In the corridor, Sir Cadogan was still valiantly trying to mount his stubby pony in the portrait. Unfortunately, he'd been at it for who-knows-how-many years without success. So, instead, he busied himself chatting Sean's ear off about Quidditch, getting so excited that he slapped the pony's rear—only to get kicked into a shrimp-like curl and sent flying across the frame.
Sean silently wished him luck and opened his panel:
Name: Sean Green
Title: Potions Novice
Effect: Slightly increases potion perception and enhances potion-making talent.
As expected, Sean nodded and scrolled down.
Wizard Sean, Potion Talent: Green (enhanced by Potions Novice title; original talent: White). Note: Average wizard talent is Green.
Progress: Brew three beginner-level potions to unlock the Introductory Potions Title.
Sean wasn't sure if it was just in his head, but the moment his potion talent shifted, new ideas about his previous brewing sessions flooded his mind—ideas that had never occurred to him before.
Maybe that's what magic was, Sean thought. It coursed through a wizard's blood, granting miracles that could reshape reality. Gifted wizards might even inherit faint traces of knowledge from that bloodline. How else could those vague, cryptic magical texts teach young witches and wizards anything?
Lost in thought, Sean glanced up. The corridor's portraits were mostly dozing off, their frames bathed in the slanting sunlight streaming through the gothic stained-glass windows, illuminating Sir Cadogan's endlessly chattering face. No wonder he'd come to bother Sean—everyone else was napping.
"Sean!"
Justin appeared out of nowhere in the lazy afternoon glow, casually handing Sean a slice of delicious-looking English layered cake.
"New flavor… please give it a try," Justin said, his gray-blue eyes crinkling. "Oh, and one more thing—Gryffindor and Slytherin's flying lesson just started. Maybe we could go check it out? Hermione and I spent all day researching techniques, but I'm not sure if she's putting them to use…"
---
It was 5:30 p.m. Sean and Justin trudged down a grassy slope to a spot with a perfect view of the Quidditch pitch. From here, they could see the young witches and wizards in their lesson, the shimmering Black Lake, and Hagrid's pumpkin patch sprawling near his hut.
"Look, Hermione's flying pretty well," Justin said. "Oh, and that black-haired Gryffindor's not bad either—wait, who's that? How'd he shoot up so high so fast?!"
Justin's eyes widened as a chubby wizard rocketed skyward. "Is this some kind of special training?" he muttered.
It clearly wasn't.
Neville Longbottom spun wildly in the air before his broom zoomed past a statue—without him. His robes had snagged on the statue's weapon, leaving him dangling high above the ground.
As everyone held their breath watching the heart-stopping scene, Madam Hooch cast a spell. Neville let out another yelp as his robes tore under his weight, sending him crashing into a torch, then a wall, and finally thudding heavily onto the ground.
"Is he… alive?" Justin's voice trembled with worry.
"He'll be fine," Sean reassured him quietly. If he remembered correctly, falling from that height only cost Neville a broken wrist.
It was a testament to wizards' superhuman resilience. Sean even suspected broomsticks lacked any protective charms—wizards relied purely on their tough bodies to withstand wind resistance and perform high-speed stunts. After all, the 1967 Nimbus 1000 could hit 100 miles per hour, and by the 1990s, the Firebolt's ash handle pushed that to 150. Bludgers chasing players were even faster. Yet, with all that kinetic force, the worst accidents at Hogwarts were a few broken jaws. Wizards were practically superheroes.
"Alright," Justin said, now watching Hermione with concern, silently praying she wouldn't take to the skies. In the meantime, he slipped Sean a couple of chocolate biscuits.
Flying might be humanity's dream, but after witnessing this, Sean reassessed the flying lesson. It was easily as dangerous as Potions class. Wizards were expected to hop on a broom and fly after barely listening to Madam Hooch's instructions—no demonstrations, no test flights. It was like being handed a car manual and told to hit the road.
Wizards were tough, no doubt. But Sean? If he fell from that height, he wouldn't just be bruised—he'd be in pieces.
---
The flying lesson ended soon after. Having closely observed Madam Hooch's techniques, Sean and Justin reunited with a still-shaken Hermione.
"You okay, Hermione?" Justin asked, handing her a steaming cup of honey-lemon tea.
Sean shot him a surprised glance. Where did he pull that from?
"Not great," Hermione admitted, sipping the tea and relaxing slightly. "I'll say this—if you two get on a broom tomorrow, the most important thing is not falling off. As for flying… did you see Neville?"
"You're right," Justin nodded in agreement.
As they headed back to the castle, Sean mulled over Madam Hooch's flying techniques. Learning to ride a broom was just as crucial, especially now that he'd unlocked his Potions title. He'd already collected five scholarship fragments, leaving only Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Herbology was straightforward—follow the steps, and he'd be fine. That left Defense Against the Dark Arts. If Professor Quirrell wasn't up to par, surely another professor skilled in dark magic and counter-curses would be, right?
In the Great Hall, Hermione and Justin were chatting about the nerve-wracking flying lesson when Sean caught a snippet of another conversation.
"Having your last meal, Potter? When are you hopping on the train back to the Muggle world?"
Justin and Hermione frowned simultaneously, turning toward the Gryffindor table.
"Now that you're back on the ground with your little friends, you're a lot braver," Harry said coolly.
"I'm ready to take you on anytime, just the two of us," Malfoy shot back. "If you're up for it, tonight. A wizard's duel—wands only, no contact. What's wrong? Never heard of a wizard's duel, I bet."
"He has," Ron interjected, spinning around. "I'm his second. Who's yours?"
"Oh no," Hermione groaned, puffing out her cheeks in frustration. "How many points are they trying to lose for Gryffindor?"