The next day.
Morning.
Droplets still clung to the spires of the castle. From the owlery came the sound of flapping wings as the mail flock swept across the courtyard, feathers glittering with beads of water.
In the corridor, the people in the portraits yawned and stretched. Some first-years slipped out from behind a tapestry, stomping through puddles so the water splashed loudly.
They walked, laughed, and spread rumors.
"Did you hear? The reason Justin's detention got canceled is because they beat a werewolf in the Forbidden Forest!"
A Hufflepuff in black and yellow—Ernie, from an old pure-blood family—spoke excitedly.
"That's nothing! I heard there was a troll too!"
Oliver shouted.
"And a dragon!"
Hannah, newly joined, jumped into the discussion, full of enthusiasm.
"And…"
Susan couldn't think what could sound scarier—and cooler—than a dragon.
"And a Dark—"
Her mouth got ahead of her brain. Hannah went pale and rushed to cover it.
The Hufflepuffs around them were impressed; everyone agreed Susan was the best rumor-spread in the "Never Go Hungry" club.
"Fine, you win the Rumor-Spreading Award," said Ernie solemnly. "Prize is ten extra points on your finals. Remember to claim them on your test paper."
Passing by, Justin and the others couldn't help the smiles tugging at their mouths.
Their detention had been canceled—a rare event—so even though they hadn't told anyone about the fourth-floor room and the Forest, Hogwarts was, unsurprisingly, buzzing with speculation.
As for why they weren't spreading it themselves, the reason was simple: exams were coming. Even if they were thrilled, everyone agreed they'd wait until after tests to brag properly.
Nobody wanted to be forced to retell the entire "Quirrell's betrayal and re-betrayal" saga while trying to memorize the dates of goblin rebellions.
Sean was on his way to the hospital wing to bring Professor Quirrell some potions—things that would help a sick wizard recover more quickly.
As for Harry, he seemed almost fully better.
In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey looked at the stack of expensive-looking potions Sean set down and blinked in surprise.
"Child, this is far more than necessary… where did you…?"
"I brewed them myself, Madam," said Sean.
"Mm?"
She gave him a very odd look. Using a little wizard as a test subject for a professor—however you spun it, it sounded strange.
"Professor Snape has checked them. He says they're acceptable," Sean added quickly, guessing her worry.
"Let me see, then, child. Any potion that comes into my ward has to be verified safe."
She examined them for a while and finally said, in a delighted tone, "Passed. Oh! For you—this is excellent work, child. Oh—so you're Green?"
She seemed a bit slow on the uptake. Most of her potions came from the dungeons, and lately, extra batches had been sent up, all marked with one brewer's name: Green.
"Thank you—truly," Madam Pomfrey said warmly. She clearly liked him; she didn't even mention how long he was allowed to stay.
So Sean quite naturally arranged the potions on Professor Quirrell's bedside table. The curse on Quirrell was severe—even worse than what Voldemort had done to his body and soul.
That surprised Sean. He made a mental note to ask Hagrid about it later—Hagrid knew a great deal about unicorns and might have another idea.
Quirrell still slept. Sean went back to organizing his current plans: he only needed two more mid-tier alchemical creations for the Expert Alchemy title; his Transfiguration was less than one-fifteenth away from Master…
Before long, another notebook floated from his pocket. This one's pages looked blank; even when the quill wrote across them, no one else could see the words.
Only Sean, slowly, line by line, wrote and sorted things out. He intended to wrest as many possibilities from fate's hands as he could.
At that moment, the hospital wing shook with a great commotion as Hagrid squeezed sideways through the doorway.
Any time Hagrid came through a door, he looked like a moving boulder.
He sat down by Harry's bed, glanced at him—and promptly burst into tears.
"It's—all my—fault—I'm such—a great—stupid oaf!"
He buried his face in his hands, sobbing.
"I told that scoundrel how to get past Fluffy! I told him! He knew everything but that—and I went and told him! You lot went down there and almost got yourselves killed! Over a dragons' egg! I'll never touch liquor again! They ought to throw me out, make me live like a Muggle forever!"
He howled. Normally, Madam Pomfrey would have thrown him out, but she simply cast a Quieting Charm on him and went to tend a student who'd just broken his leg.
"Sean—I thought I saw Sean there too—I heard he went to face Quirrell alone—I must've wanted so badly to apologize that I started seeing things—"
With Hagrid in the wing, everything felt different.
He shook with grief and remorse, tears soaking into his beard.
"Hagrid, whatever the case, Voldemort would have found a way. Please, try to cheer up. We kept the Stone safe—it's gone now; he can never use it again. Have a Chocolate Frog—I've got loads…"
Harry looked helplessly at Sean.
"We guarded the Forest. We drove him off, Hagrid. A lot of the credit is yours," Sean said quietly.
"Really…?" Hagrid wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "That reminds me, I've brought you lot something, too. Dumbledore gave me yesterday off to put it together."
What he pulled out looked like a finely made leather-bound book.
"I owled some of your parents' old classmates and asked for photographs… knew you didn't have any pictures of them… D'you like it?"
Harry couldn't find words, but Hagrid understood.
"And there's something for you too, Sean," Hagrid added, voice wobbling. "Though I might get expelled for this. You'd better come with me…"
As he spoke, tears welled again.
Sean followed him to a locked, nondescript tower room.
Hagrid glanced around, then pulled out a key and opened the door.
"You've got three minutes. Take a look, Sean. I don't know what's written in it, but they say a phoenix feather has very special magic…"
Sean knew immediately what it was.
Inside the tower there lay a book bound in black dragon hide. Beside it sat a small silver ink bottle with a long, faded quill stuck in it.
These were the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance—Hogwarts' only method for choosing its students.
Sean knew that at the very least, they recorded a young wizard's date of birth. As for what more… that, he did not yet know.