Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 497 498: He’s Looking for Me

The voices continued from inside the room. Sean stood perfectly still, watching

as Harry pressed himself even closer to the wood, desperate to catch every

syllable.

"Well, Arthur, I suppose you must do what you think is right," Mrs. Weasley

said. "But you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I truly believe that as long as

Dumbledore is Headmaster, nothing can touch Harry at Hogwarts. I expect he's

been informed of all this?"

"Of course he has. We had to ask his permission to station the Azkaban guards

around the school entrances. He wasn't happy about it, but he eventually

agreed."

"Not happy? But they're there to catch Black! Why wouldn't he be happy?"

"Dumbledore isn't fond of the Dementors," Mr. Weasley said, his voice heavy. "To

be honest, neither am I... but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black,

sometimes you have to join forces with the very things you'd usually run from."

"If they save Harry—"

"—then I shall never speak a word against them again," Mr. Weasley said wearily.

"Come on, Molly, let's go upstairs. We can finish this in our room."

Sean heard the scraping of chairs. The Weasleys were heading for the door.

Thinking fast, Sean tapped his wand against his own shoulder and then Harry's.

Instantly, they both felt a sensation like a cold egg being cracked over their

heads. The Disillusionment Charm rippled over them, turning their skin and

clothes into the exact color and texture of the hallway carpet and wallpaper.

They became living shadows, invisible to the naked eye.

The door creaked open. A moment later, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hurried past, their

footsteps echoing up the stairs.

"He's looking for me..."

Harry's voice was a ghost of a whisper. He was staring out a nearby window at

the dark street, looking as though he expected Sirius Black to be standing right

under the lamppost.

"Sean..." Harry turned, looking at the older boy as if he were a lifeline. "Did

you hear that? He's looking for me."

The facts were crashing down on him. Sirius Black had killed thirteen people

with a single curse. He was Voldemort's right hand. Fudge hadn't punished Harry

for his accidental magic because the Ministry was terrified of losing their

"target."

Black's objective was clear.

The clatter of a waiter clearing plates in the common room brought Harry back to

reality. He looked into Sean's calm emerald eyes and felt a wave of inexplicable

peace wash over him.

The Weasleys clearly thought he would fall apart if he knew the truth. But Harry

found himself agreeing with Mrs. Weasley: Hogwarts was the safest place on

earth. Not just because of Dumbledore, but because of Sean.

People always said that Voldemort had only ever feared Dumbledore. Surely Black,

his servant, would feel the same. And then there were the Dementors. Everyone

seemed terrified of them, which meant the chances of Black sneaking past them

into the castle were slim to none.

But one thing still bothered him. Sean had said Black was "after something else"

and wouldn't hurt him. Why?

As Harry pondered this, he saw Sean flick his fingers toward a nearby chair. A

small red bottle came floating through the air—Ron's Rat Tonic. It had been

tucked into the cushion of the chair the Weasleys had just vacated.

Harry grabbed the bottle, looking relieved. Sean gave him a nod, and the two of

them hurried back toward the stairs.

As they reached the landing, they found Fred and George ducked into the shadows,

doubled over with silent laughter. They were watching Percy, who was currently

tearing his and Ron's room apart in a frantic search for his missing badge.

"We've got it," Fred whispered, holding up the silver shield. "We've given it a

little... upgrade."

The words on the badge had been magically altered. Instead of "Head Boy," it now

read "Bighead Boy."

Harry's shoulders shook as he fought back a laugh.

With the Rat Tonic returned, Justin and the others finally managed to separate

Ron from Percy's shouting match. Percy looked positively murderous—it's hard to

maintain your dignity when you're wearing a badge that calls you a "Bighead."

"Let's go..." Ron whispered, ushering them out of the pub. As soon as they hit

the street, he burst into a fit of laughter that didn't stop until they reached

the doors of Flourish and Blotts.

The afternoon sun was golden and warm, and Diagon Alley was teeming with life.

In the span of an hour, Sean had already been approached by six different

Kneazles (or cats with Kneazle blood). Apparently, his magical aura was a magnet

for them.

After a blushing young witch scooped up her pet and apologized for the

intrusion, Sean found himself face-to-face with a man who looked very out of

place in the summer heat: Professor Quirrell.

The Professor was wrapped in a thick black cloak, looking as twitchy and nervous

as ever. While the other students were busy exploring the bookstore, Sean

stepped into the shadows to speak with him.

"Professor," Sean said quietly. "How goes the search?"

"I... I am deeply sorry, Mr. Green. I cannot find him," Quirrell stammered, his

eyes darting back and forth.

"It is not your fault," Sean replied, his brow furrowing slightly. "If he is

determined to remain hidden, no one can find him easily."

"He... He is cunning, Mr. Green. He possesses powers we can scarcely imagine.

After all this time, that forest has become his territory..." Quirrell's voice

was barely a whisper. "With his level of magic, even in that state, he

remains... alive. And not just alive, but plotting. You must be careful. He will

return. If we are to... to end him, it won't be in those woods."

Quirrell looked haunted. "In that form, he cannot truly die. Even if we wipe

away the darkness there... he will find another way to fulfill his design."

"Continue your search," Sean instructed calmly. "If you encounter any trouble,

contact me immediately through the Magic Hand Mirror. I'm sending Tila with

you."

Sean raised his hand, and a small, twig-like creature—a Bowtruckle—crawled out

of his sleeve. Tila chirped softly and scrambled into Quirrell's pocket.

"Ah... oh," Quirrell said, looking down at the tiny guardian. Tila reached out a

leafy finger and scratched the Professor's arm affectionately.

"She likes you," Sean said. "If anything happens, she knows how to activate the

mirror for you."

"She... she likes me?" Quirrell looked dazed. "Does that mean... does that mean

I'm doing well?"

"You are facing the greatest danger and the darkest evil in our world,

Professor," Sean said seriously. "You are doing more than well."

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