The Firwood Club meeting didn't drag on for long. Unlike the Potions Club, where brewing demanded hours of meticulous stirring and simmering, the Transfiguration discussion wrapped up in about an hour and a half, leaving Sean with time to spare.
As he stepped out from the painting, its frame shimmering back to normal behind him, Sean planned to head downstairs to the Slytherin common room for some rest. But before he could move, the fifth-year Slytherin from the club hurried up, his steps quick and purposeful. "Sean, care to introduce ourselves?" he said, his voice friendly but direct.
Sean paused in the corridor, sizing up the older student. The boy stood barely over five feet, his frame slight but wiry, exuding a sharp, almost blade-like energy. His narrow eyes and angular face gave him a keen, focused look, like a hawk sizing up its mark.
"You know my name?" Sean asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not many in Slytherin don't," the boy replied with a grin. "If nothing else, your scuffle with Malfoy at last year's Sorting ceremony made you a legend among us." He shifted topics smoothly. "Let's make it official. I'm Aiden, Aiden Fox."
"Sean Bulstrode. Good to meet you," Sean said, offering a firm handshake.
The two fell into step, descending the staircase together, their conversation flowing easily as they headed toward the common room.
"Aiden, when did you join the Firwood Club?" Sean asked, curious about the older student's experience.
"Fourth year," Aiden said. "Been at it for a year now."
"Then you're gearing up for exams this year, right?" Sean ventured.
Aiden caught the hint, his face twisting into a wry smile. He knew Sean meant the O.W.L.s. "Yeah, the O.W.L.s," he said, his tone tinged with resignation. "I'm keen on Transfiguration, and my marks there are solid, but the other subjects? Not so much. I'll be happy with an 'Exceeds Expectations' and call it a day."
Sean nodded, understanding. Hogwarts was full of students like Aiden—gifted in one or two subjects, passionate about their strengths, but average elsewhere. Students like Sean or Hermione Granger, excelling across the board, were rare in any year.
Speaking of Hermione, Sean had half-expected to see her in the Firwood Club. Her brilliance was undeniable, but McGonagall's high standards suggested Hermione wasn't quite ready for the club's advanced Transfiguration. Maybe next year, or the year after, she'd make it. In class, Sean had noticed Hermione's flair for Charms and Potions. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd already joined Flitwick's Charms Club. As for Potions, Snape's bias against Gryffindors likely kept her out of the Potions Club, despite her talent.
Sean's own Charms skills were strong, but not enough to earn Flitwick's invitation. Perhaps in a couple of years, he'd catch the professor's eye.
Back in the Slytherin common room, Sean and Aiden parted ways, each heading to their dorms. Sean sought out Blaise Zabini first, catching up over a quick chat by the emerald-lit fireplace, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. Only then did he return to his room, sinking onto his bed with a sigh, the day's weight lifting slightly.
The first week of classes felt much like last year's, a familiar rhythm of lectures and homework. By Saturday, both the Potions Club and Firwood Club had held their second meetings. The Potions Club was as grueling as ever, Snape's stern guidance unchanged. Sean's desk now groaned under six new Potions texts, thick tomes he'd need to slog through. McGonagall, too, had recommended several Transfiguration books. They were "optional," but skipping them meant falling behind the club's pace—and falling behind meant getting dismissed. They were, in truth, mandatory reading, and Sean braced himself for late nights with his quill.
Coffee mug in hand, Sean left his room that morning, set to meet Andy to discuss their ongoing potion collaboration. As he entered the common room, he spotted a group of Slytherin Quidditch players, their green robes gleaming, heading out for practice. He nodded to himself, realizing the season's preparations had kicked off in the first week.
Finding a quiet corner, Sean settled into an armchair. Soon, Andy arrived, sliding into the seat opposite. After a year of working together, they skipped pleasantries. Andy pulled out a parchment list and handed it to Sean. "Sean, can you have these potions ready by the weekend?"
Sean scanned the list, his brow furrowing. "This is a lot. These two potions are especially tricky to brew—too time-consuming for me."
Andy considered Sean's pointed-out potions, then scratched one off the list. "This one's the bulkiest, but it's simple enough. I'll pass it to other students. Can you handle these two instead?"
Sean weighed his schedule. It was Saturday, and he planned to slip out to Hogsmeade that evening when third-years and above were allowed to visit, to handle some personal matters. The potions would take most of the morning, leaving the afternoon for reading. It was tight, but manageable.
"Alright, I can do those," Sean said, nodding.
Andy's face broke into a relieved smile. "Thanks, Sean. You're saving me here."
"You seem in a rush this year," Sean observed. "Something up?"
Andy hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing major, just family business. These potions are a huge help, and I can manage the rest."
"Fair enough," Sean said. "If it's serious, though, let me know. I can shuffle some things around."
"No need," Andy insisted. "You've got enough on your plate. I'll handle it."
Sean didn't press further. They nodded to each other, parting ways. Sean returned to his room, gathered Andy's supplied ingredients and a few books, and left the common room. He headed alone to the Room of Requirement, entering the familiar potion-brewing chamber he'd used last year.
Blaise wasn't with him this term. On weekends, Blaise trailed his Ravenclaw girlfriend to the library, studying with a dedication that seemed out of character. Sean approved—whatever Blaise's motives, the effort was real, sparing him last-minute cramming before exams.
By 12:40 p.m., Sean emerged from the Room of Requirement, exhaustion tugging at him. He sighed, leaning against the wall, and downed a Potion, its sharp tang clearing his mind. He turned toward the Great Hall for lunch, but as he stepped inside, Blaise approached, his face alight with a mischievous, gleeful smirk.