The Wizard's Broom

"Merlin's beard, why was that? Because it was strange enough?"

Confusion showed in Justin's pale gray eyes.

At that moment, a fierce gust howled outside the window, making the Magic Lantern Justin had hung on the wall sway violently.

He poked Sean and Hermione, finally snapping them both out of their absorption.

Hermione frowned slightly, puffing out her cheeks as she was about to say something.

But then she saw Justin staring dumbfoundedly, his hand pointing out the window.

Beside the ancient walls enclosing three sides of the grounds, a figure flew toward the castle like lightning.

He swept past the open fan-shaped arched window, bringing with him a howling gale.

The tip of his broom still gleamed beneath the sunlight.

"Because it looked cool... now I get it."

Justin's murmur was carried away by the wind, but the eagerness in his eyes was impossible to hide.

"Don't even think about it, Justin... First-years are strictly forbidden from flying brooms without permission. Haven't you memorized the school rules?"

Hermione's soft words shattered the blond boy's fantasy.

"Huh?!"

Justin stood there in stunned surprise, rigid as half a log.

"Don't tell me you came here without learning the school rules."

Hermione was less fascinated by the older student who had just flown past on a broom than she was concerned about the dazed Little Badger.

"Honestly, if you haven't memorized the rules, how can you make sure you won't break them?"

"I don't know... I didn't think Hogwarts would be that strict..."

Justin was momentarily at a loss.

Instinctively, he looked at Sean.

"Sean, have you memorized the school rules?"

"Mm."

Sean's nod made Justin's gaze dim completely.

In fact, to make sure he could stay at Hogwarts no matter what, Sean had even memorized the school rules backward.

Hermione was right. First-year Young Wizards were forbidden from riding brooms without permission, but Madam Hooch's approval would make things different.

Though not many first-year Young Wizards could manage that, there was always hope.

"Honestly... here, take it."

Hermione placed a brown, gold-patterned book into Justin's arms. It was filled with meticulous notes.

The Little Badger's dim eyes brightened again.

He held Hogwarts: A History in his hands and heard Hermione mutter, "Idiot."

"Also, wizards don't use magic brooms just to look cool..."

Hermione turned a page in The Quidditch Ball.

The three little heads huddled together again.

Experience throughout the ages had taught wizards that—

if their Muggle neighbors learned all their secrets, those Muggles would try every possible way to make use of their abilities.

So, if wizards wanted a means of flight in their homes, it had to be something discreet, something easy to hide.

What happened next was obvious to everyone.

"So they chose brooms?"

Justin had not expected that answer, but he soon nodded in understanding.

"If my neighbors were wizards, I'd find it hard to stop myself from wanting to learn about them too."

The afternoon sunlight slanted through the fan-shaped arched window, dividing the small classroom into a warm space of interwoven light and shadow.

A few specks of dust drifted slowly through the beams like countless tiny golden sprites.

Then they suddenly trembled.

The three studying Quidditch were immediately startled as another series of thumps against the wall came from outside the door.

"Oh! It's Ernie. If he knocks on the wall next door, it means he'll be waiting for me in the Great Hall later."

Justin suddenly came to, quietly calling to Sean.

"It's about Professor Snape. I asked Ernie and the others to help out.

After all, Mum said that strength always grows when people stand together."

Sean nodded thoughtfully. Then the two of them said goodbye to Hermione and left the classroom.

Justin added:

"Hermione, don't worry. I won't tell anyone where the classroom is. After all, this is a secret between the three of us!

I promise..."

Hermione, absorbed in her reading, seemed not to care about that at all. Only after Sean and Justin had left

did her eyes redden slightly.

In the Great Hall.

A short, plump blond boy was fidgeting uneasily. He held a book in his hands, but his eyes kept drifting toward the entrance.

"All right, Finley told me to wait for him here, so he'll definitely come. Instead of worrying about that, I should worry about Friday's Flying Class."

"Ernie!"

Justin swept his gaze across the Great Hall and spotted the boy at the Hufflepuff table.

"Justin!"

The short, plump boy responded at once, and Justin immediately led Sean over at a brisk pace.

Looking at that somewhat familiar face, a flood of information surfaced in Sean's mind.

Ernie Macmillan.

A ninth-generation pure-blood Hufflepuff, and an equally sincere Hufflepuff.

He had once mistakenly believed Harry to be the Heir of Slytherin. After Hermione was petrified, he gradually realized that Harry was innocent and publicly apologized to him. Harry accepted his apology as well.

What left the deepest impression on Sean was still the Battle of Hogwarts, when Professor McGonagall said to Ernie, who was a Prefect:

"Once the Prefects have heard my orders, organize the students of your Houses and see them to the evacuation point in an orderly manner."

Ernie Macmillan, however, said with rare seriousness:

"What if we want to stay and fight?"

Ernie brought welcome news: Professor Snape was grading assignments today and had already been in his office for quite a while.

Sean immediately took the brewing tools and ingredients out of the classroom

and set off for the Dungeon.

As for why he insisted on brewing in the Dungeon, it was because first-year young wizards were not qualified to take their cauldrons out of the Dungeon.

If they could, Hogwarts would no doubt gain a great many experts in explosions.

Potions was hardly a safe subject. Just as chemistry experiments needed to be conducted in a laboratory, such dangerous activities could not be carried out casually.

Wisps of white smoke once again drifted above the cauldron. Sean remained focused, his hands moving without pause.

Before long, the cauldron began bubbling away, and only faint breathing and the boiling of the cauldron remained in the Dungeon.

By the time Professor Snape left his office and came to the Dungeon, Sean had already left with three proficiency points, thoroughly satisfied.

Master Libatius Borage had been right.

Without sufficient mental willpower, it was impossible to complete the Improvement Ritual.

Ever since his last potion-brewing session, Sean's exhaustion had never gone away.

This fatigue came from deep within, and according to Master Libatius Borage's estimate, it would last for at least five days.

While waiting for the exhaustion to fully subside, Sean did not idle around. If one had to precisely describe what he was doing in a single sentence, it would be this:

He was playing hide-and-seek with Professor Snape.