Chapter 68: Neville Longbottom
[You have practiced Flying once to the Expert standard. Proficiency +50]
[A new Title in the field of Flying has been unlocked.]
By the time Sean left the Quidditch pitch, his flying skill had broken through the 'Novice' barrier, reaching 'Adept.' He naturally checked his Panel:
[Title: Adept Flyer]
[Effect: Significantly increases perception of broomstick magic. Significantly improves Flying talent. Slightly increases short bursts of speed while flying.]
Clutching the Nimbus 2000, Sean still felt a sense of disbelief. The solution to the problem that had plagued him for days had arrived in such an unexpected, almost magical way. Professor McGonagall's kindness reminded him, with a pang, of the old woman from the orphanage, who used to bring him puddings when he was confined to the infirmary bed. He respected the Professor just as much.
For a fleeting moment, Hogwarts truly felt like… home.
Walking back through the castle corridors, Sean heard a strange sound – like a small boy trying to stifle sobs. In the shadows at the end of the passage, Neville Longbottom was curled into a tight ball against the cold stone wall. The rough texture pressed uncomfortably through his robes, but he barely felt it, overwhelmed by a sharper, deeper pain spreading from his chest, choking him. Tears streamed down his face, hot and stinging. He bit his lip hard, trying to stop the humiliating whimpers, tasting only salt and shame.
The scene from yesterday's Charms class replayed endlessly in his mind: his nervous wave of the wand, the mumbled incantation, and then the uncontrolled burst of blinding light striking Professor Flitwick. He had watched in horror as the tiny professor was thrown backwards like a feather, crashing into a bookshelf, sending quills and parchment flying.
The world had frozen in that instant. Yet, Professor Flitwick had simply picked himself up, dusted off his robes, and hadn't uttered a single word of reproach. That very patience, that kindness, now felt like the heaviest stone imaginable, crushing Neville under its weight.
He didn't deserve such understanding. He was an idiot, a clumsy fool who couldn't even manage the simplest spell without endangering his teachers. Just like the Slytherins always said… He buried his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking violently.
Just then, hesitant footsteps echoed softly in the empty corridor, stopping a short distance away. Neville held his breath, wishing he could disappear completely.
The newcomer seemed to observe him for a few seconds, then the footsteps resumed, softer, slower, cautiously approaching. They stopped a respectful distance away, and someone crouched down.
"Longbottom?"
It was Michael Corner, holding a book. He had important things to do, but he couldn't just walk past someone crying. "Making mistakes with spells happens all the time. Professor Flitwick didn't even seem bothered, did he?"
Neville nearly burst into fresh tears. Michael panicked.
"It's just learning Charms!" he blurted out. "Alright, look, I'll tell you a secret. Go down this corridor, take the moving staircase from the second to the third floor, wait at the end of the first corridor on the landing… you'll find the secret to how Finch-Fletchley got so good so fast."
He finished, then slapped his forehead in annoyance. Damn it! That was his secret, discovered after days of observation! He'd been planning to sneak there himself, maybe give Sean a little scare.
"What?" Neville looked up, utterly confused.
"Just go!" Michael pressed a folded note into Neville's hand. "And don't read this until you get there," he instructed, before hurrying off, leaving Neville alone and bewildered.
The note read:
Sean,
Please, please help him out. You're the best at Charms.
I've watched him practice; Longbottom just lacks confidence.
With you helping him – the top student in our year! – I bet he'll master the Levitation Charm in thirty minutes.
I'll give you all my pudding rations for it.
—Your loyal friend, Michael
Sean, standing silently at the junction of two corridors, had overheard the entire exchange. He mentally corrected the route to the hidden classroom; Michael, in his haste, had given Neville the wrong directions.
Sean often heard the Slytherins mocking Neville, and even among the Gryffindors, he wasn't particularly popular. Yet, his magical potential didn't seem weak at all.
"Th-thank you, Mr. Green. Thank you, thank you… and Michael too…" Neville stammered, his eyes still red-rimmed, looking at Sean as if he had performed some incredible feat.
In reality, Sean had simply shared his notes and highlighted a few key points. Neville had successfully cast the Levitation Charm almost immediately, before they had even reached the end of the second corridor.
What Sean didn't notice were two pairs of eyes peering curiously through the crack of the sky-blue door as Neville departed, filled with newfound gratitude. Sean pushed the door open.
He paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he took in the scene: "Switching seats is also…"
His words made Justin and Hermione, who had been sitting suspiciously close on the small sofa, jump up guiltily and scramble back to their usual armchairs. Damn it, too flustered…
Sean just shook his head slightly and took out his wand, resuming his practice as if nothing had happened.
"Accio Quill!" The quill zipped obediently into his hand.
[You have practiced the Summoning Charm once to the Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
[You have practiced the Summoning Charm once to the Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
He practiced until exhaustion claimed him once more, collapsing into an armchair and gratefully sipping the revitalizing potion Snape had provided. He checked his Panel.
[Summoning Charm: Novice (3/900)]
[Water-Making Spell: Novice (2/900)]
[Levitation Charm: Novice (200/900)]
Now he just needed to grind the Levitation Charm proficiency to meet Professor Flitwick's implied standard. He eyed one of the sturdy wooden stools, wondering if he could manage to levitate it.
But before his energy fully returned, it was time for their first afternoon class.
Wednesday. Herbology.
The usual cheerful buzz was absent from Greenhouse One. The cluster of eager students who usually gathered around Professor Sprout was gone. Even among the hardworking Hufflepuffs, few possessed the unwavering dedication to endure the repetitive tasks day after day, especially once the initial novelty wore off. Magical plants grew slowly, demanding patience.
Even Neville, who had consistently shown up, was absent today, likely still shaken by his "attack the professor" incident in Charms.
Professor Sprout surveyed the quiet greenhouse, her usually beaming face shadowed with a touch of disappointment.