Chapter 345: Memory Ball

“Wizard Sean…”

Harry immediately turned his gaze to Wizard Sean, who was refining his Herbology notes.

“Wizard Sean, clearly, we know less about you than the Daily Prophet.”

Hermione said reproachfully, holding up the freshly delivered newspaper, which, besides reporting on Hagrid’s exploits, also devoted a full section to this new shop:

“Sold Out in Hours! A Series Worthy of Inclusion by the Ministry of Magic!”

“This report is overblown… the author is Rita?”

“Come on, do you remember? She just called Armando an idiot.”

Ron exclaimed in disbelief; Rita had mocked even Hogwarts’ headmaster to his face—hard to imagine what mindset drove her to write such extravagant praise.

Justin pulled out his own copy of the newspaper and instantly spotted the overblown passage Ron mentioned:

“Green’s Bookshop sold ten times more books in eight hours than other shops sold in twenty-four!”

Rita’s comparison was between Green’s Bookshop’s eight hours of operation and the combined total of twenty-four hours—operating and non-operating—of all other bookstores.

On that basis, she arrived at an even more absurd figure.

Of course, it was precisely this kind of skewed perspective that allowed Rita to crown Green’s Bookshop as the finest bookstore in the entire British magical world.

While the group was immersed in reading, Bai Yi arrived carrying a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Wizard Sean extended his hand; Bai Yi landed on his palm. He tapped his right wand lightly, and a stream of pumpkin juice, bacon bits, and small toast cubes floated onto Bai Yi’s unique golden-trimmed dish.

Only after the snowy messenger had shed its weariness did Wizard Sean turn to the Daily Prophet.

“Will Green’s Bookshop be the finest bookstore in the magical world? Of course! Undeniably so!

Reporter Rita Skeeter sincerely explains to you…”

Seeing this exaggerated content, Wizard Sean quickly put it away, but his thoughts drifted.

Since Green’s Bookshop opened, his alchemical notes finally had a place to be published…

“I’m not surprised.”

Hermione, of course, had just remembered something; she lifted her head.

“Rita is someone who always flatters.”

“Why would Rita flatter Wizard Sean?”

Ron muttered, then suddenly jerked his head up, staring at Wizard Sean with an unusually strange look.

Wizard Sean… was the one universally recognized by the International Alchemy Convention Joint Committee as the most gifted alchemist in the past six hundred years…

And the youngest member ever admitted to the International Alchemy Convention Joint Committee, the second Hogwarts student ever to receive the International Alchemy Convention’s Gold Medal for Groundbreaking Contribution.

Dumbledore himself was five years older when he received that award!

At this age, in so many ways, Wizard Sean has surpassed Headmaster Dumbledore.

Years of close companionship had made Ron forget—Wizard Sean was still a major celebrity.

“Hermione, look.”

Justin was always calmer and more thoughtful than the rest; now he pointed to Rita Skeeter’s name.

“What’s this? You mean…”

Hermione suddenly understood, her hand freezing mid-air as she held the newspaper.

For days, they’d been searching for a newspaper willing to expose Lockhart’s true nature—and a reporter capable of grabbing attention, fond of digging into such stories—now the reporter was right in front of them.

In the Great Hall, the chatter never ceased; everyone naturally accepted the fact that Wizard Sean had opened another shop.

After hearing a young wizard had single-handedly slain the basilisk with a sword, nothing else about him could surprise you.

But this was only true for those in Hufflepuff House; in the Great Hall, every table, all four year groups, turned their gazes toward him.

“Mr. Green finally opened a shop—I can finally buy endless copies of Green’s Notes…”

Hannah said shyly but excitedly; the surrounding Hufflepuffs nodded vigorously, clearly unable to agree more.

Green’s Notes had always helped them understand magic; by exam season, just one copy was enough to get any young wizard a passing grade—in any subject.

A divine artifact.

The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were equally excited; as for the Slytherin table—

“It’s just a set of notes…”

Pansy sniffed.

“Buy ten sets!”

Malfoy said, squinting.

Goyle and Crabbe nodded without hesitation.

“Miss Parkinson, you’ll understand.”

Watching Pansy glance over nervously, Malfoy feigned profundity.

…

The Great Hall’s chatter grew increasingly heated; Green’s Bookshop had launched an entirely new series.

Its shop was located right in Hogsmeade Village—upper-year wizards would see it soon.

Thus, young wizards requesting purchases, those trying to sneak out, and curious upper-years all joined the pre-Christmas discussion.

At that moment, Malfoy’s owl brought him another large bundle of sweets from home.

This was common; again, he proudly unpacked them beside the Slytherin table—inside were the complete Green’s Notes series.

Simultaneously, an owl arrived from Neville’s grandmother with a small package.

Neville excitedly opened it and showed it to the curious crowd: a glass sphere the size of a large marble, filled with swirling white mist.

“You know, this is my Memory Ball! Lately I haven’t forgotten much, and Grandma forgot to send it…”

He explained,

“I’ve got to hold it tightly, like this—if it turns red—oh…”

His face instantly lengthened as the Memory Ball suddenly glowed bright red,

“…I’ve forgotten something again…”

Neville strained to recall what he’d forgotten; the Memory Ball slid along the table to Wizard Sean’s side.

Wizard Sean gently picked it up—but something strange happened: the Memory Ball began to glow red.

Wizard Sean frowned.

“You mean you’ve set up dozens of plans on your plan map, and now you’ve forgotten one or two?!”

Ron and Harry stared in disbelief,

“Wizard Sean, take a break.”

They said in unison.

But Wizard Sean held the Memory Ball quietly; the red mist within churned.

“Neville, your Memory Ball.”

He silently handed it back to Neville, then turned and left the Great Hall.

“Oh, oh, thank you…”

Neville carefully took the ball and stared at the retreating back of the young wizard.

He could feel it—Wizard Sean had shown confusion, something almost never seen on him before.

As Wizard Sean passed through the entrance hall, he saw Mr. Filch standing just inside the main door, checking a long list, eyes sharply scanning every face to prevent anyone unauthorized from slipping out.

Mr. Filch’s double chin quivered:

“Annoying! Annoying! Here we go again—those blasted wizards going to Hogsmeade to buy stink pellets, hiccup powder, and shrieking sprites…”