"You've done really well."
Sean shared his Yorkshire pudding with Justin,
thinking that a sweet treat might lift his friend's mood a little.
"Professor Snape is an idiot." He whispered. "Don't be sad, Hermione. Want some pudding?"
Sean liked Yorkshire pudding very much. This fondness came from the elderly lady who used to donate supplies to the orphanage, always bringing plenty of pudding—Sean had never tasted anything better.
So he always chose a spot where the most puddings were available.
"Mm."
Hermione rarely refused, so the three of them turned their complaints about Professor Snape into an all-out attack on the pudding.
Professors weren't always fair, Sean thought,
especially depending on whether Harry Potter was nearby.
After finishing his pudding, Justin's conversation gradually shifted toward Snape's "brilliant" deeds:
pretending not to patrol at night while secretly casting an apparition spell, catching five roaming Gryffindors;
staying at school during Christmas to catch two couples; and just now in class, punishing Gryffindor points because Harry didn't tell Neville the correct way to brew a potion—though Harry himself knew nothing.
"Oh, Hermione, I'm giving these examples to show you that if anyone's at fault here, it certainly isn't you. We all know Professor Snape is strict, short-tempered, and sometimes completely unreasonable."
Justin said softly.
Sean nodded silently.
"If you doubt yourself, deny yourself, or feel sad because of an unreasonable person, that would be silly, right? Even if that person is a professor." Justin continued.
Sean nodded again.
"What do you think, Sean?"
Justin looked at him expectantly.
Sean thought for a moment:
"Yes."
"All right then."
Justin nodded helplessly.
At that moment, Sean noticed Hermione trembling slightly. He pulled Justin close, and the two stood in front of her, pretending to chat, shielding her quiet sobs from anyone passing by.
"Hermione never complains when she feels wronged. I think I need to keep a closer eye on her.
She always pretends not to care, and those who bully her never know how hurt she really is,"
Sean heard Justin whisper.
"And… how can I let her know she doesn't have to act strong in front of friends?"
Sean stared at Justin, remembering how Hermione had almost no friends. Gryffindor had excluded her, Ron had even given her nicknames and mocked her, making her hide in the washroom to cry.
At least until Halloween, Hermione had been all alone.
Sean let out a sigh of relief.
At least now, she had two friends.
…
Ravenclaw's only class today was afternoon Herbology, and Sean had arrived early in front of the domed building.
The first greenhouse smelled of damp, warm soil. Sunlight filtered through the glass dome into a hazy golden-green glow.
Professor Sprout had her sleeves rolled up, her dragon-hide gloves caked with compost, carefully tending to a plant that resembled a spider's nest.
Three Hufflepuff students gathered around a deep trough growing pumpkin-like plants, their scarf-wrapped heads close together, pointing and discussing what it might be.
"Clever little sprouts should remember: this plant is called Spider Eggs. Though it looks like a spider egg, it's actually a green berry on both sides. Don't be frightened by the roots; they're not real spiders, just the root system. Can anyone tell me how often Spider Eggs can be harvested?"
The chubby professor's question stumped the Hufflepuffs.
Neville seemed to have an idea but stammered out nothing. As for Ernie and the short, chubby boy, their eyes were filled with confusion.
"The books describe it as a perennial plant, harvested three to four times a season, and if cultivated well, it could yield more. Some wizards have even harvested Spider Eggs five times."
A clear voice rang out. Professor Sprout smiled warmly and enthusiastically said:
"Mr. Green, very well answered… child, it's a pleasure to see you."
She said this and then directed Neville and the others to pick the Christmas cacti.
"Ah, warm sun, warm summer, always new shoots taking root. Sometimes I wonder if I've lost some of my energy; otherwise, how could it be so difficult to guide several young witches and wizards at once… Mr. Lombarton, watch your legs! Wingardium Leviosa—"
Neville almost spilled the dragon dung fertilizer onto his shoes, but Professor Sprout quickly levitated the bucket with a charm.
"Oh! Mr. McMillan!" Professor Sprout exclaimed, then went to handle Ernie, who was surrounded by bouncing bulbs.
At that moment, the greenhouse door opened,
and a tall figure stepped inside:
"Not every first-year wizard is Sean Green, right?"
Bruce leaned against the plant rack, a teasing light flickering in his eyes.
…
After Herbology class,
Sean thought he probably shouldn't come to the greenhouse again for a while.
The chubby professor had already worked up a lot of sweat, and having three Hufflepuffs to supervise today had left her practically floating off the ground.
In the greenhouse corridor, a gentle breeze blew,
Bruce leaned like a statue, and Sean thought he must have some modeling potential.
After all, the two upper-year witches nearby had glanced at him at least ten times.
"Sizzling Honeycomb Candy—" Bruce placed a candy that looked extremely sweet into Sean's hand.
"Want to try it now?" Curious, Sean ate the juice-filled jelly ball,
and then heard a shout:
"Green, don't eat that! Damn you, Bruce, you—" Leon's blond hair gleamed in the sunlight, but even as he strode over, he couldn't stop Bruce in time.
Sean vaguely felt a surge of magic, and then he started floating. Bruce, standing next to him, floated up as well.
"Isn't this amazing?!" Bruce said excitedly.
"'Amazing,' my Merlin's pants!" Leon grabbed both Sean and Bruce with one hand on each side. "I should've just let you fly!"
He glared viciously at Bruce.
"Sorry, Green, that guy's like this with friends. He's pulled the same tricks on Pister and me plenty of times. Let me explain: Sizzling Honeycomb Candy is a juice-filled jelly ball that makes people float. One of its ingredients is the Billywig insect. Anyone stung by it feels dizzy, then begins to float gently in the air."
When Leon looked at Sean, the anger was gone; his voice was gentle.
"Oh, come on! Leon! You can't bear it!"
Bruce seemed to still be laughing loudly, and then Sean saw Leon release his hold.
"Leon! No! No! I'm sorry—" As Bruce screamed, Sean noticed Leon smugly flick his wrist.
It turned out that, at some point, Leon had tied a rope between him and Bruce.
"I have my own methods for dealing with unruly people," Sean heard him say.