Chapter 166: Leave-of-Absence Application

It was nearly time for the Hogwarts Express to depart; wizards lined up and left the snow-clad castle.

Far away, one could see the giant leading a string of tiny figures, tracing dark, winding lines across the snow.

The view from Ravenclaw Tower had always been excellent, but Wizard Sean simply stared at the horizon for a long time.

Putting the thick, resilient sheet of paper into his bag, Wizard Sean began making his final batch of biscuits.

The Hut was much quieter now. Jia Jia Siting and Hermione had just left, and Harry and Ron had been spending days in the library searching for something; when Wizard Sean arrived, he found Neville practicing Aqua Eructo.

The wooden table spat out the first-row alchemy books on its left; as Wizard Sean examined them, a loud crash sounded beside him.

He turned his head—it was Neville, drenched from splashing himself with Aqua Eructo. The crash had been the sound of the massive water mass hitting the floor.

Wizard Sean looked at the damp portion of his notes and heard Neville’s shaky, tear-choked voice:

“S-sorry, Wizard Sean…”

He himself looked like a drowned rat, yet he was the one apologizing first.

Outside, snow had piled up several feet deep; a cold front swept in from the frozen Black Lake, making Neville shiver.

Wizard Sean waved his wand and closed the window; as he dried the books and Neville by the fireplace, he heard Neville whisper:

“Wizard Sean… if you’re going to kick me out of the Hut, I’ll leave right now…”

Neville stared at Wizard Sean with tear-filled eyes, leaving Wizard Sean somewhat baffled… What was this all about?

“You know, Neville, no one can make you leave.”

Wizard Sean spoke as if stating an obvious fact.

“But I… I ruined your books.”

Neville trembled from the cold.

“They’re just wet, Neville—they’ll dry.”

Wizard Sean guessed it must be another rumor from Harry or Ron; last time, he’d heard them say: If you touch Wizard Sean’s books, you’d better be stronger than ten trolls combined.

“Wizard Sean—it’s all my fault. Everyone knows I’m practically a Squib.”

On Neville’s round face hung deep guilt; he gripped his wand tightly, its surface marked with scars, as if from battle.

“I think sometimes the problem isn’t with you.”

Wizard Sean said.

“W-what kind of problem?”

Neville placed his wand behind his back, as if distancing the topic from the wand itself.

Yet he knew well: the saying “the wand chooses the wizard” was no mere flattery from Ollivander—nearly every wizard in Britain accepted it as truth.

Even his grandmother was furious he kept his father’s wand.

“You always understand, Neville. I know it’s hard, but perhaps it’s time to face it, isn’t it…”

Wizard Sean gazed into Neville’s eyes, spoke softly, then flipped the book in his hand.

Hours passed like this until the soaked books were nearly dry.

“Should I… get a new wand?”

Neville stared blankly at Wizard Sean—he understood perfectly, yet he still looked like he might cry.

He looked at his wand, wondering if he weren’t so clumsy, maybe things would be…

“But… I want to keep it. Sometimes, especially at night, I want my father to know I’m at Hogwarts… just like him.

Wizard Sean—do I… disappoint him?”

Wizard Sean turned his head:

“When a problem is spoken aloud, half of it is already solved. Neville, why would you let your wand leave you?”

“W-what do you mean?”

Neville didn’t quite follow.

“Choice is this: facing two terrible outcomes—or two wonderful ones. Otherwise, why call it a choice?

The joy, Neville, is that you face two wonderful options—and even better, this might not be a choice at all.

You can keep your father’s wand, can’t you? I suspect it holds value in certain ways. Try this—Finite.”

Wizard Sean waved his wand; the self-transforming wooden table froze in place.

Neville hadn’t understood yet, but instinctively mimicked Wizard Sean’s incantation—and to his surprise, succeeded on the first try.

Though he didn’t fully halt the table’s transformation, it was a vast improvement over his past failures—even the Levitation Charm had eluded him.

“W-why…?”

Neville stood there, dazed.

“Because it is the wand of the legendary Auror Frank Longbottom, now inherited by his son, Neville Longbottom. It was born for battle and protection.”

Wizard Sean stared at the wand, as if expecting this outcome.

“You can have two wands, Neville. When you need to strike or defend, it remains your companion.”

Wizard Sean rarely spoke so much; when he finished, Neville was weeping uncontrollably.

Wizard Sean walked to the door; the cold wind of Hogwarts brushed his face, yet he caught the sweet, soft scent of pumpkin.

Neville truly needed a new wand—but Frank Longbottom’s wand was not useless at all.

With his father’s wand, Neville performed terrifyingly well in certain areas.

For instance, in Defense Against the Dark Arts practicals, he never failed; he defeated Boggarts on the first try, every time, with exceptional results;

In DA lessons, Neville learned faster than ninety-nine percent of his peers—Disarming and Stunning spells came effortlessly, and his Patronus appeared on command.

From this perspective, it not only explained Neville’s erratic magical talent, but also made his role in the Department of Mysteries battle all the more compelling.

Neville himself must have been bewildered: facing a flood of Death Eaters, his usual incompetence vanished, replaced by an overwhelming surge of power from his wand.

Because the wand carried the will of the legendary Auror—Frank Longbottom.

“I… I’m too late!”

After a long while, Neville burst out of the Hut—he’d resolved to buy himself a new wand, but the Hogwarts Express had already departed; even if he filed a leave-of-absence application now, he couldn’t possibly catch it.

“Or… just in time.”

In Wizard Sean’s hand, a form had appeared out of nowhere; he flicked his wrist, and the form fell open, clearly reading:

[Dear Mr. Green:

I’ve agreed to submit a leave-of-absence application on behalf of Longbottom. Please get that boy back soon.

I am honored that such a fine friend watches over this child. If you change your mind and wish to spend Christmas with the Longbottom family, do contact me promptly.

—Yours faithfully, Augusta Longbottom]

“Hurry now.”

Wizard Sean blinked, and his voice dissolved into the snow-covered castle of Hogwarts.

The writer’s assistant malfunctioned—refresh the chapter and it will restore.