Hogwarts Study Panel

Chapter 144: Two Knights

For a long time, Sheen did not see Sir Cadogan. Once again, he habitually wandered around the castle for a while, something that was never part of his schedule.

But now, a vague sense of unease made him walk down several more corridors.

"Young Green, tell the Jazz to shut him up!"

At this moment, Madame Violet, wearing a white underskirt, appears in the rice paddy painting.

"Mrs. Violet."

Sheehan greeted them politely, then listened with some nervousness as Lady Violet recounted the knight's glorious deeds over the past few days.

He was locked inside a painting in the corridor, constantly chattering away. For three days straight, no one saw him; only his occasional poetic voice, accompanied by screams, could be heard.

When Sheen quietly entered the cellar, an older Slytherin had just finished brewing a potion. He nervously glanced at Sheen and the depths of the cellar a few more times before fleeing from the cellar as if his life depended on it.

Sheen spotted Sir Cadogan's portrait immediately. He was haphazardly bound to a wooden stick by a bunch of trolls. If the fire below hadn't been so difficult to light, Sheen suspected that the next time he saw the Sir would be inside a troll's belly.

Even with a bruised and battered face, and in a dangerous situation, Jazz continued to shout loudly:
Last year, I revered fine wine.
This year, I look to hope over prejudice;

Last year, I gazed at the flames.

This year, I'm a kebab vendor...

Ah—now, I am a lion, head held high, gazing into the distance.

Completely lost in the embrace of hope.

The ladies followed behind Sheen, throwing chunks of meat to lure the troll away before finally managing to drag the knight away with great effort.
"Jazz, keep your voice down! Consider it a favor!"

"Mrs. Violet said through gritted teeth."

"Of course, my lady. The fourth rule of chivalry: Always offer assistance to a lady."

Sir Cadogan's voice was a little softer at this point, but he was still singing as if chanting a spell:
"That stubborn donkey stuck in the mud, listen to me:"

For now, stop being sad.

Listen to the blessings, their petals falling around you.

Just then, the sound of a jar shattering came from deep within the cellar, and Jazz panicked immediately:
"Madam, hurry! Hurry!"

Seeing his flustered state, Mrs. Violet burst out laughing, while the fat lady stuffed an apple into his mouth.

He then stuffed an apple into his mouth and mumbled something like:

"Little Green, you're always willing to forgive a fat woman who's biting into an apple, aren't you?"

Sheen said seriously:

"Yes, madam, I still trust you."

"Oh—child—"

The plump lady's eyes welled up with tears.

After they left the cellar, Sheen didn't ask why the jazz had been singing for several days in a row; he simply said:

"Sir, you've been a great help."

Jazz was bruised and swollen, wincing in pain but not uttering a word.

Sheen only muttered this after he rushed to the alchemy office:
"—What a wonderful opportunity, two children with the noble qualities of knights—oh, loyalty, and courage—"

Snow was falling outside. Sheen was about to go upstairs when he didn't notice a thin line extending from the cellar to his warm palm and spreading out like parchment between Professor Terra's fingers.

Sheehan Green.

He was an exceptionally outstanding student among all the first-year students and was highly regarded by several professors.

Even the Potions professor...

This is normal; an alchemy master is always proficient in almost all branches of magic, which is how he came to know the mysterious art of alchemy.

But that boy, he seemed too outstanding. Professor Tara hadn't seen such a talented yet unassuming and pragmatic child in a long time—it's not easy to stay in a greenhouse for months on end, especially in the harsh weather of Scotland.

Her calm expression gradually faded, but she remained very confident. Even among all the branches of magic, only alchemy was a miracle capable of changing the world.

But that's still not enough...

……

At the same time, there was the Hope Hut.

A group of people were gathered around the fireplace, Justin's voice mingling with the crackling of the fire and his soft breathing.

"Hopefully the cabin will be a secluded place, and although Mr. Owl won't allow anyone else in, we can't cause it any trouble."

If someone wants to introduce members to join, everyone needs to agree;

This room itself is a gift, a gift specifically for nurturing and storing hope, so understand? If you want to play around, you'll have to go to the common room…”

Justin rattled off several requests, which were generally well-received.

As the conversation progressed, Harry and Ron finally felt truly involved, listening intently to every word and not daring to miss a single detail.

"If any member of the Hope Hut gets into trouble, please lend a hand if you can. Even if it's wrong, we'll be wrong together."

Justin's words stirred everyone up, and he continued,
"Inside the cabin, please trust your companions."

Everyone was stunned when they heard this.

Thus, his light blue eyes revealed just the right amount of gentleness and determination.

"We are partners, all of us. When a partner makes a decision, no matter what he says or does in the cabin that no one else understands—"

All we need to do is offer our support; that's the role of a partner.

When Harry and Ron said those words, they felt as if they had been given an immense blessing.

They were partners—good heavens, they were completely trusted in this house.

Hermione and Neville were both stunned, while Harry and Ron felt as if they had been elevated.

"Yes..."

Hermione felt instinctively uneasy. She trusted Sheehan and Justin, and perhaps Neville as well, but she didn't know what to say to Harry and Ron, who were left.

But when she thought of the two people who had jumped out of the door on Halloween Eve, she suddenly seemed to be able to accept it.

“My mother told me: ‘If trust is not absolute, then it is absolutely not trust. The cost of deception is high, for both sides, because it means that the deceived party can no longer trust their partner.’”

Justin seemed to be muttering to himself.

His words weighed heavily on Harry and Ron's hearts; the thought of paying such a price made them prefer to face the troll themselves.

The conversation didn't last long, because when Sheen walked up the spiral staircase and looked at the kind professor, Hogwarts was being submerged in snowflakes, the rustling sound filling Hope Hut, making the breaths of those who had faced the trolls together echo with each other's heartbeats.

Justin took out a well-preserved slip of paper with his mother's still-warm words on it:

My child.

Trust is a house with countless windows.

Its rooms are like cedar trees.

The sloping sky is its eternal roof.

Its visitors are the most noble.

Its uses are as follows:

Use your little hands—to collect heaven.

(End of this chapter)