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HP: I have a Proficiency Panel - 107
🕑 Added 2025-11-20 07:40:02 +0000 UTCChapter 107: Jumper
Was buying a jumper that difficult?
When the weather turned cold, Shawn had already asked the Weasley twins for help. They had promised to sneak off to Hogsmeade today and buy him some warm clothes: a scarf, a jumper, a shirt, and boots.
He had not expected them to fail right at the start. They had been caught the moment they tried to leave the castle.
In a corridor corner at the time:
"A jumper – of course – dead simple!" Fred said, winking.
"Since you came to us—" George shot Fred a meaningful look.
"You have to know our rates!" Fred caught on at once.
"Five Sickles a piece!" George shouted, then watched Shawn carefully out of the corner of his eye.
"Deal," Shawn said firmly.
"Wait, no, no, no – six Sickles!" George backpedalled furiously.
"Deal." Shawn shook the older Weasley's hand.
George yanked it away as if shocked. "Seven!"
"Deal!"
"Eight. No, nine – Merlin's beard!" George sagged.
"Three Galleons. Scarf, jumper, shirt, gloves, boots – the lot," Fred said, naming a flat price.
"We are only making one Sickle off you. Not a Knut more, I swear."
"I trust you," Shawn said.
"Two Galleons. Please stop talking," George said weakly.
"I have never met a student like you. Those other kids…"
"They think we are charging them ten Galleons!" Fred finished.
"When really they are only buying ten Knuts' worth," George said, eyeing Shawn oddly.
"Let's go before we regret this…"
Shawn nodded.
A few steps later, Fred slung an arm around George's shoulders and whispered, "How much are we making?"
"Two Sickles."
George winked.
The two exchanged a grin and high‑fived.
But just as they turned to leave, a sharp cat's yowl rang out.
The two figures, who had only just entered the secret passage, bolted.
"Nine at night – why is Mrs Norris here, Fred?" George yelled.
"How should I know?" Fred lobbed a Decoy Detonator filled with Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet‑Start, No‑Heat Fireworks powder, but it was no use. Mrs Norris was already on their tail.
Shawn, waiting in the corridor for Mrs Norris to return, left somewhat disappointed after a while.
In any case, when Shawn saw the twins again, it was in the dungeons, watching them serve detention.
For five whole days they had not managed to escape Professor Snape's clutches, despite swearing they would slip out for an hour to buy Shawn's winter clothes.
Today, finally, after Snape had set them to scrubbing toilets, their detention ended. According to Fred, the only reason they got out early was because they had ratted out a few Gryffindors.
"Oh, them. Though they are our brothers in arms—" George said wistfully.
"You paid us extra!" Fred added with a wink.
It fit Shawn's stereotype of the twins perfectly. For a moment he wondered if they would sell him out if someone else paid them.
In fact—
"Tell me. Why did you sneak out?" Professor Snape's voice was as cutting as the winter wind. Fred, polishing a window, and George, sweeping the floor, both flinched.
"We were only testing a passageway," Fred said, steeling himself.
"A passage that is supposedly been abandoned for ages," George added solemnly.
Snape said nothing. He simply smiled without warmth and threatened, "If I set you to cleaning the lavatories for two weeks…"
"Buying a jumper, Professor!" George wailed.
"We needed a jumper, Professor," Fred said, trying to look earnest.
To their surprise, Snape only watched them silently for a moment, then told them to get out of the dungeons.
In the Great Hall at Hogwarts,
The enchanted ceiling showed a clear, pale blue, with thin clouds drifting lazily across it. The air smelled of warm toast mixed with morning dampness.
Suddenly, a flapping sound grew louder, like heavy rain drumming on windows.
Hundreds of owls surged through the high windows like a tide. Brown, grey and white wings tangled together in a blur. The students could barely tell them apart until the owls swooped down to their tables.
Somewhere, a Howler's shrill shriek erupted. The four seated together – Shawn, Hermione, Neville and Justin – reflexively covered their ears, used to it by now.
Justin gazed out through the stained glass. The downpour had stopped, but the trees had not been so lucky. At least half their leaves had fallen.
A silver‑grey owl landed proudly in front of Justin, carrying a thick, heavy parcel.
He glanced cautiously at Shawn, who was still attacking an apple tart. Justin let out a deep breath of relief.
Inside the parcel was a thick jumper and gloves, along with a photograph of four young students. The students in the picture were mostly shivering with cold, their expressions varied, but strangely, all of them were looking at the wizard in the centre.
His green eyes held a faint warmth in the firelight.
On the back of the photograph was a line of writing:
Dearest Finch‑Fletchley,
I have heard many stories. I think his eyes must be smaller than the lake.
I think such eyes will not weep.
Perhaps standing before him is like standing by the lake, with fine mist stretching from earth to sky.
Cherish your friends always.
Ever proud of you, Lilianna
Justin silently tucked the letter away and left the Great Hall while Shawn seemed not to notice.
At the same time, a spotted owl landed beside Hermione. The young witch also glanced at Shawn, then left the Hall with a light step.
Shawn quietly pulled his gaze away from the delicious food. Why did it feel like Justin and Hermione had been acting strangely lately?
In the classroom,
The fireplace roared fiercely. Shawn entered carrying The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 and a slim notebook belonging to Professor Flitwick.
As he habitually moved closer to the hearth, a gust of cold wind launched one final attack. Shawn took a large step forward and it missed.
On his usual seat, a letter edged in gold lay quietly.
Below the letter was a parcel.
Shawn paused, then opened the envelope.
I cannot believe it is already autumn.
The trees are beginning to wither.
The good thing about autumn is that you can wear warm, lovely jumpers.
Shawn, stay a little warmer.
Ever your faithful friend, Justin Finch‑Fletchley
Outside the window, an owl flew past, carrying away the last trace of autumn's chill.
