Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 521 522: The New Professor

Outside the compartment, students laughed and chased one another down the narrow

corridors. Inside, the young wizards talked excitedly about their upcoming trips

to Hogsmeade, casting occasional, curious glances at their sleeping professor.

Sean took the opportunity to observe Lupin. The man looked even more gaunt than

he had at the bookshop. It made sense; he had spent the last forty-eight hours

straight interviewing potential successors for the manager position at Green's

Bookshop.

Despite his exhaustion, his appearance had improved slightly. Though he still

wore his patched robes, they were clean and pressed. He had brought the same

battered suitcase Sean had seen before. Sean knew his own Transfiguration charms

didn't last forever, which meant Lupin had been meticulously renewing the

"Vine-Stiffening Hex" himself to keep the case from falling apart.

Lupin was a man who remembered every ounce of kindness shown to him. Perhaps it

was because he had received so little of it over the years—much like a certain

young wizard sitting across from him.

As the train rattled along, Sean gradually immersed himself in the ocean of

magical history. He held the unfinished manuscript of The Wizarding Magical

Annals in his lap, sitting perfectly still. Only an occasional flick of his

finger caused the pages to turn of their own accord.

At one o'clock, the plump witch with the food trolley appeared at the door.

"Do you think we should wake him?" Ron asked, nodding toward Professor Lupin. He

looked a bit conflicted. "He looks like he could use a bite to eat."

Hermione leaned forward cautiously. "Er—Professor?" she whispered. "Excuse

me—Professor?"

He didn't stir.

"Justin, you have a go—he's your..." Hermione turned to Justin.

"He's exhausted, Hermione," Justin said with a helpless shrug. "It took him two

days and a night of high-pressure interviews to find a wizard qualified enough

to run the shop."

"Don't you worry, dear," the trolley witch said, handing a massive stack of

Cauldron Cakes to Justin. "If he wakes up feeling peaky, I'll be up front with

the driver."

"I suppose he is just sleeping?" Ron whispered after the witch slid the door

shut. "I mean—he hasn't kicked the bucket, has he?"

"He's still breathing, Ron," Hermione said softly, taking a Cauldron Cake from

Justin.

Professor Lupin might not have been the most engaging travel companion, but

having an adult in the room felt oddly reassuring. By mid-afternoon, the rain

began to fall in earnest, blurring the rolling hills outside into a smudge of

watery grey.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor. Three familiar,

unwelcome faces appeared at the glass door.

Draco Malfoy stood in the center, flanked by his two "gorillas," Vincent Crabbe

and Gregory Goyle. Malfoy had the same pale, pointed face and permanent sneer

that usually signaled trouble. He was the Slytherin Seeker, a rival to Harry in

more ways than one.

Of course, neither of them had ever managed to beat the Ravenclaw Seeker—Sean.

It was a running joke at Hogwarts: if you accidentally started winning against

Ravenclaw, the blue-and-bronze house would simply "summon their core," and the

game was over. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Captain, often felt a sense of

profound powerlessness regarding the matter. How do you beat a Seeker who

seemingly never trains yet moves like lightning the moment he touches a broom?

"Well, look who it is," Malfoy drawled, sliding the door open. "Potty and the

Weasel-bee."

Crabbe and Goyle let out low, troll-like chuckles.

"Wait—"

Malfoy suddenly raised a hand, cutting his cronies off mid-laugh. His eyes

darted toward the corner of the compartment.

There sat Sean, his dark hair messy, his eyes fixed intently on his book. At the

sound of the intrusion, Sean's brow knit into a faint, irritated frown.

"Shut up," Malfoy hissed at his two followers, his voice dropping an octave.

Crabbe and Goyle instantly went silent. No wizard who had attended the Dueling

Club the previous year was stupid enough to underestimate Sean Green while he

was reading. If you were lucky, he'd ignore you. If you weren't, you'd find

yourself flat on your back before you could draw your wand.

"I heard your father finally came into some gold this summer, Weasley," Malfoy

whispered, though the lack of volume robbed the insult of its usual bite. "Did

your mother die of shock?"

Even though Malfoy was practically whispering, Ron bolted upright, knocking

Crookshanks's basket to the floor with a loud thud.

Lupin let out a soft snort in his sleep.

"Who's that?" Malfoy asked, instinctively taking a half-step back into the

corridor.

"A new teacher," Harry said, standing up to keep a hand on Ron's arm. "What were

you saying, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's grey eyes narrowed. He wasn't a total fool. He wasn't going to start a

brawl under the nose of a professor—and more importantly, he wasn't going to

risk a fight in front of Sean. To interrupt Sean Green's study time was

considered a death wish among the student body.

"Let's go," Malfoy muttered to his cronies, trying to look as though he had

planned to leave anyway.

The three of them vanished. Harry and Ron sat back down, Ron still flexing his

knuckles.

"I'm not taking his rubbish this term," Ron growled. "I mean it. If he makes one

more crack about my family, I'm going to grab him by the—"

Ron made a violent, neck-wringing gesture in the air.

"Ron, you're a wizard. Use a spell," Hermione reminded him dryly.

"Oh!" Ron's eyes lit up. He had spent his second year at Hogwarts actually

applying himself for once. "Right! I know eight different jinxes now. Watch,

I'll—"

Hermione cut him off with a sharp look, pointing to the man in the corner.

Professor Lupin had finally opened his eyes.

"Hello there," Lupin said, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. his voice was raspy but

warm. "It sounds like things were getting a bit lively."

"Professor Lupin," Hermione said, her posture straightening.

"Hello, Miss Granger," Lupin smiled.

Hermione blinked in shock. "How do you—?"

They had seen the name on his case, but how did he know hers?

Lupin gestured to the book in her lap. Her name and year were neatly inscribed

on the inside cover in her own precise handwriting.

"Oh..." Hermione flushed a bright pink.

"A third-year student," Lupin noted. Then he turned his gaze to the rest of the

group. "Tell me... do any of you happen to know a wizard by the name of Green?"

"Why are you looking for him?" Ron asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and

protective suspicion.

"It seems he's quite famous even at Hogwarts," Lupin chuckled. "As for why...

would 'demanding my back wages' suffice? I've been looking forward to meeting

him in person to... negotiate."

Hermione and Harry looked skeptical, but Ron was hooked. "He's right—"

Before Ron could finish, the train lurched. The rain was drumming against the

glass now, turning the world into a watery, lightless smudge as the sky grew

dark.

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