Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 525 526: The Potions Monologue Legacy

Sean caught Professor Lupin's eye for a brief second before quietly taking his

seat beside Professor Snape.

Lupin looked thoughtfully at the Potions Master, only to find Snape still

glaring at him with a gaze that could have curdled milk.

"As for our third appointment," Dumbledore continued, once the applause for the

new teachers had settled, "I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our

Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last term in order to

enjoy more time with his remaining limbs.

"However, I am delighted to announce that his place will be filled by none other

than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching post in addition to

his duties as Gamekeeper."

Down at the long tables, Justin, Hermione, and the others stared at each other

in stunned silence. Then, led by the Gryffindors, they erupted into thunderous

applause.

Sean looked to his left and saw Hagrid, his face a brilliant shade of crimson.

The giant man kept his eyes fixed on his massive hands, a huge, bashful grin

hidden behind his wild, tangled black beard.

"We should've known!" Ron yelled over the noise, hammering his fist on the

table. "Who else would have assigned us a book that tries to rip your fingers

off?"

The applause finally died down as Dumbledore raised his hands again. Hagrid was

currently using the corner of the tablecloth to wipe his eyes.

"Now, one final matter," Dumbledore said.

The students leaned in, waiting. Three new appointments in one night? Lupin, the

mysterious "Manager"; Hagrid, the lovable giant; and Mr. Green...

The younger students were buzzing. Everyone knew Sean Green. He was the author

of the books they used to study. And now he was the Potions Assistant. They

figured that with the "gentle" Mr. Green sitting next to Snape, Potions class

might finally stop being a horror movie.

"I suspect Sean has moved his classroom from the printed page to the dungeon,"

Ron whispered excitedly to Harry.

"At least when we ask a question now, we won't get: 'Is there anything at all

inside that wooden skull of yours, Potter?'" Harry whispered back, doing a

spot-on impression of Snape's sneer.

"Finally," Dumbledore's voice boomed, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon

spectacles. "Rubeus Hagrid has informed me that he requires an assistant to help

him manage the Forbidden Forest and prepare for his curriculum. In his hour of

need, our dear Mr. Green has offered his services.

"Therefore, please join me in welcoming Sean Green as our new Assistant for Care

of Magical Creatures and Guardian of the Forest."

"Wicked!" Fred and George cheered from the Gryffindor table.

The hall broke into a fresh wave of applause. As a few confused first-years

whispered questions, the older students were quick to educate them.

"Green? Not qualified for Magical Creatures?" a seventh-year Ravenclaw scoffed.

"You clearly haven't read his History of Magical Beasts. Even Newt

Scamander—yes, the Newt Scamander—contributed to it! He called Green the most

gifted wizard of the last fifty years. They've been corresponding for years."

"The Great Green's Forest..." Fred whispered to George.

"An all-access pass to the woods," George added with a wink.

"And now—" Dumbledore spread his arms wide. "Let the feast begin!"

Golden plates and goblets were suddenly filled with mountains of food. It was

Sean's first time dining at the High Table. Because of his age, he was

significantly shorter than the other professors; his head barely cleared the

table's edge.

He heard Snape let out a soft "Hmph," and suddenly, Sean's chair began to grow,

lifting him until he was at a comfortable height.

Lupin, who had just reached for his wand to perform a similar charm, paused in

surprise. He looked at Snape, then at Sean. The idea of Severus Snape showing

such a practical, almost fatherly consideration for a student was... well, it

was as magical as anything else in the room.

Sean didn't notice the silent exchange. He was too busy enjoying the view. From

the High Table, he could see the entire hall. He watched Harry and the others

tuck into their meal with starving enthusiasm.

As the last scraps of pumpkin tart vanished and Dumbledore dismissed the school

for bed, the group rushed toward the front of the hall.

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed.

"All thanks to you lot," Hagrid grumbled happily, wiping a greasy cheek with a

napkin. "Can't believe it... Dumbledore's a great man... Professor Kettleburn

said he'd had enough of being bitten, and Dumbledore came straight to me. It's

what I've always wanted..."

The giant buried his face in his napkin, overcome with emotion.

The group turned to Sean, who was still perched on his high chair. He gave the

wood a sharp, wandless tap, and the chair magically sank back to its original

height.

"That was..." Harry blinked.

"Just a bit of Transfiguration," Sean said, stepping down.

It was a classic Ravenclaw trick—a wandless version of "dead-to-dead" matter

transformation. It was technically a "low-level" Ancient Magic, but the system

pinged in Sean's mind, granting him ten points toward his Mastery of

Transfiguration.

"Nothing 'simple' about that," Ron muttered, his jaw still hanging open.

The Next Morning.

Sean prepared for his first Potions class. This time, he wasn't carrying a

cauldron as a student; he was carrying a ledger as the Assistant.

The dungeon classroom was, as always, colder and gloomier than the rest of the

castle. Glass jars filled with pickled animal parts lined the walls, making the

arriving first-years shiver.

Professor Snape was already standing at the front, the pale morning light

catching the sharp lines of his face through the mist. His eyes were dark and

hollow—like the entrance to two lightless tunnels.

The new Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs looked terrified until they saw the older

Ravenclaw student standing beside the desk.

"I heard the Potions Master is the most terrifying man at Hogwarts," one

Ravenclaw girl whispered to her friend.

"May Mr. Green protect us," the friend whispered back, looking at Sean with

pleading eyes.

Sean offered them a small, slightly apologetic smile. He looked a bit out of

place, but as he prepared to speak, he let out a soft sigh.

"Mr. Green sighed!" the girl gasped. "We're doomed. Even he's worried."

"Speak," Snape commanded, glancing at the trembling first-years.

Sean stepped forward. His voice was barely higher than a whisper, yet it carried

to every corner of the room. It was calm, rhythmic, and strangely intimidating.

"You are here to learn the precise science and subtle art of potion-making,"

Sean began.

The Ravenclaws leaned in, hanging on every word.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe

this is magic. I... and Professor Snape... do not expect you to really

understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering

fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching

the mind, ensnaring the senses...

"We can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in

death—but only if you aren't the collective bunch of dunderheads we usually have

to teach."

Silence. Absolute, pin-drop silence.

Sean hadn't expected it, but he had just delivered the "Inheritance"—the

legendary Snape introductory speech. He wondered if this monologue was a

tradition passed down from Master to Apprentice in the Potions world.

For the rest of the hour, the class was a high-stress ordeal for the freshmen.

Had it not been for Sean moving between the desks, offering quiet corrections

and stabilizing their brews, they were convinced they wouldn't have survived.

As they filed out of the dungeon, Sean could hear their heavy sighs of relief.

"Is Snape the scariest person you've ever met?" one boy asked.

His friend nodded frantically. "Is Mr. Green the kindest?"

"Definitely."

Unfortunately, Snape happened to be walking past them at that exact moment. The

boys turned deathly pale. Snape didn't say a word; he simply let out a cold

"Hmph" and swept past them, his robes billowing.

Lunch in the Great Hall was its usual noisy affair. Harry was busy glaring at

Draco Malfoy, who was holding court at the Slytherin table.

Whenever Harry looked over, Malfoy would pretend to faint, falling back into

Crabbe's arms while the Slytherins roared with laughter.

"Ignore him," Hermione said, following Harry to the table. "He's not worth it."

"Hey, Potter!" Pansy Parkinson shrieked. "Watch out! The Dementors are coming!

Oooooooh!"

Sean sat at the long table and pulled out his schedule. Suddenly, the Weasley

twins appeared on either side of him.

"Oh Great Green, what are you studying today?" George asked. He glanced over at

Malfoy. "That little git... he wasn't so cocky when the Dementor came on the

train. He nearly dove under the seats, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," Fred added with a look of pure disdain.

"I wasn't too happy myself," George admitted. "Dementors are foul things."

"Freezes your very soul, doesn't it?"

"But you lot didn't faint, did you?" Harry asked, sitting down and looking up at

the twins.

"Forget it, Harry," George said encouragingly. "Dad had to go to Azkaban on

business once, remember Fred? He said it was the most awful place he'd ever

been. Came back shaking like a leaf. Dementors suck the joy right out of the

air. Most of the prisoners go mad in the end."

As Sean continued to refine his notes, the table filled up. He realized his time

was becoming an increasingly rare commodity. He needed to brew an Expert-level

Draught of Peace and push his Fiendfyre Mastery over the finish line.

Beside him, Hermione was pouring over her own new schedule.

"Oh, this is brilliant, Sean! Look, we have so many new classes starting today,"

she said happily.

"Hermione," Ron said, looking over her shoulder with a deep frown. "They've

messed up your schedule. Look—they've got you down for ten classes a day. There

isn't enough time."

"I'll manage. I've settled it with Professor McGonagall," Hermione said. "And so

has Sean."

"I don't know about Sean, but look at this," Ron pointed to the parchment. "Nine

o'clock, Divination. Below that, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And—" Ron

squinted, "Arithmancy, nine o'clock! I know you're smart, Hermione, but no one's

that smart. How can you be in three classrooms at once?"

"Don't be silly," Hermione said shortly. "I'm obviously not in three places at

once."

"Then how—"

"Pass the marmalade," Hermione commanded.

"But—"

"Honestly, Ron, what does it matter to you if my schedule is a bit full?"

Hermione snapped. "I told you: Sean and I have it under control."

Ron slumped back, looking wounded and utterly confused.

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