Sean could understand the necessity of this.
A flying broomstick on the pitch was also known as a wizard's comrade-in-arms.
An old, outdated broomstick, for a first-year novice who had just learned to fly, was undoubtedly a huge hindrance and could even be dangerous.
The manual craftsmanship of a broomstick determined its upper and lower limits.
Expensive brooms, like the Nimbus 2000, not only had a unique braking system,
but also paid for the costly patent of the braking charm, allowing for quick stops and starts,
and the complex alchemical craftsmanship inside supported full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turns.
As for the broom Sean rode, if he dared to attempt that,
the broom would undoubtedly fall apart in midair, something clearly noted in the manual issued by Nimbus 1500 Trading Company.
[As you can see, this is a teaching broom, priced at thirty Galleons. What else did you expect it to do?]
Sean thought the company's heads, Randolph Cage and Basil Horton, were not entirely wrong.
Perhaps to most other young wizards, this was no issue.
After all, the Nimbus 1500 wasn't expensive, and Quidditch shops in Diagon Alley could deliver to Hogwarts.
With just a letter, most young wizards' parents would be happy to handle it.
But Sean… if anyone could send him a letter, it would truly be miraculous.
This also meant that his plan to fly into the Ravenclaw Tower would have to be postponed until he could leave the school.
At noon, the Quidditch pitch was bathed in almost luxurious sunlight, the sky a clear, pure blue, with a few wisps of clouds like white paint casually smeared.
Sean hesitated, asking the last question before leaving:
"Mrs. Hooch, if I can't leave the school, then…"
"Oh, Mr. Green, I don't think that will be a problem for you," Mrs. Hooch handed Sean a towel to wipe off the drops falling from the shed roof. "Train well, Mr. Green, and this is the least of your worries."
With that, she strode off with her broomstick.
Sean was left standing there, puzzled.
The corridor.
A knight in a portrait was guzzling strong liquor, each gulp reddening his cheeks.
He carried an overlong sword, his knees marked with grass stains.
Seemingly drunk, he shouted:
"Hogwarts' past headmasters… oh, Violet, you must know, Phineas Nigellus Black was an evil, foolish fool!
Armando Dippet was an incompetent man who couldn't see talent!
Dumbledore, however, was very good, but the knight's faith compels me to speak the truth—he is a…" This sudden dangerous outburst shocked Sean.
Was Sir Cadogan really this brave when drunk?
Not only him, but wizards seemed to all possess a strange, reckless nature.
"Sir, if you finish speaking, I think tomorrow you and the sun can only be one," he warned kindly. "Oh, little Green…"
Hearing this, Sir Cadogan seemed to sober up. His face was still red, but his voice was much quieter.
"I mean, Dumbledore is a headmaster who satisfies all wizards at the same time."
"Sir Cadogan, is that really true?"
Mrs. Violet, dressed in a white underskirt, blinked, clearly skeptical.
Passing the noisy portraits, Sean quietly moved the drunken monk painting he had hung there a couple of days ago.
The knight had given him plenty of advice on flying. If his centuries-long life ended because of Sean's gratitude, it would seem like the punchline to some dark joke.
…
The castle was becoming more familiar day by day. Sean could even walk into the Great Hall with his eyes closed.
Even before entering, he could smell the sweet, enticing scent of roasted pumpkins drifting through the corridors.
Today's main course was pork chops and Hungarian goulash, with many flavored puddings added on top. Sean didn't even need to guess who had improved the recipes.
Just then, the mail arrived.
A hundred or so owls suddenly flew into the Great Hall, startling some young wizards.
The owls flew around the tables until they found their owners, dropping letters or parcels onto their laps.
These letters, in turn, sparked bursts of curiosity among the young wizards.
Although Sean didn't receive any letters himself, he didn't mind offering some food to the tired messengers— busy young wizards often ignored them.
A few owls landed beside Sean, and he quietly cut a small piece of toast, watching these intelligent creatures eat in silence.
After a while, the pure white owls would fly back to the owlery, joining the other owls on campus to sleep.
This scene did not escape the notice of the tall witch seated at the professor's table.
"Animals always seem to find kind children. Sometimes, they make better choices than wizards, don't they, Minerva?"
The wizard at the head of the table had long, white hair and beard; his eyes behind round spectacles were filled with deep kindness and humor.
It seemed as if he was speaking of the owls, yet perhaps not only of them.
The elder witch remained silent, watching the young wizards excitedly receive their letters and share their joy with companions— even a box of sweets would be snatched up in a frenzy.
Like Seamus, for instance.
If his friends hadn't saved a few for him, he might have burst into tears.
The young wizard, surrounded by owls, simply observed quietly, the surrounding clamor never affecting him.
After leaving the Great Hall, Sean had to face a new spell—Summoning Charm, also called Accio.
It was one of the oldest spells in wizard society, used centuries ago.
Thus, its explanation was convoluted and complex, seemingly a compilation of many spellmasters' understandings.
These explanations didn't make it more precise; instead, they were long and intricate, making one feel lost in the introduction.
Much like the winding words Hermione had spoken in class.
Sean, however, was skilled at extracting the precise parts from such descriptions; at least for him, it made learning far more efficient.
In the classroom, Sean deliberately took out a quill from his bag to practice with it, but… it seemed he hadn't quite seen it correctly…
"Focus, remember the object's properties… Accio—Quill!"
The quill quivered slightly, but did not move further.
"The upward motion, the wizard's palm should face up when casting…"
A voice interrupted Sean's thoughts.
Hermione pushed open the door and walked in, carrying a large stack of books.
"Accio—Quill!"
She waved her wand, yet the quill still remained motionless.
Now there were two people pondering.
They flipped through different books until Justin pushed the door open:
"Oh, Sean, Hermione… are you practicing with the quill like it's a lollipop?"