The First Lucky Break
It was a crisp autumn morning, and the usual hum of activity in the research firm's laboratory was accompanied by the rustle of parchment and the faint tap of quills on desks. Seamus Finnigan, however, was too absorbed in his latest magical project to notice the passing of time or the hustle around him. He had decided that, despite the strict nature of his research firm, there was always room for a little creative experimentation. After all, what was magic if not a field of endless possibility?
Today, his ambition had led him to the Potions Lab, a space that had long been reserved for more controlled and professional work. But Seamus, with his unrelenting curiosity, had managed to find a loophole. While the lab was typically used for developing more practical potion recipes for the firm's research clients, Seamus had been allowed to tinker a bit as long as he didn’t cross any dangerous lines. He had been working on a variation of a levitation spell, one that he thought could be integrated into the company’s next project: an innovative new charm for weightless packaging materials.
The charm, as laid out in the theoretical research, was simple: enhance the levitation spell so that objects could be made to float more steadily, without the usual fluctuations in height or stability. Seamus, however, had other ideas. He’d decided to go one step further. Instead of following the exact guidelines, Seamus had thought, why not push the limits a bit? If he could make it work, it could revolutionize the whole concept of levitation spells in commercial applications.
As Hermione would have likely warned him, Seamus rarely followed the rules to the letter. After all, why not add a pinch of moonstone for good measure? And perhaps a dash of essence of focus, to make sure the charm was as smooth and flawless as possible. These ingredients, he thought, would ensure the charm wasn’t just functional, but stunning.
He carefully brewed the potion, swirling the ingredients together as he muttered the incantations in the precise sequence he thought would give him the best results. For a moment, nothing happened. The potion simmered away in the cauldron, as it was supposed to. But then, a sudden burst of magical energy surged from the mixture.
Seamus froze.
For a split second, the lab felt alive with magic—a crackle of energy filled the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of a spell gone awry. The cauldron rattled on its stand, and the shelves full of potion ingredients seemed to tremble as though anticipating something terrible.
"Oh no," Seamus whispered, eyes widening with the recognition that something was terribly wrong. His heart raced. The potion had amplified the levitation charm far beyond what he had expected. Objects in the room began to lift off their shelves. First, a few glass beakers hovered in the air, gently spinning. Seamus watched, mesmerized for a second, thinking it was some kind of spell-induced dance. But then, the true scope of the disaster revealed itself.
The floorboards creaked ominously underfoot. The shelves trembled, their contents starting to levitate at odd angles, as if being controlled by an unseen force. A stack of parchment flew off a nearby desk, swirling in a tornado of paper before falling back down gently onto the floor. Seamus stood frozen in place as flasks filled with different colored liquids began to rise off the shelves and drift erratically around the room. This wasn’t just a bit of magical mess—it was full-blown chaos.
To make matters worse, the cauldron, which had been brewing the potion, suddenly hovered directly above his head. It was the size of a small kettle, and the liquid inside had begun to bubble ominously, changing color to a vibrant, fluorescent green. If that cauldron tipped over...
“Okay, okay. Think,” Seamus muttered, wiping his forehead as the room continued to shake. His eyes darted to the walls, searching for a quick exit or a way to control the chaos, but nothing seemed to be within reach. And there was no Hermione to help him this time.
Normally, he would have called on her for guidance, knowing that her steady, logical thinking and unparalleled magical skill would be just what he needed to undo this disaster. But Hermione was in the library, buried in her research, completely unaware that Seamus was on the brink of another magical catastrophe.
Seamus took a deep breath. It was time to act.
He had seen Hermione handle dozens of similar situations—her cool-headed, rational approach to spells and magical mishaps. You can do this, Seamus, he thought to himself. Just stay calm, and use what you’ve learned. He turned his focus back to the chaotic whirl of objects.
The cauldron, still hovering dangerously above him, was edging closer. Seamus could feel the heat radiating from it. The magical energy swirling around the room had intensified so much that it was almost tangible. He had only one shot at this.
Seamus grabbed his wand and held it out with both hands, feeling the familiar weight of it in his grip. He muttered the incantation to reverse the levitation charm—something simple, but it had to be done with precision. His first attempt was shaky. His words were too rushed, too panicked, and the floating objects continued their erratic dance.
“No, no, no,” Seamus whispered to himself. “You’ve got this.”
He took another deep breath, steadied his hand, and tried again. This time, his words were steady, confident, as if he had finally found his center.
“Alohomora Levitatem!”
The magical energy in the room paused, holding its breath as the words left Seamus’s lips. For a moment, nothing happened. Seamus’s heart skipped a beat, but just as panic was about to set in, the room seemed to sigh.
The floating cauldron descended slowly to the table with a soft thud, and the beakers, jars, and flasks all followed suit, gently returning to their shelves. The magical energy that had filled the room now ebbed away, leaving behind only a strange, peaceful silence.
Seamus blinked in disbelief. The objects had returned to their proper places, the air was calm, and there were no signs of disaster—nothing had been broken, and no one had been hurt. He had done it. He had actually managed to fix it on his own.
He stood in the middle of the now-quiet lab, panting slightly, his body feeling like it had just run a marathon. His heart was still racing, but there was an undeniable sense of accomplishment, even in the midst of the chaos. He hadn’t just avoided disaster—he had actively solved it. Alone. Without Hermione, without backup.
Seamus ran a hand through his tousled hair, his chest still heaving with adrenaline as he let out a shaky laugh. “I can’t believe I actually did it…” His voice was a mixture of awe and disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite believe the outcome of his chaotic afternoon.
Just as he was standing there, half-dazed by the narrow escape he had pulled off, the door to the lab creaked open. Hermione entered, her eyes scanning the room in surprise. Her gaze immediately fell on Seamus, who was standing in the middle of the room, looking disheveled but, to her astonishment, remarkably intact. There was a moment of stillness before her expression quickly shifted to one of concern, her sharp eyes darting across the room, expecting to find some signs of magical destruction.
“Seamus?” Hermione’s voice was laced with caution. “What happened here?” She took another step inside, her gaze flicking nervously to the shelves, half-expecting them to collapse at any moment. But everything seemed unnervingly calm. The chaos she had anticipated was nowhere to be found.
Seamus grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to come up with an explanation that sounded more plausible than the truth. “Well… you could say I got myself into a bit of a mess. You know, the usual,” he said, offering her a lopsided smile. “But don’t worry—everything’s fine now.”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed, her suspicions piqued. She studied him closely, taking in his disheveled appearance and the odd, almost guilty gleam in his eyes. “Really? You? On your own?” Her tone was slightly skeptical now, but she didn’t press him immediately. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, a quiet challenge in her voice. “What did you do, Seamus?”
Seamus chuckled again, still incredulous at his own success. “I, uh… well, I might’ve overdone the charm a little,” he confessed, his voice softening with the weight of his admission. “But somehow, I managed to fix it without any help. Believe it or not, Hermione, I actually… did it.”
Hermione’s lips parted in surprise, her mind racing to process the implications of his words. For a moment, she stood still, blinking at him in disbelief. The idea that Seamus Finnigan—Seamus, who so often found himself in the most absurd magical mishaps—had successfully solved the problem on his own was, to put it mildly, shocking. She wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or frustrated.
“You fixed it yourself?” she asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and cautious admiration. She took another step forward, crossing her arms as she regarded him. “Just like that?”
Seamus’s grin widened, a sense of pride blooming across his face. “Yep, that’s right. No Hermione Granger to the rescue this time,” he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. “All me.”
Hermione stood there, momentarily speechless, before she let out a small laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be. Seamus Finnigan, master of levitation charms,” she said, unable to suppress a smile at the ridiculousness of it all. “I’m impressed. But next time, maybe don’t try to rewrite the rules of magic without a bit more research, yeah?”
Seamus waved his hand dismissively, his grin turning into a mischievous smile. “Nah, I think I’ve got it covered now,” he said with a confident wink. “You see, that’s the thing, Hermione,” he added with exaggerated sincerity, “I think it’s all thanks to you.”
Hermione blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift in tone. “What?”
Seamus leaned forward slightly, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah,” he said, nodding vigorously. “I mean, think about it. Every time I’ve had one of these little magical mishaps, you’re always there to help me out, right? And today? I did it all on my own. So… I think it’s safe to say that you’re my ‘lucky charm,’ Hermione. You’ve been rubbing off on me, and now I’m unstoppable.”
Hermione let out an incredulous scoff, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Seamus,” she muttered under her breath. “You really think you got lucky because of me?”
“Of course!” Seamus exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with that same unshakeable belief that always made her smile, even when it drove her to the edge of frustration. “I’ve had this streak of good luck ever since you’ve been around. It’s no coincidence. You’ve got magical powers, Hermione. You’re my good-luck charm.”
Despite herself, Hermione felt a small laugh escape her lips, her frustration turning into something more akin to amusement. She shook her head, her shoulders relaxing. “You’re incorrigible, Seamus.”
“Call it what you will,” he said, shrugging with all the ease of someone who was certain they were right. “But I know the truth. You’re my lucky charm. And I’m not going to stop saying it.”
Hermione rolled her eyes again, but despite her best efforts, she couldn’t suppress the warmth that was bubbling up inside her. It was hard to stay annoyed with him for long when his infectious optimism was so contagious. “Well, if it makes you happy to believe that, go ahead,” she said, her voice light. “But don’t expect me to start charging you for my services as your personal good-luck talisman.”
Seamus chuckled, his face lighting up with a playful grin. “Oh, don’t worry, Lucky Charm,” he said with a wink. “I’ll make sure to keep you well-paid. Tea and chocolate frogs, remember?”
Hermione raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, her lips twitching into an unwilling smile. She considered him for a moment, trying to decide whether or not he was truly serious about his “lucky charm” theory. Part of her wanted to roll her eyes again, but another part of her was actually warming to the idea. Maybe it was just Seamus’s infectious optimism or maybe, just maybe, there was something to his ridiculous theory after all.