Flying Class Assessment

In the corridor.

Sir Cadogan had been trying his best to mount the pony in the painting, but unfortunately, he had spent who knew how many years on this and still had not managed it.

So, while trying to ride, he rambled on to Sean about Quidditch, and when he got excited, he slapped the pony's backside, only to be kicked into a shrimp-like curl and sent flying a long way off.

Sean silently offered a prayer for him, then opened the System Panel:

Name: Sean Green

Title: Potion Novice

Slightly increases sensitivity toward potions, slightly enhances Potions Talent

As expected, Sean nodded slightly and continued reading.

Wizard Sean, Potions Talent: Green (Potion Novice Title applied; original Talent was White). Note: Normal wizards are Green

Advancement: Brew three beginner-level potions to unlock a beginner-level Title in the Potions field

At the moment his Potions Talent changed, Sean did not know whether it was merely psychological, but when he thought back on his previous brewing, countless ideas suddenly surfaced, ideas that had never appeared during his earlier potion brewing.

Sean thought that perhaps magic was just such a wondrous thing—

it existed within a wizard's bloodline, bringing wizards miracles powerful enough to alter reality, and sufficiently talented wizards could even inherit vague fragments of knowledge from that bloodline.

Otherwise, it was difficult to explain how those hazy experience books in the Magical World taught young wizards.

With that thought, Sean slowly raised his head.

Nearly all the portraits in the corridor were dozing off, and the westering sunlight shone through the Gothic Stained Glass Windows, illuminating Sir Cadogan's endlessly chattering face.

No wonder the knight had come to bother him. Everyone else was napping.

"Sean!"

At that moment, Justin appeared in the lazy sunlight. Sean had no idea where he had popped out from, but he naturally placed a delicious-looking English Mille-feuille Cake in Sean's hand.

"A new flavor... please help me taste it,"

his gray-blue eyes narrowed, "Oh, and one more thing. Gryffindor and Slytherin's Flying Class only started a little while ago. Maybe we could go take a look?

Hermione and I spent the whole day studying techniques before. I wonder whether she's managed to use them..."

It was now half past five in the afternoon, and Sean and Justin walked down a sloping lawn to a spot where they could see the Quidditch pitch.

The view here was excellent. Not only could they take in all the young wizards currently in class, but they could also see the sparkling Black Lake and the vast Pumpkin patch in front of Hagrid's Hut.

"Look, Hermione seems to be flying pretty well.

Oh, that black-haired Gryffindor is doing fine too—wait, no, who's that? How did he fly so high in an instant?!"

Justin's eyes widened as he watched a chubby wizard shoot straight into the sky. He muttered, "Is this some kind of special training?"

It clearly was not.

After Mr. Longbottom circled around in midair for a while, he let out terrified cries as his broom streaked past a statue, but Mr. Longbottom did not, because his robes had caught on the statue's weapon, leaving him hanging high in the air as well.

Just as everyone held their breath at the heart-stopping sight and Madam Hooch began casting a spell, Mr. Longbottom cried out again—his clothes had torn under his own weight!

What followed were dull cries of "Ah," "Ow," and "Ooh."

Mr. Longbottom crashed into a torch, then a wall, before finally slamming heavily onto the ground.

"Will he survive?"

Justin's voice was filled with concern.

"He'll be fine."

Sean comforted him in a low voice. If he remembered correctly, even falling from that height had only resulted in Neville breaking his wrist.

This was where one had to mention that wizards possessed physiques far beyond ordinary people. Sean even suspected that the brooms might not have any protective enchantments at all.

Wizards relied entirely on their own bodies to withstand the wind resistance and perform all sorts of difficult maneuvers at extreme speeds.

After all, the Nimbus 1000 had already reached speeds of 100 miles per hour in 1967.

And in the 1990s, the Firebolt, with its ash handle, could reach an astonishing top speed of 150 miles per hour.

The Quaffles that chased the players were only faster, never slower.

When people collided with such terrifying kinetic force, Hogwarts's most serious accidents had only involved one or two people getting their jaws shattered. That was all.

Wizards were practically superhuman.

"Alright."

Justin then looked worriedly at Hermione, praying that she would not take to the skies.

At the same time, he even found time to slip two Chocolate Chip Cookies to Sean.

Although flying was humanity's dream, after witnessing this incident, Sean reevaluated Flying Class and suddenly realized that it was no less dangerous than Potions class.

It was hard to imagine that after only roughly listening to Madam Hooch's explanation, wizards were expected to fly on their own.

There had not even been a demonstration or trial flight.

How was that any different from watching a few driving tips and then heading straight onto the road?

Wizards really were tough as nails...

But Sean was different. If he fell from a great height, he would not merely end up bruised all over—he would be scattered in pieces.

Flying Class ended soon enough. After carefully observing Madam Hooch's Flying Skill, Sean and Justin successfully reunited with the still-shaken Hermione.

"Are you feeling alright, Hermione?"

Justin offered her a cup of Honey Lemon Tea, still steaming hot.

Sean glanced at him in mild surprise.

Where had he pulled that out from?

"Not very..."

Hermione took a sip of the lemon tea and relaxed slightly.

"I have to say, if you 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 entered the castle, Sean was still carefully pondering Madam Hooch's Flying Skill.

Learning to ride a broom was just as important, especially after Sean had unlocked the Potions title.

He had now collected five Scholarship Fragments, leaving only Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Herbology was not difficult. He only needed to proceed step by step.

That left only Defense Against the Dark Arts.

If Professor Quirrell was unreliable, there had to be a reliable professor somewhere, right?

Sean thought.

Hogwarts had more than one professor skilled in the Dark Arts and their counter-curses.

When they arrived at the Great Hall, Hermione and Justin were discussing the perilous flight from earlier, while Sean heard some particularly unpleasant voices.

"Having your last meal, Potter? When are you taking the train back to the Muggles?"

Justin and Hermione frowned almost at the same time and turned toward the Gryffindor table.

"Now that you're back on the ground, with your little friends by your side again, you've gotten much braver."

They heard Harry say coldly.

"I'm willing to face you one-on-one anytime,"

Malfoy said.

"If you have no objections, tonight. A wizard's duel, wands only—no physical contact.

What's wrong? I suppose you've never even heard of a wizard's duel?"

"Of course he had."

Ron, standing nearby, suddenly turned around.

"I'm his assistant. Who's your assistant?"

"Oh no—"

Hermione's cheeks puffed out as she said irritably, "Just how many points are they trying to dock from Gryffindor?"