notebook.
"Your stirring arc was too wide," Snape's voice cut through the silence. "The second ingredient should be added after the flame is increased... Heh. Such talent, and you dare to tamper with established rituals?!"
Sean ignored the latter half of the comment, dutifully writing down the first part. His green eyes lit up. That was the final piece he needed to reach Adept. An 'Adept' potion was the baseline for a saleable product. Another stable source of income.
He placed his notebook on the workbench and went to retrieve the ingredients for the Swelling Solution. Dried nettles, puffer-fish eyes, bat spleens… second row, left…
Time slipped away in the cold dungeon. When Sean had finished tidying his station, he silently walked towards the shadows where he knew the professor was standing.
(End of Chapter)
