Chapter 442: R.A.B
Sean reached deep into the Wizard's Tome and drew out a single object.
A locket.
He turned it over in his hand.
Compared with the one he had seen in the Pensieve, this locket was neither as large nor as ornate. It lacked the elaborate flourishes and the proud, serpentine "S" that marked Slytherin's heirlooms.
Inside, the only thing nestled where a portrait should have been was a tightly folded piece of parchment.
Sean looked up. The corridor was empty; he was quite alone.
Moonlight had turned the passage cold and silvery. Spring nights seldom brought rain like this one. Droplets pattered against the windows, splashing into tiny white flowers of water.
He took out the scrap of parchment, lit his wand, and read by its soft glow:
*To the Dark Lord,*
*I know that when you read this letter, I shall already be dead. But I want you to know this: it was I who discovered your secret. I have taken the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as possible.*
*I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,*
*you may be mortal once more.*
*— R.A.B.*
He might have been the first wizard to uncover the existence of Voldemort's Horcruxes. He was almost certainly the first who had resolved to destroy one.
Under the cool moonlight, Sean set the locket casually upon the surface of the Wizard's Tome, then carefully tucked the note away alongside the ancient coffin for safekeeping.
Before long, Sirius Black would escape from Azkaban, and the Magic Hand Mirror in Harry's possession would allow Sean to locate him at once.
Until then, there were still many matters that required his attention.
Such as dealing with a certain rat.
The sky had grown ink-black outside; the night seemed to stretch on endlessly. Sean heard the echo of his own footsteps in the corridor and the soft hooting of owls from the towers above Hogwarts. He was not the first wizard to hear those sounds, nor would he be the last.
...
"Sean? Are you there?"
In the quiet of the Ravenclaw Tower, a very faint voice spoke.
The words had been specially enchanted; only the wizard holding the matching Magic Hand Mirror could hear them.
"Harry?"
Sean sounded unsurprised.
"Merlin's beard — it's real! You actually made a telephone — a magic telephone —"
Harry's voice came through in breathless, hurriedly hushed bursts from the other side.
"Yes, Harry. If anything happens, you can reach me straight away."
Sean answered patiently.
"Special circumstances… I understand, Sean. But…"
Harry lowered his voice even further.
"Is the little McGonagall on here real?"
Sean glanced down at his own mirror. There, in miniature, was a very small version of Professor McGonagall. Her face was stern, yet because of her cartoonish size she looked oddly endearing.
"No, it isn't real," Sean said, slightly flustered.
When he had first created the prototype Hand Mirror, he had casually designed Hermione's image — the tiny McGonagall figure — and apparently forgotten to remove it afterwards.
Beside the miniature professor stood a friendly badger, a plump Neville, a Ron with two chicken legs stuffed in his mouth, and a smaller Harry. None of these would appear on Harry's mirror yet; they would only show once Sean had delivered the Easter gifts to everyone.
For now, the mirror only contained Sean, Hermione, Justin, and Harry.
"I thought…" Harry sounded embarrassed. "Then who is she?"
"It's Hermione," Sean replied, not hiding the truth.
"Her—Herm—pfft… hehe…"
Suppressed laughter drifted through the mirror.
By the time Harry had laughed himself to tears, Sean had already ended the call.
"Oh!"
Harry let out a mortified little groan.
After waiting a while, he cheerfully called the miniature McGonagall instead.
"Sean?"
Hermione's voice came through, bright with surprise.
"It's me — Harry," said Harry.
"Harry, don't disturb me right now. I'm busy."
Hermione hung up at once.
A moment later she called back.
"Harry, did you receive one too?"
There was clear delight in her tone.
"Of course. I'm not busy at all… You can call me dozens of times if you like…"
"Harry—"
Harry suspected she was stamping her foot.
That night, Harry's attention remained firmly captured by the Magic Hand Mirror. Their long-held dream had finally come true! For so long the greatest difficulty had been finding Sean when they needed him. Now they could pass messages quickly and easily.
Harry felt that the safety of Hogwarts Castle had just risen another notch. He slept especially soundly that night.
He didn't even notice the scuffling noises made by Ron's rat.
...
Easter finally arrived.
Exchanging enchanted eggs was one of the favourite pastimes of the younger witches and wizards.
Sean had prepared an egg for everyone in the little group. Most contained a Magic Hand Mirror along with the instruction booklet he had taken from Professor Terra's workshop.
A few eggs held more unusual gifts. For Professor Snape, Sean had selected useful sections from the ancient tomes in the Ravenclaw office, with Raven's permission, and bound them into slim, practical volumes. Shrunk down with a charm, the books would expand to fill an entire room once the egg was opened and touched.
Professor Snape was a true master of potions; the gap between them was roughly ninety-nine Seans. These books would surely be far more useful in the professor's hands than in his own.
For Professor McGonagall's egg, Sean had placed his own handwritten notes on original Transfiguration spells — "Dragon's Wingbeat" and "Vine Stone Guardian" among them. Though these bore the unmistakable stamp of Sean's personal magical framework , they still offered fresh ideas to the field of Transfiguration.
It was on Easter Day that Professor Snape, as usual, was summoned to the Headmaster's office.
— Dumbledore always liked to invite people in for tea at such times.
The Headmaster's study was overflowing with gifts, some of them nearly brushing the ceiling.
Dumbledore sipped his red tea contentedly while opening presents. With a casual flick of his fingers, the Easter eggs cracked open by themselves, revealing their contents.
Snape tossed his own egg onto the pile. Dumbledore, pretending to be surprised, swapped it with another.
The corner of Snape's mouth curled in a sneer. He took the egg with cold indifference and turned to leave.
He cared nothing for gifts. What irritated him far more were the smug, gloating faces of those who enjoyed showing off.
In the dungeons.
Only a handful of Easter eggs sat on the desk in the Potions Master's office.
The door banged open. Snape swept in like a thundercloud.
His eyes flicked instinctively to the desk. With a wave of his wand, one particular egg flew into his hand.
The moment the tiny book inside brushed his fingers, it exploded outward in a cascade of pages, magically filling the entire office.
A book jabbed Snape squarely in the face. He bared his teeth in helpless fury and snarled through clenched jaws:
"Sean Green!"
(End of Chapter)
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