The Weasley twins got some awesome news from Sean, and they spent the whole day before the feast humming little tunes and popping halfway out from behind portraits just to scare the crap out of night-wandering students.
The end-of-year feast instantly became the hottest topic among the little witches and wizards. Sure, there'd been a ton of wild rumors flying around all year—like the Alchemy Conference, the lucky black cat, or Snape supposedly trying to off Quirrell—but now that the school year was wrapping up, everyone was way more obsessed with the final results.
Personal glory? Yeah, that wasn't even worth talking about. Nobody was beating Mr. Sean Green unless you somehow scored 121 on a 120-point exam.
But house pride? The House Cup? That was what everybody was buzzing about.
The day before the feast, the castle started getting lively again. The professors were gearing up to decorate the Great Hall.
Professor Flitwick was personally directing everything, with his star pupil Sean Green right behind him.
Everybody knew that, obviously.
The whole hall had been decked out in Ravenclaw's blue and bronze to celebrate their House Cup win. A massive banner with the Ravenclaw eagle hung on the wall behind the staff table.
Right now, Flitwick was dragging Sean around, adding little Ravenclaw touches everywhere.
"My dear Mr. Green, I can hardly believe it! Ravenclaw hasn't won the House Cup in ages!" Professor Flitwick squeaked in his high-pitched voice, actually dabbing at his eyes.
The Ravenclaws standing behind him looked a little embarrassed.
Little eagles aren't exactly famous for caring about group glory, so even though they've got the brains, it's usually the super-competitive Gryffindors or the "whatever-it-takes" Slytherins who snag the cup.
Today the Great Hall was quieter than usual. The Slytherins were doing their best to stay far away—they were absolutely fuming.
As for Gryffindor… the vibe over there was super weird.
Ever since exams ended, Ron hadn't stopped bragging about the "epic adventures" he, Harry, and Hermione had pulled off.
Normally the Gryffindors—led by Seamus—loved hearing Ron's dramatic retellings. At a school where rumors fly faster than a Firebolt, it was always a solid story.
But now?
Outside the hall, Sean had just made his escape.
Flitwick was so over-the-moon happy that he'd even started chatting up McGonagall on his own.
"Yes, Minerva, did you hear? We got five hundred and eleven points! It's fantastic—one of the best scores in Hogwarts history! And it's all thanks to our dear Mr. Green—"
He'd be rambling away, then suddenly stop because he'd notice his old friend forcing a smile.
Sean had bolted long before that.
As he stepped into the corridor, Ravenclaws were waving at him from every direction.
"Sean, I told you—you're Ravenclaw's savior!" Michael said, as dramatic as ever.
"Mr. Green, thank you for everything," Penelope Clearwater chirped, strutting past like she owned the place.
Sean nodded back and casually glanced down the hallway. There was Ron and the others looking like someone had cursed their breakfast. A bunch of gloomy Gryffindors surrounded them.
"Weasley, quit lying already! Forbidden Forest? Trapdoor? You're just lucky you didn't get caught and lose more points—Merlin's beard!" Dean hissed.
"Gryffindor only has two hundred and fifty points! Merlin's beard—we've never scored that low!" Seamus snapped, glaring at the trio.
Think about it: Gryffindor should've had five hundred and fifty!
If they'd won the Quidditch Cup and Harry and company hadn't lost them a whopping one hundred and fifty points…
Ron was still muttering about the trapdoor and stuff nobody believed anymore. The others were done listening.
"It's true—" Ron mumbled under his breath.
He couldn't really argue—they had lost a ton of points, plus they'd bombed at Quidditch.
Harry looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, and even Hermione wasn't looking too hot.
Honestly, she'd heard way too many snide comments already.
Sure, she'd earned more than fifty points herself, but Gryffindors don't care about that.
Getting points docked always stings way more than earning them feels good.
Sean walked over. Seamus and the others huffed and stormed off, which finally took some pressure off the trio.
"Don't sweat it," Sean said. "There might still be a surprise."
"What kind of surprise?" Ron asked, looking like his puppy just died.
Then the feast started.
On their way in, Harry and the others—moving super carefully—bumped into a group of Slytherins.
The Slytherins had been grumpy, but the second they spotted Harry's crew, they started clapping like they'd just won the lottery.
"Potter, thanks for tanking Gryffindor's score! Lowest in years, maybe ever? Haha!"
"In a couple weeks they'll forget all about it," Ron muttered, trying to cheer Harry up even though his own face looked like a storm cloud. "Fred and George have been losing points since first year and everybody still loves them."
"Yeah, but they never lost a hundred and fifty in one go, did they?" Harry said miserably.
"Well… no," Ron admitted.
The Great Hall was loud and chaotic, piled high with every kind of food you could imagine.
Justin was over at the Ravenclaw table sharing food-magic tips with Sean, who was listening like it was the most fascinating thing ever.
Then the trio slipped in quietly and sat down… still at the Ravenclaw table. Normally Gryffindors wouldn't care, but today it annoyed the crap out of everyone.
Lucky for them, Dumbledore showed up a moment later and the noise started dying down.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully.
"Before we dig into all this amazing food, I've got to bore you with an old man's rambling. What a fantastic year! Your brains are definitely fuller than they were last September—
and you've got a whole summer ahead to digest everything before next term starts.
Now, as far as I know, we have to do the House Cup ceremony first. Here are the final scores:
Fourth place, Gryffindor with 250 points;
third place, Hufflepuff with 352;
second place, Slytherin with 452;
and first place—Ravenclaw with 511 points!"
The Ravenclaw table exploded into polite cheers and clapping.
But honestly? The Hufflepuffs made more noise.
Hufflepuffs don't care who wins—as long as it isn juros isn't Slytherin.