"longbotton…"
Sean murmured softly,
"—means 'always at the bottom.' But ordinary, mediocre people sometimes forge greatness."
Light flickered in his eyes, and for a moment Minerva McGonagall couldn't look away.
Then the professor strode into the corridor, bristling:
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle—you had better have a reasonable explanation!"
…
Sean "ran into" Neville at the corner.
He couldn't quite believe what he'd done—half bursting with joy, half staring dazedly at his father's wand, silently crying.
A handkerchief appeared by his hand; Sean, hugging a stack of books, seemed merely to be passing by:
"I think… he's proud of you."
By mid-January, everyone had clearly noticed Neville's change. He still stammered, but he worked harder than anyone at Defense Against the Dark Arts.
On the second day of Malfoy & Co.'s detention, the Quidditch pitch was still sodden with rain.
Under a fir tree, Sean directed drifts of snow to become a small army of snowmen, who fought each other with twig weapons; in his ear the proficiency chime rang:
[You practiced an advanced transfiguration at an Expert standard. Proficiency +1000]
Following Professor McGonagall's notes, Sean's transfiguration kept improving. He could now work with at least five elements:
fire, snow, water, stone, and earth.
Only fire and snow were fluent so far, but his offensive options were already much more varied.
After a while Sean grew tired. He picked up a potion and, at the same time, shaped the hearth flames into a fire lizard.
The fire lizard hugged the potion bottle; in seconds it warmed, and Sean drank while watching the Gryffindor team practice flying—just like the Gryffindors gathered to watch.
But his attention was on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where strange sounds came now and then.
The weather was wet and cold.
The mountains around the school were draped in grey, capped with ice and snow.
A few minutes later Sean roused himself—he saw a giant moving toward him like a small hill.
The giant was wrapped head to foot in a long coat of mole fur, with rabbit-fur gloves and huge beaver-fur boots, slogging step by step through the mud.
Sean tucked away Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them—and to his surprise, Hagrid's eyes lit up as he came right over:
"Oh—Sean Green! M'boy, grand ter see yeh here," Sean heard Hagrid say.
That wrong-footed him—he couldn't remember meeting Hagrid before.
"I'm Rubeus Hagrid—Keeper o' Keys an' Grounds at Hogwarts. I've heard Professor Minerva McGonagall speak of yeh quite a few times, m'boy. Oh—hope I didn' scare yeh."
Hagrid's hands had been stuffed in his pockets; now he took them out and didn't quite know where to put them.
Sean shook his head—no, not scared. He understood now—Professor McGonagall and Hagrid must be on good terms. He remembered on Halloween, when Hagrid got drunk, he'd even dared plant a kiss on the professor's cheek.
"Fancy a rock cake? Shame yeh're not at m'place—fresh ones are better."
Hagrid seemed a bit awkward, but as soon as he produced the rock cakes, his confidence returned.
"Mm." Sean accepted a rock cake and also took out an elegantly wrapped box labeled [Animal Party – Full Series].
The box was large—but in Hagrid's hands it looked pitifully small.
"Oh—OH! This is…"
His eyes went round as saucers.
Sean had still underestimated how wildly the Animal Party series was selling—especially since a certain first-year had not made it a priority and production was tiny. At Weasleys & Green it was already sold out.
Some wizards had even raised a ruckus outside Shop No. 93:
"Without the Kneazle biscuit, the rats in my house are overrunning the place!"
Under the fir tree—
Hagrid recognized a complete set at a glance—that was rare stock. Sadly, by the time he'd heard about it, it was too late; when he'd made it to Diagon Alley—ha!—sold out!
As gamekeeper, he couldn't stay away from Hogwarts for long, so he'd never got the chance to try the feeling of transforming into an animal—and had always wanted to.
He'd never imagined a full set would fall into his hands now.
"This is too precious!"
He tried to hand the box back to Sean—but couldn't bear to.
Looking at his massive frame made clumsy by indecision, anyone would have wanted to laugh.
"Hope you'll like it. I've still got a bit more."
Sean said.
"Oh! Yeh must've queued fer ages!"
Hagrid was moved.
Sean didn't know whether to nod or shake his head. He had queued with the professor—but he hadn't gotten the transformation biscuits that way.
"Want to try? You'll black out while a biscuit is working—I can watch over you," Sean offered. It truly was his idea—though his goal ran deeper.
"'Course! Delighted t'run into yeh here, Mr. Green! In return, yeh must take plenty o' rock cakes—there's no such thing as too many!"
Hagrid was as happy as a child (a child over three meters tall). He tugged Sean toward the Forest's edge.
Sean naturally walked alongside—well, not quite alongside; he barely came up to Hagrid's stomach.
Looking up, Sean couldn't even see Hagrid's chin.
They crunched through the snow to a pumpkin patch. Beside it stood a small wooden hut.
It sat outside the castle, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest—Hagrid's home while serving as gamekeeper.
Hagrid's hut.
There was only one room. When the door swung open, Sean saw hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling, and a copper kettle boiling on the brazier.
A huge wooden table and chairs stood by the fire; in the corner was a large bed with a patchwork quilt. Fang, some cooking staples, and various household odds and ends were stored around.
With that, Sean had completed the first step of his plan.
Next, he only needed to keep good terms with Hagrid—and wait for the Norwegian Ridgeback to arrive.
By the hearth, Sean wanted to summon a fire lizard to warm himself—or have a bit of the fire hop across the floor.
But he checked the impulse, watching Hagrid hum a tune and parcel up rock cakes for him.
Before long Hagrid ate a Kneazle biscuit.
Sean quietly reflected that Hagrid truly did trust easily—after meeting him once, he'd brought him to his hut and handed over an undefended animal form to his care.
Hagrid, for his part, was grateful to have run into Professor McGonagall's generous "lad" today, the one who had given him the transformation biscuits he'd longed for—and who wasn't afraid of him and had come inside.
In short, they both seemed to be misunderstanding each other, a little.
Two minutes passed. Hagrid looked at his hands, then at his feet.
Still no transformation!