Chapter 437: A Tiny Program
Since Professor Snape had taken over as the temporary instructor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, the lives of the students had become significantly less leisurely. They found themselves caught in a vice between the looming pressure of end-of-term exams and the soul-crushing weight of the assignments Snape assigned with sadistic glee.
Fortunately, the Easter holidays were finally approaching, offering the students a much-needed reprieve.
The Great Hall had been decorated as usual, festooned with colorful silk streamers. Hagrid's massive pumpkins, now hollowed out, had been carved into lanterns so large that three students could sit comfortably inside them.
Sean, however, remained a ghost. He was nowhere to be seen during the day, and even Hermione and Justin found it impossible to track him down.
He was, naturally, quite busy.
The Magic Hand Mirror was set to launch this Easter, and he needed to provide the Fairy Tale Workshop with a few "high-end" variants. There were multi-channel sets that allowed a synchronized conference between several wizards, mirrors that could record and store voice messages, and then... there was the other modification.
"It is a necessity, my dear apprentice. An alchemist may find the squabbles of the world beneath them, but when conflict inevitably arrives, they must possess the power to control their own creations," Professor Terra said, her eyes flashing with a sharp, metallic luster.
"I... I understand, Professor," Sean replied, looking down at the modified hand mirror.
Its physical materials and the intricate engraving techniques remained unchanged. This was a ritual Sean had pioneered; even Professor Terra required significant time to parse its full logic, let alone the average wizards working in the assembly workshop.
So, what exactly had been added?
A small, ostensibly harmless "magical kill switch."
The accurate transmission of information was a strategic asset of the highest order, a fact both Terra and Sean understood perfectly. Therefore, in a moment of dire necessity, Sean could utilize this tiny hidden circuit to effectively shut down the entire future communication network.
He didn't yet know what consequences this circuit might bring, but Terra's words left him thoughtful. It seemed even a magical "telephone" could not escape the fate of being intercepted or dismantled as a target of war.
"The world has never been fair, Sean. But magic is," Professor Terra noted. She seemed satisfied that Sean wasn't clinging to any idealistic notions of "neutrality." "A wizard who pours his talent, his sweat, and his soul into the craft deserves to reap the rewards. In Alchemy, this truth is absolute."
With Terra's approval secured, Sean divided his time equally between his academic studies and his alchemical production. He also maintained a small, ongoing investigation alongside Professor Dumbledore regarding the Malfoy family's recent movements.
The final day before the Easter break arrived.
That morning, a singular event occurred in the Room of Hope. Justin had managed to acquire a Pensieve through one of his many business contacts, and the swirling silver threads within had caught Harry's curiosity.
Justin, being naturally generous, allowed Harry to use the basin. He hadn't expected the result to be so explosive.
"IT WAS MALFOY!"
Harry suddenly let out a roar so loud it made everyone in the room jump.
"What Malfoy? Which one?" Ron asked, rubbing his ears.
"Lucius Malfoy! He's the one who put the diary in Ginny's pocket! He tried to kill her!" Harry shouted, his face turning a dark, furious red as he looked at Ron.
"What? I knew it! I knew that slimy rotter was behind it!" Ron's eyes turned watery with rage. He began pacing the room, shouting at the ceiling. "He's a Death Eater—the whole lot of them are! My dad always said Lucius was up to no good, but to target Ginny... my dad will kill him, I swear it!"
Amidst their fury, Harry and Ron both looked toward Sean's usual seat, but it was empty. The sudden silence made the atmosphere feel even more heavy.
"Are you sure about this, Harry? You realize the gravity of an accusation like that?" Hermione asked urgently.
"Look for yourself, Hermione!" Harry snapped, gesturing toward the Pensieve.
Justin, Hermione, Neville, and Ron crowded around the stone basin. It took them several attempts to properly navigate the memory thread—a fragment from the day at Flourish and Blotts that had finally been brought into focus.
When they finally withdrew from the silver mist, they stood in a stunned, heavy silence.
"He must be punished," Justin said, his voice unusually cold.
"We have to find Sean," Hermione added.
Ron and Harry nodded in grim agreement. When it came to seeking Sean's counsel, their teamwork was flawless. However, because Sean was currently balancing his "hospital observation" with his alchemical duties and his Ravenclaw studies, they couldn't find a single trace of him.
Just as Justin reached for his Magic Hand Mirror to initiate a call, word reached them that the fifth Quidditch match of the term—Gryffindor versus Slytherin—was about to begin.
It was a rematch. The Slytherins had filed a formal protest regarding the "rogue Bludger" incident from their previous encounter, and the school governors—led by Lucius Malfoy—had pressured the school into allowing a second game.
"Malfoy pulled the strings, no doubt about it!" Ron spat as they headed for the pitch.
Harry offered a sharp, determined nod.
Hermione and Justin watched them with growing concern. This year, aside from their early loss, Slytherin had used their Nimbus 2001s to secure a massive 200-point lead in the league standings. To take the Cup, Gryffindor didn't just need to win—they needed to win by a margin of more than two hundred points.
The weight of the victory rested almost entirely on Harry's shoulders; catching the Snitch was worth 150 points.
"Listen to me, Harry," Wood repeated for the tenth time in the locker room. "You can only catch the Snitch after we are at least fifty points ahead. Do you understand? If you catch it too early, we win the match but lose the Cup. You have to wait until we—"
"I've got it, Oliver!" Harry shouted.
His sudden intensity surprised the team, but it left Wood looking jubilant. "That's the spirit, Harry! Like a true gladiator!"
The entire Gryffindor House was holding its breath for this match. Not since the days of the legendary Seeker Charlie Weasley had the lions claimed the Quidditch Cup.
But Harry suspected that no one—not even Wood—wanted to win as badly as he did right now. His hatred for the Malfoys had reached its peak. He hadn't forgotten the Basilisk in the Chamber, the danger Sean had faced in the shadows, or how close he had come to losing his sister.
He had a debt to settle, and he intended to pay it on the pitch.
In the memory of everyone at Hogwarts, no match had ever approached with such a palpable sense of hostility and tension.
[End of Chapter 437]
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