Chapter 71: Good News & Howlers

Early the next morning, Sean and Blaise, now back to his usual swagger after dodging his ex-girlfriend, strolled into the Great Hall for breakfast. The enchanted ceiling glowed like a soft dawn, casting a warm light over the bustling tables. Sean piled his plate with sausages and sipped pumpkin juice, the familiar hum of chatter filling the air.

Halfway through breakfast, a flurry of owls swooped in, their wings rustling like a sudden breeze. Sean barely glanced up, used to the daily post, until a larger shadow caught his eye. Talon, his imposing owl, soared above the rest, its feathers glinting with pride. Sean set down his knife and fork, clearing a space for Talon's landing.

With a thud, Talon landed on the table, talons clicking against the wood. Sean had moved his goblet just in time, so nothing spilled. "Here, eat up, Talon," he said, sliding a small bowl of nuts and smoked fish toward the owl. Rok hooted softly, diving into the treats with gusto.

Sean untied the package from Rok's leg, pulling out a letter and a familiar bag. He slit the envelope open and scanned the contents, his expression shifting from curiosity to shock, then settling into a broad grin.

Blaise, munching on toast, noticed. Jason, just joining them, leaned in, curious. "Sean, what's up?" Blaise asked, eyebrows raised. "You look thrilled."

Sean folded the letter carefully, tucking it back into the envelope with a smile. "Got word from home," he said, his voice warm. "My mum's pregnant—over a month along. I'm going to have a little brother or sister."

"That's brilliant!" Blaise exclaimed, clapping Sean on the shoulder. "In a few years, they'll be at Hogwarts, hearing all about their legendary big brother."

Sean and Jason burst out laughing, the sound blending with the Great Hall's lively din. Sean slipped the letter into his pocket, then turned to the bag—a gift from Aldridge Brown during his Beauxbatons days, charmed with an Undetectable Extension Charm. Inside were his enchanted shield and chain-mace, freshly repaired and upgraded by a skilled goblin craftsman. They hadn't been ready when he left for Hogwarts, but now they were here, delivered with his parents' letter. Aldridge had added a note, confirming the items' readiness.

Challenges lay ahead this year—Sean could feel it, with the diary's shadow looming. These tools, paired with his Troll Strength and Agile casting , made him ready.

As he stowed the bag, a furious shout erupted from the Gryffindor table. Sean looked up, spotting Ron Weasley staring at a smoking Howler, his face pale with dread. Mrs. Weasley's voice boomed, scolding Ron for the flying car stunt. The sound silenced the hall—not just Gryffindors, but even Slytherins froze, as if under a Petrificus Totalus. Angry parents, Sean mused, had a universal power over kids, House rivalries be damned.

The Howler finished berating Ron, then softened, congratulating Ginny on her Gryffindor Sorting. With that, it crumpled into an ordinary letter, drifting into Ron's trembling hands.

"Blimey, that's done," Blaise said, exhaling. "I used to think my mum got things wrong, but she's gentle compared to that. If I got a Howler at school, I'd be mortified to show my face."

Sean smiled, his tone gentle. "Every mum's different. They're human, with flaws like us. If you know they love you, cut them some slack—they do the same for us."

Sean knew Blaise harbored quiet grudges against his mother, a topic too personal to prod. But Blaise's comment opened a door, and Sean offered a nudge, hoping it might help. As a friend, he had to try, even if it changed nothing.

Blaise met Sean's eyes, a faint smile flickering. He didn't reply, instead focusing on his breakfast, eating slowly. Sean let the silence sit, sensing Blaise was mulling it over. By the time Blaise swallowed his last bite, his usual grin returned. He stood with Sean, waved goodbye to Jason, who was off to a different class, and they headed to the Transfiguration classroom, the castle's stone corridors echoing with their steps.

The morning classes were split as usual: Slytherin and Ravenclaw shared Transfiguration first, while Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tackled Herbology. Later, they'd swap—Slytherin and Ravenclaw to Herbology, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff to Transfiguration. Sean, still buzzing from the news of his mother's pregnancy and the arrival of his enchanted shield and chain-mace, walked with Blaise to the Transfiguration classroom, the castle's corridors alive with the chatter of second-years.

Second-year Transfiguration felt sharper, more demanding than the first-year basics. As Sean and Blaise entered the classroom, they spotted a clear box on each desk, a thumb-sized beetle scuttling inside. Sean raised an eyebrow, guessing it was today's task. The beetle, with its glossy shell, seemed to glare back, as if indignant about its role. Blaise nudged him, grinning. "Bet you'll turn that into something fancy."

Students trickled in, quills and books in hand, the room filling with the rustle of robes and the faint scratch of an enchanted chalkboard sketching diagrams in the corner. Professor McGonagall, in her dark green robes, stood at the podium, her sharp gaze sweeping over the second-years. Her presence commanded silence, and the class settled quickly.

"I don't think I need to introduce myself," she announced, her voice crisp. "Let's begin today's lesson."

She lifted a beetle from her desk, holding it up for all to see. With a deft flick of her wand, the beetle shimmered, morphing into an ornate stone button, its surface carved with intricate patterns, free of any ordinary trace. The transformation was flawless, a testament to her mastery of Transfiguration.

"Each of you has a beetle," McGonagall continued, her eyes scanning the room. "Your task is to transform it into a button—any style, but the more detailed and refined, the better. Exceptional work will earn ten House points."

At the mention of points, Blaise and several others glanced at Sean, their expressions a mix of expectation and amusement. Even McGonagall's gaze lingered on him, her lips twitching slightly, as if recalling his knack for standing out. Sean coughed, hiding a smirk, and opened his box. The beetle skittered, eyeing his wand warily.

He raised his wand, focusing.

With a gentle tap, he murmured the incantation. The beetle spun, its form blurring like a tiny whirlwind, and in moments, it settled into a gleaming silver button, studded with emerald flecks that caught the light. The design screamed Slytherin's flair—bold, luxurious, and unmistakably his.