After circling a few times on his broom, Sean hovered cautiously in front of Madam Hooch. "Madam Hooch, may I fly just a bit higher?"
"For those mischievous little troublemakers, my answer would be no," she replied, raising her hand to summon an equally weathered broom into her grip. "But… what are you waiting for? Let's go!"
The wind roared as Sean hovered ten feet above the ground, clearly spotting every dent in the Quidditch pitch's grass from stray Bludgers. The southwest stands, where the Golden Snitch often darted, gleamed softly with gilded railings in the morning light. Below, a neatly trimmed lawn stretched out, dotted with curious first-years craning their necks, gasping at the sight of a wizard flying alongside Madam Hooch herself.
With her approval, Sean gave in to the rare sense of freedom and urged his broom higher. It trembled slightly under his control but obeyed. When he surpassed fifty feet, Hogwarts' silhouette unfolded before him: castle spires piercing the morning mist, the Black Lake shimmering like a dark mirror, and the Forbidden Forest sprawling like an inky green sea.
[You have practiced flying to proficient standards. Proficiency +10]
[You have practiced flying to expert standards. Proficiency +50]
…
[A new flying domain title has been unlocked]
Madam Hooch followed at a leisurely pace. Perhaps it had been too long since she'd left the Quidditch pitch, but she'd forgotten the terrifying talent of top-tier players. She barely noticed how high Sean had climbed, too caught up in eagerly sharing practical tips.
Under her guidance, Sean felt his exhaustion fade, his emerald-green eyes growing sharper as he gazed into the distance.
Magic originated within a wizard, but its details were often vague. One thing was certain: a wizard's magical capacity, or power level, grew as they did. But when a wizard was too tired to cast spells, was their magic truly depleted?
If that were true, then where did emotions or mental strength draw the power for even greater magic?
As he soared over the grass, Sean found his answer.
Just as a regular person couldn't tap into their full physical strength, a wizard couldn't access all their magic at once. Flying, he realized, was a way to slowly awaken dormant magical energy within. The process was gradual but profoundly meaningful.
Of course, Sean figured that practicing charms, Transfiguration, or even brewing potions did the same thing—just at different paces.
In a room warmed by a crackling fireplace, a hand grading papers paused. Minerva McGonagall felt a breeze and looked up, her stern gaze landing on a young wizard flying with fluid grace, his robes flapping like wings.
"Quidditch…" A rare smile tugged at her lips. But as she returned to her work, she froze, then rushed to the window, disbelief in her eyes. Yes, it was unmistakable—a first-year, and none other than Green, that frail little seed she'd brought to Hogwarts. How was he flying like that?
"Thank you, Madam Hooch," Sean said, landing shakily, drenched in sweat. His limbs were numb, but he'd saved just enough energy for a Cleaning Charm to tidy the broom before handing it to the effortlessly landing Madam Hooch.
"Interested in joining Quidditch?" she asked, nodding with approval. Disciplined, restrained, and immensely talented—such a gifted child was rare.
Sean blinked, his mind flashing to what he'd read about Quidditch: The first Quidditch World Cup, held in 1473, recorded numerous fouls—like transfiguring a Chaser into a skunk, attempting to cleave a Keeper's head with a broadsword, or releasing a hundred vampire bats from under the Transylvanian captain's robes.
He shook his head.
"Not even if you'd make an excellent Seeker?" Madam Hooch pressed, surprised.
[The Seeker holds a uniquely captivating role, as they're historically the best flyers on the pitch. Thus, "take out the Seeker" is the first rule in Brutus Scrimgeour's The Beater's Bible.]
Sean shook his head even harder. What kind of terrifying book was that?
"You could even join a national team," Madam Hooch continued. "They've got great mascots, and…"
She trailed off, recalling: [The Bangers team adopted a Hebridean Black dragon as their mascot.]
Sean's head was practically a propeller now. Compared to a Hebridean Black dragon, he thought he'd make a better mascot himself.
Let the dragon play Seeker.
He quickly fled the Quidditch pitch, his steps light as he hurried to test his theories about magical power. He didn't notice the tall witch in deep green robes watching him.
In the classroom, Hermione and Justin were whispering about something. When the topic was someone everyone was curious about, ending the conversation was no easy task.
Sean focused on practicing the Water-Making Charm, determined to master at least two spells to beginner level. "…Eight, nine… one extra!" he muttered excitedly. He wasn't sure if this magical awakening was permanent, but it was significant. He'd never read about this in any book.
"Or maybe I just haven't read enough…" he thought rigorously.
Checking his panel again:
[Water-Making Charm: Apprentice Level (45/300)]
Progress was slow but steady.
[Title: Novice Flyer]
[Slightly enhances sensitivity to a broom's magical energy, significantly boosts flying talent]
Significantly boosts flying talent? Sean scrolled down curiously:
[Wizard Sean, Flying Talent: Gold]
No change? Maybe the "significant boost" was relative to a normal standard. Or perhaps it improved but couldn't surpass the golden legend limit.
While waiting for his fatigue to fade, Sean opened Advanced Potion-Making. Flying was for climbing Ravenclaw Tower's stairs, charms were for the scholarship ahead, but potions? They were for a longer-term goal: earning Galleons.
Money could fuel his magical studies. As a first-year Hogwarts orphan, Sean's options were limited. After much thought, especially influenced by Professor Snape's subtle remarks, he'd set his sights on this path.
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