[You've practiced flying once at an expert level. Proficiency +50]
[A new flying domain title has been unlocked]
As he left the Quidditch pitch, his flying skills had broken through from [Beginner] to [Skilled].
Sean casually opened his panel:
[Title: Intermediate Flyer]
[Greatly increases your sensitivity to magic on a broomstick, significantly boosts your flying talent, and slightly enhances your short bursts of flight power]
Sean gripped his Nimbus 2000, still feeling a bit unreal about it all.
The thing that had been bothering him for so long had ended up in his hands in this unbelievable way.
Professor McGonagall was as warm as that old lady who used to visit the orphanage—back then, she'd always bring Sean some pudding when he was stuck in bed.
He respected her just like he respected any professor.
For a split second, he'd really started thinking of Hogwarts as... home.
In the corridor,
Sean suddenly heard a weird sound—like a little boy sobbing.
At the end of the hall, in the shadows, Neville Longbottom had curled himself into a ball against the cold stone wall.
The rough texture of the stones dug into his shoulder through his robes, but he barely felt it. Another, sharper pain was spreading from deep in his chest, choking his throat.
Tears rolled down uncontrollably, hot and scary.
He bit his lower lip hard, trying to stifle the embarrassing whimpers, but all he tasted was salty tears and an even deeper shame.
The scene from yesterday's Charms class replayed in his mind over and over—he'd waved his wand nervously, chanting the Levitation Charm, but instead, a wild burst of blinding light shot out and hit the unsuspecting Professor Flitwick dead-on.
He'd watched in horror as the professor's tiny body got flung up like a feather, crashing into the bookshelf behind him. Quills and parchment rained down everywhere with a clatter.
In that moment, the whole world froze.
But Professor Flitwick just dusted off his robes when he got up—not a single scolding word.
Still, that kindness and patience felt like the heaviest stone weighing on Neville's heart.
He didn't deserve it.
He was a klutz, a total idiot who couldn't even get the simplest spell right and ended up hurting a professor.
Just like those Slytherins said...
He buried his face deep in his knees, his skinny shoulders shaking hard.
That's when hesitant footsteps echoed softly in the empty corridor, stopping not far away.
Neville held his breath in terror, wishing he could vanish completely.
The person seemed to watch him for a few seconds, then the footsteps started up again—lighter, slower, careful as they got closer.
Finally, they stopped a short distance away, and the figure slowly crouched down.
"Longbottom?"
Michael was holding a book. Truth be told, he had something important to do today, but seeing this guy crying like that, he couldn't just walk on by.
"Charms mishaps happen all the time. Professor Flitwick didn't even say anything about it, right?"
Neville nearly burst into tears again,
And Michael panicked, blurting out:
"It's just learning a charm! Okay, fine—I'll let you in on a secret.
Head down this corridor, take the spiral staircase from the second floor to the third. Wait at the end of the first hallway up there, and you'll find out the trick behind Finnigan's quick progress."
As soon as he said it, he smacked his forehead in annoyance.
Damn it—that was a secret he'd been spying on for ages. He'd planned to check it out himself, just to give Sean a good scare.
"What?"
Neville's brain couldn't process it.
"Just go!"
Michael shoved a scrap of parchment into Neville's hand.
"Don't read the note."
He warned, then left Neville sitting there, stunned and alone.
The note just said:
[Sean, please, please—teach him. Your Charms skills are the best.
I've watched him. Mr. Longbottom just lacks confidence.
With you—the top student right now—around, I bet he'll nail the Levitation Charm in thirty minutes flat.
I'll give you all my pudding for it.
—Your loyal friend: Michael]
Sean stood at the junction of two corridors,
Having overheard the whole conversation crystal clear.
He quietly rerouted himself to the classroom—after all, Michael had gotten the directions all wrong at the end.
...
Sean often heard Slytherins mocking Neville, and even in Gryffindor, he wasn't exactly popular.
But his magical talent didn't seem weak at all.
"Th-thank you, Mr. Green. Thank you, thank you—and Michael too..."
Neville's eyes were all teary, like Sean had done something amazing.
Truth was, Sean just handed over his notes and pointed out a few key tips, and Neville cast the Levitation Charm perfectly on the spot.
They hadn't even made it to the end of the second corridor.
What Sean didn't notice, though, was that as Mr. Longbottom left with his thanks, two pairs of eyes peeked out from behind a sky-blue door crack.
And Sean just pushed open the classroom door.
One quick glance, and confusion flickered in his eyes:
"You can switch seats too, huh..."
His words made Justin and Hermione—who'd just plopped down in a scramble—jump up with flushed faces and shuffle back to their own spots.
Damn, they'd been in too much of a rush...
Sean thought about it for a second, then got back to practicing charms like usual:
"Accio—Quill! (Feather quill, come!)"
He nailed the incantation, and the quill zipped right into his hand.
[You've practiced the Summoning Charm once at a skilled level. Proficiency +10]
[You've practiced the Summoning Charm once at a skilled level. Proficiency +10]
...
Sean slumped in his chair, chugging down a potion with a "glug glug."
Then he pulled up his panel:
[Summoming Charm: Beginner Level (3/900)]
[Clear Water Charm: Beginner Level (2/900)]
[Levitation Charm: Beginner Level (200/900)]
All he had to do next was grind out that Levitation Charm proficiency to meet Professor Flitwick's requirements.
Sean eyed the stool with its obvious wood knots, wondering if he could levitate it.
But before his energy fully recharged, first period in the afternoon kicked off.
Wednesday,
Ravenclaw's first afternoon class was Herbology.
The greenhouse was dead quiet now—no more chatter.
The clusters of young witches and wizards who used to huddle together were gone.
Even Hufflepuffs rarely stuck around in the greenhouse for the repetitive work.
Magical plants don't grow overnight, and once the novelty wore off, not much real passion was left to carry them through.
Thanks to a few "attack the professor" incidents, even Neville—who used to linger—had vanished.
Professor Sprout gazed at the empty Greenhouse One, her usually kind smile tinged with a hint of disappointment.