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HP: I have a Proficiency Panel - 141
🕑 Added 2025-12-18 16:36:20 +0000 UTCChapter 141: The Plan
Professor Snape was the complete opposite of Professor McGonagall. When Shawn got a step wrong, Professor McGonagall would patiently guide him towards the correct sequence until he produced a proper piece of Transfiguration. Professor Snape, on the other hand, would wear a cold sneer, make Shawn say the wrong answer out loud, then bury the correct one beneath a flood of mockery.
Shawn had expected it. He quickly wrote down the real answer hidden inside the insults, and Professor Snape finally stopped.
The cauldron’s fire died down. Shawn’s scarf, like a soldier that actually did its job, kept out the freezing wind so he could focus on the parchment.
Snape stared icily at him, and at the parchment covered in the fusion enlightenment method.
A piece of knowledge beyond price, knowledge that would make any Potioneer’s heart race.
Snape had never imagined someone could be foolish enough to share such a thing. But now, he had met exactly that sort of fool.
Something indescribable, unsettling, and repulsive churned behind his expressionless face.
“You should not tell anyone… Shawn Green…” he hissed. “Still. Not bad. A fairly excellent method.”
Shawn nearly thought he had misheard. Exhausted, he muttered without thinking, “What did you say… Professor?”
“Fairly…” Snape’s voice snapped. “Get out. Out. Now. Immediately. Shawn Green, take your idiotic tools and get out!”
Snape suddenly erupted. Shawn was practically thrown out of the dungeon, and then ten Galleons were tossed after him, landing neatly in his hands.
After steadying himself in the corridor, Shawn walked a little farther away. Next time, he would not speak when he was tired.
“I knew you were a warrior,” came booming laughter from the corridor. Sir Cadogan clutched his stomach, howling. “Oh, little Green, I must tell everyone about this…”
He laughed until tears ran down his face, completely failing to notice that Shawn had already reached the end of the passage.
“Sir Cadogan, he…” Shawn asked the Fat Lady, who had drifted closer. Sometimes the knight really was a little too fearless.
Just look at his glorious record: charging Headmaster Black on a pony and knocking him over, punching and kicking Headmaster Black, and openly mocking Professor Snape right at the dungeon door.
Listening to the screams coming from the dungeon entrance, Shawn’s gaze stayed fixed there for a long time.
“Oh… my foolish knight. Let us hope he knows to run farther away in heaven,” the Fat Lady said, wiping at her eyes. With her head lowered and one hand covering her face, she kept sneaking glances at Shawn whenever he was not looking.
Shawn went still. He had not expected the knight to be in real trouble.
“Fat Lady, you have frightened little Green,” Lady Violet said softly, stepping out from another portrait carrying a plate of fruit.
Then Shawn noticed the Fat Lady was not actually crying at all. She had only smeared plain water on her face.
Without a word, Shawn walked away.
“All right, are you satisfied now?” Lady Violet said crossly, shoving an apple into the Fat Lady’s mouth. “You fat woman. Let us hope the apple can plug that mouth of yours.”
…
In the Great Hall, Hermione was arguing with Harry and the others about coming in.
“I noticed something about Professor Snape earlier,” Harry said to Hermione.
“On Halloween, he tried to get past that three-headed dog—and it bit him.”
Harry lowered his voice and rushed on before Hermione could interrupt.
“We thought he was trying to steal whatever it was guarding. The dog—no, Fluffy. He belongs to Hagrid.”
“Hagrid bought him off a Greek chappie he met in a pub last year, and he lent Fluffy to Dumbledore to guard something really valuable.”
“Yes, Hermione, don’t you get it?” Ron added, bristling with indignation. “During the Quidditch match, he was jinxing the broom. He wanted Harry to fall to his death!
“That was not Professor Snape. The one casting the jinx was not him!” Hermione shot back.
“Honestly, Hermione, you always think every teacher is a saint,” Ron could not help saying.
“If you do not believe it, go ask Shawn!” Hermione stamped her foot in anger.
The three of them split up at that.
“Of course, we can ask Shawn. Because Shawn will definitely agree with her. Shawn knows her better than we do…” Ron sagged for a moment, then said irritably.
Harry did not know whether Ron was right. He only felt even more anxious about the plan that came next.
Not far from Gryffindor’s table was a long table piled highest with pudding.
As Shawn ate, Justin and Hermione watched Harry and Ron whispering to each other.
“What do you think, will Shawn agree?” Hermione asked worriedly. “Justin, I mean. Aside from them being a bit thick.”
Even though Hermione usually found Harry and Ron unbearable, once Justin told her in advance why their behaviour had turned odd, she still chose to accept them.
Think about it. Harry carried a famous name, yet he had none of the ability that should come with it. Someone at Hogwarts wanted to kill him, and he had even accused the wrong person.
That person was like a viper. Yes, a viper hiding in the dark, ready to swallow Harry whole, that “poor orphan”.
And Harry couldn’t even manage simple spells. All day long, he only cared about the Quidditch pitch, never taking his studies seriously.
“Shawn?” Justin smiled gently.
Together, they looked at Shawn, who was flipping through a notebook that burst into little fireworks every time he turned the page. The Weasleys had left him quite a few “surprises.”
“What do you think, Hermione?” Justin said. “More importantly, how long do you think it will take those two to actually ask?”
“Two idiots,” Hermione sighed, unable to hold it in.
“Don’t rush them, Hermione. Give them a bit more time. Not everyone is born standing in the sunlight,” Justin said, smiling as he tried to comfort her. But his gaze dipped slightly, and it did not land on Harry and Ron at all.
Thanks to his mother’s teaching, Justin had always understood people more easily than most. Harry was an orphan, but his foster family had at least taken responsibility for him, so he did not have to worry about freezing or falling ill. Ron seemed to have plenty of brothers. His insecurity came from having outstanding older siblings and friends, but he was unquestionably happy. His mother said money and happiness were not always tied together.
Harry might be thin, but he had never once exhausted himself in Charms. Ron was certainly poor, but the parcels the Weasleys sent him were no fewer than anyone else’s.
As the fire roared in the hearth, a faint flame still flickered in Justin’s eyes. Outside the windows, a brutal snowstorm raged, as if it were covering the coarse, cold earth. His voice blurred naturally into the wind and snow.
“Hermione, you know… unlike them, some people are too brave and too quiet. We all forget the pain they have had to endure.”
