Sir Cadogan's Tricks

Before long, the opposing groups dispersed after settling on a time.

As Harry and Ron passed by, they were still whispering about it:

"What exactly is wizard dueling?"

Harry asked, "And what do you mean by saying you'll be my assistant?"

"Oh, if you die, the assistant takes over."

Ron said casually, then noticed Harry's pale face and quickly added, "But you know, people only die in proper duels against real wizards.

You and Malfoy can at most shoot sparks at each other."

"What if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Then throw away your wand and punch him right on the nose."

Ron's voice was firm and forceful.

"Honestly!"

Hermione's face had gone red with anger, "Do they have any idea how many points they'll lose?!

I worked so hard to earn all those points, and we're still behind Ravenclaw... yet they want to lose even more!"

With that, she charged off furiously. Worried about her, Justin immediately followed:

"Oh, Sean, we'll be right back... Don't worry, with me there, Hermione won't get bullied."

Sean nodded.

Actually, he was more concerned with the Yorkshire Pudding in front of him for the moment.

Justin could handle Ron and the others' argument. He was a full head taller than Ron and the rest, so Ron would have to think twice before saying anything hurtful.

At the same time, Sean knew that because of this midnight duel, Harry would encounter the Three-headed Dog for the first time, and his adventures that school year would officially begin.

But that had little to do with Sean. The biggest connection was that

once Harry drove Voldemort away, Hogwarts would become much safer.

At least for that school year, Sean could peacefully grind his proficiency.

As the final day before Flying Class arrived, the Ravenclaws' enthusiasm nearly soared into the sky.

After politely bidding Madam Pince farewell, Sean could still hear loud discussions about Quidditch in the corridor.

Madam Pince was still leafing through his notes with great interest before she left.

This lady, whom the young wizards both respected and feared, was not always irritable.

Or rather, it was the young wizards' behavior that made her irritable.

Anyone would be angry to see books they had painstakingly organized turned into a mess, or desks they had cleaned smeared with random scribbles.

So Sean would quietly do a few things.

Casting a few Scourgify spells was simple and took little time.

Sean's History of Magic notes were already half complete, and the knowledgeable Madam Pince had given him plenty of useful advice.

Whenever Sean found himself confused, the kind lady would casually hand him a few books, saving him an untold amount of time.

Once again, he pushed shut the Library's heavy oak doors.

The slightly cool evening breeze sent Sean's hair dancing in the wind. At some point, Sir Cadogan had squeezed the black-robed wizard out of the portrait above him.

"Oh—Sean Green—seeing green!"

Sean ignored him.

"Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow, you'll have Flying Class. Yet today, you don't wish to seek advice from Scotland's greatest Chaser?"

Sean kept his head down and hurried along while Sir Cadogan darted through several portraits.

One moment, he was striding across a beautiful young lady's golden wheat field, her straw hat perched on her head; the next, he narrowly dodged several monks.

"Sir, you're from King Arthur's era, while the first Quidditch World Cup was held in 1473..."

Sean said helplessly.

"A little trick. At least you're willing to speak to me now, aren't you? Violet—three bottles of spirits!"

Sir Cadogan shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Alright, Sir, you really have a knack for this."

Violet, dressed in a long gown, smiled helplessly. A bet was a bet, and she accepted her loss.

"Aha—if only for the sake of the strong liquor, I ought to give you some advice."

Sean looked doubtfully at the seemingly unreliable knight.

To his surprise, the knight leaped straight up, only to be kicked flying by the startled Pony. But he swiftly climbed back to his feet.

"I've watched Quidditch for five centuries, Little Green. I know it even better than that lady giving the lecture!"

"Please, go on."

Sean immediately took out his notebook.

"Ahem, this is an exclusive secret. Aside from young wizards I take a liking to, I wouldn't tell a single soul.

"The last one to receive this technique was called Potter, I think. He was a talented fellow too..."

Sir Cadogan wore a nostalgic expression.

"Let me tell you: when wizards invented Flying Broomsticks, it wasn't because only brooms could fly.

"Rather, wizards inscribed their spells onto the brooms. What you control isn't the broom, but the spell.

"It is the spell that gives the broom the magic of flight. Once you realize that, you'll understand—

"Only by controlling yourself can you control flight."

It seemed to make a great deal of sense. Sean thanked him sincerely.

"Thank you."

"Ahem—"

Sir Cadogan's chin practically rose to the sky.

After Sean left, the knight muttered to himself.

"Little Green, don't go moving the monk's portrait again this time. Last time, Violet chased me around with a broom all day..."

The fireplace in the Ravenclaw Common Room was always cozy.

The young wizards habitually gathered around it to talk about Quidditch.

Sean recalled Sir Cadogan's words. Potter... talented...

Whichever Potter it was, they all seemed to possess extraordinary talent for Quidditch.

Harry had even relied on his Flying Skill to pass the fourth-floor challenge, cross the dragon obstacle in the Triwizard Tournament, and seize the Golden Egg.

Then could he...

No, wait. How had Sir Cadogan been able to tell?

Friday arrived.

Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch lay quietly at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was an enchanted arena.

Three golden posts stood on either side of the three-hundred-foot-long oval field. Between them lay the scoring area, making it look like some giant's ball-throwing game.

There were quite a few stories about those goals.

They had once been hoops, placed at the tops of the posts. Later, they were reformed into goals set between two posts.

The reason for the reform was simple. In the north, near Bawnton, the wizards there had placed tiny little baskets on their opponents' goalposts. You couldn't even fit a single grape inside.

Yet at their own end, they could even make those huge wicker openings rotate.

The Department of Magical Sports suffered a massive defeat there, and the reform was later forcibly implemented.

At the time, enraged protesters gathered in the hall and threw baskets by the armful. The department's reform representatives were forced back step by step.

There was another interesting detail.

The riots that followed had been stirred up by those goblins fanning the flames.

Beneath the towering golden posts, the young wizards of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff entered the field as well.

"Sean, isn't that broom way too thin? Can you even ride it?" Justin asked in a low voice.