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HP: I have a Proficiency Panel - 144
🕑 Added 2025-12-18 16:36:39 +0000 UTCChapter 144: Two Knights
For a long time, Shawn did not see Sir Cadogan. He found himself wandering through the castle again out of habit, something that never existed in his schedule before.
But now, a faint, nagging worry pushed him down corridor after corridor.
“Little Green, please get the knight to shut his mouth!”
Lady Violet appeared inside the painting of a rice field, wearing a white underdress.
“Lady Violet,” Shawn greeted her politely, then listened with growing tension as she described the knight’s “glorious deeds” over the past few days.
Trapped inside a corridor portrait, he would not stop talking. For three days straight, nobody had seen him in person. Only an occasional voice, poetic as a recital, drifted out, mixed with screams.
When Shawn slipped quietly into the dungeons, a senior Slytherin had just finished brewing a potion. The older student threw several nervous looks between Shawn and the depths of the dungeon, then fled as if running for his life.
Shawn spotted Sir Cadogan’s portrait at a glance. The knight was tied to a wooden pole in a chaotic mess of rope by a group of trolls. If the bonfire beneath him had ever caught, Shawn suspected the next time he saw the knight would be inside a troll’s stomach.
Even bruised and swollen, even in mortal danger, Sir Cadogan was still shouting at the top of his lungs:
“Last year, I worshipped wine,
This year, I watch hope more than prejudice.
Last year, I stared into flame.
This year, I am a kebab skewer.
Ah, today I am a lion with head held high,
Lost entirely in the guarding of hope.”
The ladies followed behind Shawn. They tossed chunks of meat to lure the trolls away, then struggled mightily to drag the knight out.
“Sir, lower your voice. Consider it doing me a favour,” Lady Violet ground out through clenched teeth.
“Of course, my lady. Article Four of the chivalric code: Always render aid to a lady,” Sir Cadogan said. He had quieted a little, but he was still half chanting, half singing, as if reciting a spell.
“You stubborn donkey stuck in a mud pit, listen to me.
For now, stop being sad.
Listen to blessings as their petals fall all around you.”
From deeper in the dungeon came the sound of a jar shattering. Sir Cadogan panicked instantly.
“My lady, faster. Faster!”
Seeing him like that, Lady Violet finally snorted with laughter, while the Fat Lady stuffed an apple into his mouth.
She also stuffed an apple into her own mouth and mumbled around it, “Little Green, you are always willing to forgive a fat lady with an apple in her mouth, are you not?”
Shawn answered seriously, “Yes, my lady. I still trust you.”
“Oh, child…” The Fat Lady’s eyes went damp at the corners.
When they finally left the dungeons, Shawn did not ask why Sir Cadogan had been singing for days. He only said, “Sir, you have already helped enough.”
Sir Cadogan, battered and bruised, bared his teeth from the pain but did not speak.
Only after Shawn hurried off towards the Alchemy office did the knight mutter, “What a perfect chance. Two children with noble knightly qualities. Oh, loyalty, and courage…”
Outside, snow and wind fell in a steady curtain. Shawn headed upstairs, not noticing that a thin line had stretched from the dungeons to a warm hand, then spread between Professor Tyra’s fingers and became a sheet of parchment.
Shawn Green.
Among all the first-years, he stood out sharply. Several professors had taken notice of him.
Even that Potions professor…
That was normal. A true master of Alchemy was usually skilled in nearly every branch of magic. That was how they earned the right to glimpse Alchemy’s mysteries.
But that child seemed too exceptional.
Professor Tyra had not seen a student this talented, this quiet, this grounded in a very long time. Staying in the greenhouse for months was not easy, especially in weather as harsh as Scotland’s.
The blandness in her expression gradually faded, yet her confidence remained. Among all branches of magic, only Alchemy held miracles powerful enough to change the world.
But it was still not enough.
…
At the same time, inside the Hope Room.
Everyone sat gathered around the fireplace. Justin’s voice rose and fell with the crackling of the flames and the soft sound of breathing.
“The Hope Room is hidden. Mr Owl will not allow outsiders in, but we cannot burden him with trouble.”
“If someone wants to bring in a new member, everyone has to agree.”
“This room itself is a gift, meant to nurture and safeguard hope. So do you understand? If you want to mess about, do it in the common room.”
Justin rattled off several rules in one breath, and they were generally accepted.
Only now, after listening this far, did Harry and Ron feel that they had truly joined. They listened to every word, terrified of missing anything.
“If a member of the Hope Room gets into trouble, and we can help, then we help. Even if it is wrong, we go wrong together to the end,” Justin said, and everyone grew stirred at once.
Then he continued, “Inside this room, trust your companions.”
Everyone froze.
Justin’s pale blue eyes held warmth in perfect measure, along with quiet resolve.
“We are companions, everyone. When a companion makes a decision, even if they say or do something in this room that nobody understands…”
“All we need to do is support them. That is what companions are for.”
Hearing those words, Harry and Ron felt as if they had been handed an unbelievable gift.
They were companions. In this room, they were trusted completely.
Hermione and Neville went a little blank, while Harry and Ron felt almost purified by it.
“Yes…” Hermione’s instincts twitched with unease. She trusted Shawn and Justin, and perhaps Neville as well. But with Harry and Ron, she did not know what to say.
Yet when she remembered the two of them bursting out from behind a door on Halloween, somehow, she found she could accept it.
“My mother told me this,” Justin murmured, as if speaking to himself. “If trust is not absolute, then it is absolute distrust.”
“The price of deception is high, for either side. Because it means the one who was deceived can no longer trust their companions.”
The words dropped heavily into Harry and Ron’s hearts. The moment they imagined paying that price, they would rather face a troll alone.
The discussion did not last long. By the time Shawn climbed the spiral staircase and looked up at the kindly professor, Hogwarts was drowning in snow.
A soft hiss of snowfall filled the Hope Room, and for those who had faced a troll together, even their breathing seemed to stamp itself with each other’s heartbeat.
Justin took out a well-preserved note, still carrying the warmth of his mother’s words:
“My child.
Trust is a room with countless windows.
Its chambers are like cedar.
A slanting sky is its eternal roof.
Its visitors are the most noble.
And its purpose is this:
Use your small hands to gather heaven.”
