[You practiced Flying once at Expert standard. Proficiency +50]
[A new title in the Flying domain has been unlocked]
By the time he left the Quidditch pitch, his flying had broken through Novice to Adept.
Sean naturally opened his panel:
[Title: Intermediate Flyer]
[Greatly increases sensitivity to broom magic; greatly improves flying talent; slightly increases short-burst power in flight]
Holding the Nimbus 2000, Sean still felt it wasn't quite real. The thing that had troubled him for so long had arrived in such an unbelievable way.
Professor McGonagall was as warm as the old lady who used to visit the orphanage—she always brought pudding to Sean's sickbed. He respected her as he respected his professor.
For a moment, he really took Hogwarts to be… home.
In the corridor, Sean suddenly heard a strange sound—a small boy sobbing.
At the end of the hall, in shadow, Neville Longbottom had curled himself into a ball against the cold stone wall. The rough stone pressed through his robes into his shoulder, but he barely felt it; a sharper pain spread up from his heart and gripped his throat. Tears rolled hot and out of control. He bit his lip to stop the humiliating whimper and tasted salt and deeper shame.
Yesterday's Charms lesson replayed again and again—his nervous wand wave, the incantation for Levitation, and then a blinding burst of light shooting out of control and striking unwarned Professor Flitwick squarely. The small professor flipped back like a feather, smacking into the bookcase—quills and parchment cascading everywhere.
For a second, the world stopped.
But when Flitwick stood, he simply brushed dust from his robes—without a single rebuke. That patience lay on Neville like a stone. He didn't deserve it. He was an idiot—a fool who couldn't master the simplest spell and even hurt a professor. Just like the Slytherins said…
He buried his face in his knees, shoulders shaking.
Hesitant footsteps sounded in the echoing corridor and stopped nearby. Neville held his breath, wishing himself invisible. The steps resumed—lighter, slower—then stopped a short distance away and crouched.
"Longbottom?"
Michael held a book. He actually had important business today, but he couldn't pretend not to see someone crying. "Spell mishaps are normal. Professor Flitwick didn't say anything, did he?"
Neville nearly cried again. Michael panicked and blurted, "It's just Charms! Fine—I'll tell you a secret. Take this corridor to the moving stair from the second floor to the third, wait at the end of the first corridor, and you'll find the trick behind Mr. Finch-Fletchley's sudden progress."
Then he smacked his own forehead. Damn it—he'd watched for ages to discover that secret, planning to use it himself and give Sean a proper scare.
"What?" Neville couldn't process.
"Just go!" Michael shoved a slip of paper into his hand. "Don't read it."
He left Neville standing there, dazed. The note read:
Sean, please please teach him—your Charms is the best. I've watched—Mr. Longbottom only lacks confidence. With you, the top student, I guarantee he'll learn Levitation in thirty minutes. I offer all my puddings in tribute. —Yours faithfully, Michael
Sean stood at the junction of two corridors and had heard everything clearly. He quietly changed course for the classroom—Michael had the last turn wrong.
…
Sean often heard Slytherins mock Neville; even in Gryffindor he wasn't popular. Yet his magical talent didn't seem weak.
"Th-thank you, Mr. Green. Thank you—and Michael…" Neville's eyes were still wet, as if Sean had done something extraordinary. In truth, Sean had just handed over his notes and stressed a few key points—and Neville naturally produced a Levitation Charm. They didn't even reach the second corridor.
What Sean didn't notice was that, as Longbottom left full of gratitude, two pairs of eyes had sprouted behind the blue door's crack. Sean opened the classroom door.
One glance put a puzzled light in his eyes. "Switch seats if you like…"
Justin and Hermione sprang up, faces flushed, and hurried back to their own chairs. Damn—too flustered just now…
Sean mulled it over, then went back to practice.
"Accio—Quill!"
The quill rose on cue and floated into his hand.
[You practiced the Summoning Charm once at Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
[You practiced the Summoning Charm once at Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
…
He flopped into the chair and gulped a potion.
Panel:
[Summoning Charm: Novice (3/900)]
[Aguamenti: Novice (2/900)]
[Levitation Charm: Novice (200/900)]
Next, all he needed was to grind Levitation to Flitwick's mark.
He eyed the wooden stool with the obvious knothole, considering whether he could make it float. But before his strength fully returned, first period in the afternoon was starting.
Wednesday—Ravenclaw's first afternoon lesson was Herbology.
By then the greenhouse was silent. The clusters of first-years were gone. Even Hufflepuffs rarely kept at the repeated tasks. Magical plants don't grow in a day; when the novelty fades, few have enough love to carry on.
After certain "attacking the professor" incidents, even Neville—who never left the greenhouse—was gone.
Professor Sprout looked at the empty Greenhouse One. The face that always wore a warm smile now held a trace of loss.
~~~
Patreon(.)com/Bleam
— Currently You can Read 100 Chapters Ahead of Others!