"Sean, have you heard?" Blaise Zabini said, his voice brimming with glee as he approached in the Great Hall. "This morning, our Quidditch team and Gryffindor's lot got into a row over training field time. The savior's sidekick, Weasley, tried to hex Malfoy, but his spell backfired and hit himself. He's been spewing slugs since breakfast. They say Weasley's a right laugh to look at now."
Ron Weasley, was it?
Slugs…
So that's what happened.
Sean recalled the start of term, when Ron and Harry Potter had flown a car to Hogwarts, crashing into the Whomping Willow. The impact snapped Ron's wand, leaving it barely functional, unable to cast a proper spell. This time, Ron's faulty wand had turned his own hex against him. Had it worked, Malfoy would've been the one retching slugs.
Tch, what a pity.
Sean and Blaise chatted idly for a bit, the hall's enchanted ceiling twinkling above them. Sean was ready for lunch, his morning spent tirelessly brewing potions for Andy's order. The work had drained him, and though a Wit-Sharpening Potion had sharpened his mind, the mental fatigue lingered. Only a hearty meal could ease it.
Hogwarts' menu was predictable, but Sean, a meat lover in both his past and present life, found the roasts—beef, lamb, pork, chicken—consistently satisfying. He'd polished off a roast chicken as an appetizer, his appetite primed for more, when a commotion erupted outside the Great Hall. Gasps and angry shouts filled the air. Sean looked up instinctively, his eyes locking on the doorway. Two identical redheads, each gripping an arm, dragged another redhead inside, sprinting toward the Slytherin table.
In that moment, a sinking feeling gripped Sean's gut.
Before he could react, the Weasley twins, Fred and George, hauled their brother Ron right up to the Slytherin table, stopping near Sean and Draco Malfoy. Whether it was Fred or George, one twin steadied Ron while the other slammed a hand on his back, making Ron spew slugs at an alarming rate. The slimy, wriggling creatures spilled from his mouth, splattering the floor and even the table nearby.
The slugs weren't just revolting to look at—they reeked of damp earth, a wretched stench that turned Sean's stomach. Worse, one slug, propelled by the twins' deliberate antics, arced through the air and landed near Sean's plate, its mucous trailing across his beef. The foul odor hit him like a punch.
Ron's face flushed with apology, his eyes pleading as he tried to speak. But before he could, one twin slapped his back again, forcing another slug to erupt onto the table, cutting off Ron's words.
Ron whirled on his brothers, glaring. They'd agreed he'd help prank Malfoy and the Slytherins, but targeting Sean was never part of the plan. To Ron, Sean was different—a Slytherin, yes, but a trusted friend. From their past encounters to Sean's crucial help stopping Quirrell last year, Ron held him in high regard.
Yet here were his twin brothers, acting as if they meant to humiliate Sean on purpose, parading Ron's slug-spewing misery right in front of him. The slugs he'd spat near Sean rivaled the torrent he'd unleashed on Malfoy earlier, a wretched spectacle.
Sean saw Ron's remorse, but frankly, having his meal ruined mid-bite infuriated him. Slamming his knife and fork down, he vaulted over the Slytherin table in one fluid motion, landing before Ron and the twins. He seized Ron, yanking him from the twins' grasp, and with a gentle push, sent him sliding across the floor toward the Hufflepuff table. Ron retched another slug, turning nearby Hufflepuffs from amused onlookers into horrified victims. A few girls, closest to the spray, gagged, their lunches resurfacing.
Turning to the twins, who were poised to bolt, Sean grabbed each by the collar, hoisting them into the air. With a flick, he tossed them upward, their screams echoing as they flailed. Drawing his wand, Sean waved it twice, and the colorful banners dangling from the ceiling twisted, coiling around the twins like serpents. Bound tightly, they hung like trussed-up fish, unable to move.
Amid cheers from Slytherins and some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, Sean flicked his wand again, banishing the repulsive slugs in a shimmer of magic. But his appetite was gone. With Blaise and Jason , he stormed out of the Great Hall, leaving the chaos behind.
Gryffindors shot him glares, but they'd seen the twins start the trouble. Even they were fed up with Fred and George's pranks, having been victims before. No one stepped up to defend the twins, content to watch them dangle. Sean's restraint helped—he'd been firm but not cruel. Had he gone further, Gryffindor wouldn't have stayed quiet.
The afternoon was Sean's own. Back in the common room, he handed the finished potions to Andy, then retreated to his room. He summoned a house-elf to bring tea and scones, nibbling as he unwound. Grabbing his books, he headed to the library to tackle the Firwood and Potions Clubs' assigned texts, their dense pages a necessary grind.
By three or four o'clock, many third-years and above had left for Hogsmeade. As the sun dipped low, Sean returned to his room, stowing his books. He changed clothes, pocketed a vial of Polyjuice Potion, and cast a Disillusionment Charm, blending into the shadows. Slipping through the Whomping Willow's tunnel, he noted its bandaged branches, weakened from Harry and Ron's car crash. The tree's sluggish swings posed no threat, and Sean reached the Shrieking Shack with ease.
Checking the marks he'd left on its doors and windows, Sean found them undisturbed, exhaling in relief. He eased the Shack's door open, stepping silently into Hogsmeade.