Chapter 122

he saw the armor gleaming, and the spirited owl stayed on his shoulder, "cooing" and pointing to a path he had passed many times.

He didn't notice that the oil painting of Lady Wheatfield behind him was already crowded with people.

The golden wheat field rolled in the sun, like an ocean kissed by the sun,

and in the wheat waves, one could faintly see people holding a few blue cornflowers, whispering and murmuring:

"Knight, I'm so excited, that child was so worried today that he almost twisted his sharp eyebrows into a duck egg."

Lady Violet pinched the corner of her skirt, watching the young wizard walk by with the owl; for a moment, she even felt she couldn't breathe.

"Lady Violet, oh, come and help me, my injured hand really can't reach my eyes."

Sir Cadogan put down his pony, his eyes shining.

"Did you all see that letter?! I can't imagine... do you know? I've watched little Marcus Maige for fifty years!"

The Fat Lady stroked her chest and was interrupted by Sir Cadogan in a low voice:

"Alright, alright, my dear lady, go watch that big cat; a knight's focus should only be on little Green."

"Professor?"

Sean knocked on the wooden door.

He was a bit nervous.

He wasn't afraid of Professor Sineipu, nor did he have any prejudice against Professor Qiluo—although the two-headed man was indeed a bit outrageous.

But only Professor Marcus Maige,

he would not forget the owl that broke through the window—that's right, it was the one on his shoulder,

nor would he forget Professor Marcus Maige's help.

The hospital bed in the orphanage always smelled of mold, and the feeling of potentially dying at any time was not pleasant,

and it especially made Sean remember the day the professor took him out.

Pushing open the door.

The Transfiguration office was always filled with the faint scent of sandalwood and parchment,

the fire in the fireplace was burning wildly, and beside the fireplace, a long object was firmly wrapped.

Professor Marcus Maige's dark green robe was spread out, a few strands of silver hair faintly yellowing under the firelight, her brows and eyes unusually lacking their severity, her voice gentle and steady:

"Mr. Green, come here."

Sean ran over honestly, not noticing the deeper worry in Professor Marcus Maige's eyes.

She shook her wand gently, and the long object flew to the table in front of Sean:

"Open it and see, Mr. Green."

Sean held his breath, his head feeling a bit dazed for a moment.

On the wooden table, the package he carefully opened contained a fantastic broom:

the lines were beautiful and glossy, the handle was mahogany, and the long tail was tied with neat, straight twigs,

"Nimbus 2000"—these words were printed in gold on the top of the broom handle.

"I might not quite understand, Professor."

Facing the huge temptation, Sean was not excited or happy; he just asked the question carefully, in a weak tone.

Think about it, he is not a Gryffindor, nor is he the designated savior,

and even three months ago, he was just an orphan in the orphanage, just waiting for his body to get a little better to escape from Holisai.

He knew Professor Marcus Maige was cold on the outside but kind on the inside, but was he worthy of this intense kindness?

The Nimbus 2000 is not one of those broken brooms; its price in Diagon Alley is at least over 600 Jin Jialong.

"King Arthur above!"

In the portrait frame of the Transfiguration classroom, Sir Cadogan almost couldn't help but knock on Sean's head.

Then he was pulled back by the Fat Lady:

"Knight, my dear knight, how can you bear to ruin this scene—"

In the firelight of the fireplace, Minerva Marcus Maige slowly moved the broom away, the gentleness in her eyes erasing Sean's confusion.

"Come to me, child."

Sean suddenly felt himself being hugged.

He smelled a reassuring fragrance, and at the same time, confusion and an inexplicable warmth enveloped him.

He saw Professor Marcus Maige's emerald green star-shaped brooch shining, and heard the professor say softly:

"Mr. Green, there is no magic study today, tell me about your days at Hogwarts, okay?"

In the corridor, a knight strode past the golden wheat field with two ladies,

all three faces beaming with smiles.

"Those stern faces occasionally burst into surprisingly warm sounds—it was truly a trip worth taking—"

The Fat Lady wiped the corner of her eye.

"Hmph—"

Sir Cadogan's beard curled up, he muttered,

"Coward, coward, even feeling at a loss when faced with happiness."

As he spoke, his voice grew lower and lower.

Sean held the broom and walked all the way to the Quidditch pitch; a spell had been cast on the broom, making it effortless to carry.

"Come over quickly, Mr. Green,"

Madam Hooch was organizing the brooms; she saw the gleaming new broom at a glance and then nodded with satisfaction,

"The new broom is nice, adapt to it; today we are going to simulate the test session."

Sean nodded and mounted the broom,

only then did he savor Madam Hooch's "hints."

At the same time, he didn't even cautiously apply to Madam Hooch before flying up on his own; the usual caution seemed to have dissipated a bit.

Madam Hooch's eagle-like gaze watched him,

her eyes revealing a hint of relief.

There were many test contents: shuttling through several hoops, bypassing poles, dodging golf balls cast with magic—these were all things Sean had to complete within half an hour.

Madam Hooch conducted it almost according to the strictest standards:

"Mr. Green, turn! Pull up! Stay focused, adjust your posture; only with enough proficiency can you avoid the flying dangers that often occur at Hogwarts!"

In the room where the fireplace was burning fiercely,

the tall witch watched the pitch, and an old voice came from beside her.

"Minerva, it seems you haven't cared about a child like this for a long time."

The kind wizard with a long white beard stared at the painting in the room, his deep blue eyes carrying cunning, and then turned to say with a certain teasing tone.

Minerva Marcus Maige's robe still had traces of wrinkles, her voice stern yet gentle.

The two were unexpectedly intertwined harmoniously.

She looked at him, as if looking at a seed, and as if looking at a sprout that had finally broken through the soil.

"You don't understand, Albus, he smiled slightly and said many things to me,

and I feel that for this, I have waited a long time."