"Sean…"
Harry's eyes immediately went to Sean, who was polishing up his Herbology notes.
"Sean, clearly we know you even less than The Daily Prophet does," Hermione said resentfully, waving the newspaper she'd just received. Besides Hagrid's story, it even devoted a whole section to the newly opened shop:
"Sold Out—A Series Worth Filing Under Magical Education!"
"This report is ridiculously over-the-top… and the author is Rita?"
Ron marveled. "I mean—do you remember? She literally compared Armando to an idiot."
Justin pulled out his own copy and spotted exactly the exaggeration Ron meant at a glance:
Green Bookshop sold, in just eight hours, ten times what other shops sold over a full twenty-four hours!
Rita's "benchmark" was Green Bookshop's eight business hours versus other bookshops' entire twenty-four hours—open and closed combined.
And on that basis, she produced an even more absurd statistic.
Of course, with a skewed angle like that, it was easy for her to crown Green Bookshop as the finest bookshop in the whole British wizarding world.
While they were absorbed in the paper, Whitey arrived too, carrying a copy of The Daily Prophet.
Sean reached out; Whitey landed in his palm. With a light tap of his wand in his right hand, pumpkin juice, bacon bits, and small toast cubes floated onto Whitey's gold-trimmed little plate.
Only after the snow-covered courier had eaten and seemed to shake off her weariness did Sean glance at The Daily Prophet.
"Will Green Bookshop be the best bookshop in the wizarding world? Of course—and it's beyond question! Reporter Rita Skeeter sincerely explains…"
Seeing the dramatic wording, Sean folded it up quickly—though his thoughts drifted.
Now that Green Bookshop was open, it just so happened he had somewhere to publish his alchemy notes as well…
"I'm not surprised," Hermione said, lifting her chin. "Rita's the sort who's used to flattering her way through life."
"Why would Rita flatter Sean?" Ron muttered—then suddenly snapped his head up and stared at Sean with a very strange look.
Sean… was, after all, officially recognized by the International Alchemy Conference Joint Committee as the most gifted alchemist in six hundred years…
And also their youngest member, and the second Hogwarts student to ever win the International Alchemy Conference's Breakthrough Contribution Gold Medal.
Even Headmaster Dumbledore had been five years older when he won that award!
At this age, in a lot of ways, Sean had already surpassed Dumbledore.
After spending so long together, Ron still wasn't used to it—Sean was a huge celebrity.
"Hermione, look," Justin said quietly. He was always steadier than the others, and more inclined to think things through. He pointed at Rita Skeeter's byline.
"This… you mean…?"
Hermione froze, the hand holding the paper going still.
For days, they'd been hunting for a newspaper willing to expose Lockhart's true face—plus a reporter who could grab attention and loved digging up scandals like this.
And now, the reporter was right in front of them.
In the Great Hall, the chatter never stopped. Everyone smoothly accepted the fact that Sean had opened yet another shop.
After you'd heard about a second-year who could carry a sword and kill a basilisk alone, nothing else about him was shocking anymore.
That was true for the Hope Nook group, anyway. Across the Hall, every table—every year—had turned to look.
"Green finally opened a shop. I can buy enough Green Notes to last me forever…"
Hannah said shyly, bright with excitement. The Hufflepuffs around her nodded so hard their heads nearly bobbed off.
Usually, Green Notes helped them understand magic. Come finals, a single Green Note could practically guarantee a passing grade—in any subject.
Basically a sacred relic.
Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were excited too. As for the Slytherin table—
"It's just a set of notes," Pansy snorted.
"Buy ten sets," Malfoy said with narrowed eyes.
Crabbe and Goyle nodded without even thinking.
"Parkinson," Malfoy said in a deliberately deep voice when Pansy looked over in confusion. "You'll understand."
…
The discussion in the Hall only grew hotter. Green Bookshop had launched an entirely new line.
And since it was in Hogsmeade, older students would be able to see it for themselves soon enough.
So younger students begging for someone to buy things for them, younger students trying to sneak out, and older students who were simply curious all piled into the Christmas-season buzz.
Right then, Malfoy's owl brought him another heap of sweets from home.
That was normal, so he smugly tore the packages open at the Slytherin table—only to reveal the complete Green Notes series inside.
At the same time, an owl from Neville's grandmother delivered him a small parcel.
Neville opened it excitedly and showed everyone: a glass ball about the size of a large marble, filled with what looked like swirling white smoke.
"You all know this—my Remembrall! Lately I haven't forgotten much, so Gran hasn't been sending it…"
he explained, clutching it tightly. "I have to hold it like this—if it turns red—oh…"
His face fell as the Remembrall suddenly lit up, bright red.
"…I forgot something again…"
Neville wracked his brain, trying to remember what he'd forgotten. The Remembrall rolled along the table and stopped by Sean's hand.
Sean picked it up lightly—then something strange happened. The Remembrall still glowed red in his hand.
Sean frowned.
"You're telling me you put dozens of plans on your map, and you still forgot one or two?!" Ron and Harry gaped.
"Sean, take a break," they said in unison.
But Sean just held the Remembrall quietly, watching the red smoke churn inside.
"Neville. Your Remembrall."
He handed it back, then turned and left the Great Hall.
"O-oh… thanks…"
Neville accepted it carefully, then stared at the small wizard's retreating back.
He could feel it—Sean had looked confused, and that was something Neville almost never saw on him.
Passing through the entrance hall, Sean spotted the caretaker, Mr. Filch, standing just inside the front doors. He was checking off a long list, eyes sharp, determined not to let a single unauthorized student slip out.
Filch's double chin wobbled as he grumbled:
"Pests! Pests! It's that pest time again—nasty little witches and wizards off to Hogsmeade for stink bombs, hiccup powder, and flutterby worms…"
~~~
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