Chapter 379: Constant Rain
The night was long and the stars were brilliant. Against the ink-black sky, Hogwarts Castle glowed with a tranquil, midnight blue.
The corridors were almost entirely deserted. Only the occasional member of the Hogwarts Kneazle Society flitted past, whispering eagerly about Harry and Ginny's reported dream encounters with the legendary guardian.
Alas, though Christmas had long since passed, the rest of the club had made zero progress. The Lucky Black Cat had not deigned to visit anyone else's slumber. It was as if the stories of the previous term had truly been nothing more than a shared, beautiful hallucination.
Against Sean's chest, the Wizard's Tome and the Soul Hallow hung from their cords, swaying gently with every step. Beside him, Justin and Hermione walked with a light, rhythmic pace.
The Diadem had been destroyed.
The relief on their faces was palpable. Even if Voldemort was destined to return one day, they now knew that as long as they kept fighting—struggling against the dark again and again—they might ensure he never found his way back.
However, many questions remained.
"A Horcrux... Voldemort's method of resurrection," Hermione whispered, her voice low and cautious. "What exactly is the principle behind it? How does it work?"
Sean came to a halt. He looked at Hermione and gave a slow shake of his head, offering no verbal answer.
As Magick Moste Evile had warned, it was a subject that should never be discussed. Even Professor Dumbledore only shared the mechanics of it with Harry's circle when it became an absolute necessity. The lure of immortality was a dangerous thing; such secrets were best left buried in the hearts of those whose will was ironclad.
"Honestly, Hermione, Sean isn't a walking encyclopedia. Perhaps that's a question for Professor Dumbledore?" Justin suggested with a wink.
Hermione fell silent. Both she and Justin knew that Sean almost certainly had the answer. He always seemed to know more than anyone else. Whether it was due to his terrifyingly sharp observation or his depth of reflection, the result was the same: he held as many secrets as the Headmaster himself.
If the Kneazle Society ever put up a banner claiming the Castle Kneazle was the sentient embodiment of Hogwarts itself, the trio would likely have agreed. But that level of connection meant Sean carried a heavier burden of thought than any of them. If he wasn't willing to speak, their trust in him overrode their curiosity.
As curfew approached, the last few dejected members of the Kneazle Society slunk back to their dormitories. The trio walked in silence, punctuated only by a distant caterwaul from Mrs. Norris or the metallic rasp of a suit of armor shifting its weight.
"Cheer up, you two," Justin said, his voice bright with a touch of excitement. "We've just stopped the Dark Lord's return. Again."
"Yes. Again," Hermione echoed.
Her mind was a whirlwind. If one were to count, they had faced Voldemort in some form three times in just over a year. Each encounter had been fraught with lethal danger. It was enough to make her wonder: was Hogwarts truly the safest place in the world? And if so, why were they always coming out of these situations looking so battered?
Voldemort possessing Quirrell, then the diary, then the defiled Diadem... she could still see that horrific, smoke-wreathed skull erupting from the shattered metal. She had no doubt that without Sean's meticulous preparations, that thing would have caused a catastrophe.
"The important thing is that we won," Justin said.
"But what if one day... we lose?" Hermione asked after a long pause, her eyes fixed on Sean.
The young wizard walked on in silence, his shadow stretching long across the stone floor under the moonlight.
"Then we'll lose together," Justin replied with a smile. He lengthened his stride to catch up with Sean.
Hermione stood still for a moment, her lips pressed tight. Then, she too quickened her pace. In that moment, there were no Headmasters or Professors in the castle—only the three of them.
In the heart of winter, surrounded by the warmth of their shared resolve, they reaffirmed their path. Outside, the snow had turned into a cold, driving sleet. But the wizards inside didn't care about the rain; their lives had been lived under a storm for a long time now.
The Christmas holidays had stretched for just over three weeks. During the break, the students had played and rested, while the newly published editions of Green's Notes allowed them to breeze through their holiday assignments with minimal effort. More than one student had privately wished that Mr. Green would just publish the answer key directly to save them the trouble of actually understanding the magic.
The Room of Hope.
Hermione stepped into the room, clutching a set of the newly minted notes. The Daily Prophet had claimed the series was significant enough to be officially adopted by the Ministry's Education Department, and word was the Ministry was actually considering it.
As she crossed the threshold, she found Sean already seated with a book, while Justin stood nearby with a look of pure astonishment.
"Mmm. So this is what the room truly looks like..."
Sean was holding a copy of The Book of Ghosts. He had anticipated that the Room of Hope would change once the Diadem was destroyed, but the sheer scale of the shift was surprising.
"Look at that kitchen!" Hermione gasped, sounding overwhelmed.
The Room of Hope had undergone a massive transformation. While the main study area they had decorated remained untouched, a new door had appeared at the far end. Beyond it lay a professional-grade kitchen, scrubbed to a brilliant, sparkling shine.
The facilities were staggering: self-stirring pots simmered on the hearth; a row of enchanted ovens sat against a wall where the air shimmered with heat; and shelves groaned under the weight of countless fresh ingredients, all decorated with festive ribbons and small lanterns.
On top of a large ice-box sat the morning's spread: a massive mound of whipped cream topped with crystallized violets, and a large joint of beef was already sizzling in one of the ovens.
Beyond the kitchen, a small interior garden had manifested, where winter-hardy magical flora bloomed in thick, vibrant clusters.
Sean intuitively knew this was a space intended for their gatherings. But while Hermione and Justin marveled at the garden, Sean was focused on the source of the food.
"Mr. Owl... did this come from the Hogwarts kitchens?" Sean asked.
At his voice, a delighted Justin and a stunned Hermione finally noticed the portrait of the Owl Gentleman hanging on the interior wall.
"Obviously, I brought it all out from the painting!" the Owl said, puffing out his chest and tilting his head high.
"Oh! Is that really how it works?!" Justin asked, wide-eyed.
"...Utterly hopeless," the Owl muttered to himself. He should have known the boy would take his words literally.
"But won't the house-elves notice?" Hermione asked, her joy quickly turning to academic concern.
"Stupid little wizards—your petty requirements are hardly worth their notice..." The Owl Gentleman gave a huffy snort and turned his beak away.
[End of Chapter 379]
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