Chapter 436: On the Eve of Easter
When Sean finally stepped out of the Alchemy office, the twilight was a searing, furnace-red.
Professor Terra had already secured the suppliers. She had gone so far as to utilize her own personal workshop to establish a complete production chain. This meant they truly possessed the capacity to meet the demands of the entire Wizarding World.
The only drawback was that the mass-produced versions of the Magic Hand Mirrors were of significantly lower quality. The intricate magical circuitry Sean had designed was so complex that even an advanced Alchemy apprentice couldn't fully grasp it, and even a wizard who had spent decades in the trade struggled to replicate it perfectly. As a result, even the best mass-produced mirrors would likely only function for two years at most.
To Sean's surprise, Professor Terra had simply laughed and said this was a "fortunate development."
The glint in her eyes was one Sean hadn't seen before—a sharp, business-minded cunning. It made him realize that in the world of professional Alchemy, he still had a very long road ahead of him.
A bright, vibrant spring arrived at last.
The days grew increasingly clear and warm, with gentle breezes ruffling the trees. Yet the students found themselves trapped indoors, buried under a mountain of assignments and making frantic, daily pilgrimages to the library.
Perhaps it was the recent stress of course selection, or perhaps the professors had collectively decided to increase the workload before the Easter break; either way, the students seemed to have an inexhaustible list of tasks.
The chatter in the Great Hall shifted from the electives to the looming terror of future exams.
"You lot don't know? In our fifth year, we have to sit a truly horrific set of exams," Ron said during breakfast, gesturing wildly with a piece of toast. "Fred and George are already starting to panic about next year; they have to take their O.W.L.s—Ordinary Wizarding Levels.
"And Percy is currently grinding for his N.E.W.T.s—Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. That's the highest academic qualification Hogwarts offers. Percy is desperate for top marks; he wants a spot at the Ministry so badly it's making him go spare."
"O.W.L.s?" Harry asked, looking lost.
"Ordinary Wizarding Levels, Harry. Every fifth-year has to take them," Ron explained.
"Mmm-hmm," Hermione added. "Professor McGonagall said her N.E.W.T. classes only accept students who achieve an 'Exceeds Expectations' or higher in their O.W.L.s."
"And what was that other one again?" Harry's head was spinning.
"Honestly, Harry, Wood has flown the common sense right out of your head," Ron barked, before suddenly stopping. He remembered that Harry hadn't been present when Justin explained this a few days ago—he'd been at practice. Ron's mouth hung open for a second, looking as though he'd just swallowed a slug.
"N.E.W.T. stands for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests," Justin explained patiently for Harry's benefit. "Hogwarts consolidates the curriculum after the fifth year. Only students with high enough marks are invited into the N.E.W.T. classes to continue their studies for another two years before the final exams."
"And what happens if you don't want to take them?" Harry blurted out, his mind immediately flashing to Potions. The thought of two more years of Snape's glares was a grim prospect.
"Then you leave Hogwarts, Harry," Justin said simply.
"Oh..." Harry looked as though he'd been hit with a Bludger. Suddenly, even Potions didn't seem so bad if it meant he got to stay at the castle.
"You can choose the subjects you actually enjoy, Harry," Hermione noted. As she mentioned "choosing," her eyes drifted toward Sean.
Sean was eating quietly, making no sound at all. Having heard the discussion, he had retreated into his usual state of deep reflection. It was easy to tell when his mind was elsewhere—his speed of consuming food dropped to a crawl.
As Sean sipped his pumpkin juice, he mused on the Hogwarts hierarchy and the career paths available to wizards.
The O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s effectively determined a wizard's entire future. To work at St. Mungo's Hospital, for instance, a student needed N.E.W.T.s in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts—with marks no lower than an 'E' (Exceeds Expectations). To become an Auror, the requirements were even steeper: at least five N.E.W.T.s, all with high grades.
Most second-years didn't realize the stakes yet. They were simply trying to survive the week, unaware that their current grades were laying the tracks for their entire adult lives.
Justin and Sean reached the same realization at the exact same moment. They shared a brief, meaningful look across the table.
"Does the Wizarding World not have Career Guidance?" Justin whispered.
"It starts in the fifth year," Sean replied. "Any earlier and the advice might not stick."
"Right. But we're a bit ahead of the curve, aren't we?" Justin added, casting a look toward Harry. The Boy Who Lived had spent the last ten minutes alternating between looking at his broom and looking at his Charms textbook.
"We are," Sean said softly.
The morning outside the Great Hall windows was magnificent. The sky was a hazy, powdered blue, and the air felt fresh and new. Directly across from the windows, Sean could see the massive beech tree at the edge of the forest. Hagrid was busy in his garden, his heavy coat discarded and his beard twitching with every movement.
Easter was approaching, and with it came the news of Gilderoy Lockhart's trial.
The revelation left the school in a state of collective shock. When the news was officially announced in the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall's eyes immediately sought out Sean. Beside her, the other professors looked jubilant; no one had truly liked Lockhart. Even Professor Sprout was seen having an extra goblet of Butterbeer, a rare flush rising to her cheeks.
The students sat huddled over the latest edition of The Daily Prophet, unable to believe that a recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, had successfully deceived the entire world for years.
Even more surprising was the fact that Rita Skeeter was the lead reporter. At some point, the "notorious" journalist seemed to have "seen the light." While her reporting was still flamboyant and sensationalist, it was at least rooted in the actual facts of the case.
Rita herself was currently in high spirits. With a scandal this juicy already gift-wrapped for her, she didn't even need to invent lies. It was a career-defining scoop.
"Does this mean Defense class is canceled?" Harry asked hopefully.
"I reckon so!" Ron added eagerly. "It's not like we haven't had enough practical experience lately anyway."
"Don't be ridiculous!" Hermione snapped, though she looked just as curious as they were.
She looked up at the High Table toward Professor Dumbledore. The Headmaster, with a serene smile, stood up to announce that Professor Snape would be taking over as the temporary Defense instructor.
As Harry went catatonic and Ron groaned into his hands, Sean had a sudden, amusing thought.
The Defense position was cursed—no teacher ever lasted more than a year. But Professor Snape was only a substitute. He wouldn't be in the post for a full year.
Is he... essentially bugging the curse? Sean wondered.
[End of Chapter 436]
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