Chapter 43: The Magical Quidditch Ball

Justin’s words stunned Wizard Sean.

Unexpectedly, Justin suddenly burst into enthusiastic speech, spilling out words like a machine:

“We could let Hogwarts students read them for free first,

I’m sure everyone’s been thoroughly worn down by boring Magical History, Binns’s vague lectures, and those terrifyingly long Magical History essays!”

He went on, even more excitedly:

“If the feedback is good, we can contact publishers to print them—think about it, students from more than just one magical school will need them!”

Wizard Sean didn’t answer immediately; he knew that book distribution and publication were long processes.

“The notes aren’t complete.”

Wizard Sean said softly; he studied Magical History only for the subject itself,

even if Justin’s idea had some feasibility, it wouldn’t alter his own study plan.

But if it could generate other benefits, that wouldn’t be bad.

“Alright, alright, but once you finish the notes, at least let me try promoting them among the students?”

Justin’s voice dropped significantly, filled with sincere pleading.

Wizard Sean nodded.

…

Monday at Hogwarts was far noisier than usual,

in hallways, classrooms, common rooms—students could be seen everywhere, enthusiastically discussing something.

Wizard Sean found it all puzzling, but had no intention of investigating further;

he was heading toward the hidden classroom.

In the hallway, Wizard Sean suddenly heard a cough,

looked up, and saw Sir Cadogan—

he had tied himself to straw, trying to disguise himself as a scarecrow within a beautiful rice field painting.

But he forgot to take off his armor or remove his sword.

Hogwarts portraits often moved about; sometimes they felt no different from furniture.

So what better way to pass the time than seeing who could impersonate another portrait the longest?

Unfortunately, Sir Cadogan was always terrible at such disguises.

Imagine him once imitating Lady Violet, sitting in her frame, wearing her hat and speaking in a ridiculous high voice.

It was much like Professor Snape’s cross-dressing.

“Cough—cough—”

Wizard Sean heard the cough again, helplessly tore off a page, wrote “Sir Cadogan” in five large letters, and stuck it to the portrait.

“Oh—Little Green! You found me again!

How sad—why don’t you go join them discussing Quidditch?”

Wizard Sean heard a wail.

“Oh—dear Sir Cadogan, you didn’t even last three minutes—pathetic, looks like you owe me another bottle of firewhiskey!”

Then came a teasing female voice.

Wizard Sean turned his head in confusion; this was the second time he’d heard the word “Quidditch.”

But his confusion was quickly resolved.

In the hallway, a senior wizard pushed through the crowd of younger students and pinned a parchment with golden trim to the notice board.

First-year students erupted in cheers—they’d be having Flying lessons!

This Thursday and Friday.

After reading it, Wizard Sean felt a flicker of anticipation himself,

which directly led to him arriving at the practice room with several books in his arms:

The Quidditch Through the Ages, A History of Magic, The Complete Book of Flying Brooms, The Flying Broom Care Manual, The Official Quidditch World Cup Making Guide.

The most widely known of these was A History of Magic.

When he took the book from Mrs. Pince,

Mrs. Pince told Wizard Sean,

“This book is constantly being clumsily flipped through, drooled on, and mistreated every single day.”

Wizard Sean thought, for any book, this was praise.

Thus his interest in it grew stronger.

“Rowena Ravenclaw left behind at Hogwarts—”

“The Diadem, the moving staircase, the portraits.”

Wizard Sean answered slightly ahead of Owl Master, then entered the classroom under Owl Master’s glare.

“Wizard Sean? What are these in your hands…?”

Justin took three books from him, letting Wizard Sean’s emerald eyes reappear.

“Whoa! A History of Magic! I heard it’s harder to get this book from Mrs. Pince than to climb to the moon!”

Justin exclaimed in surprise.

“Hm?”

Wizard Sean was puzzled.

“Some students actually use it as a pillow—ended up drooling all over it.”

Hermione explained, slightly exasperated.

“Want to read it together?”

Wizard Sean placed the book on the table.

Justin’s longing could no longer be contained—he pulled his chair over first, then Hermione followed.

Three small heads huddled together.

[Kennilworthy Whisp’s diligent research has uncovered the true treasure trove of previously unknown facts about this wizarding sport. A captivating book.

—Bathilda Bagshot, author of A History of Magic]

Opening the book, Wizard Sean saw introductory quotes—the wizard who wrote them was the familiar Bathilda Bagshot.

[Mr. Whisp has a brilliant future. If he keeps up the good work, one day he may even have the chance to pose for a photo with me!

—Gilderoy Lockhart, author of Magical Me]

This was Gilderoy Lockhart, whom Wizard Sean barely recognized,

yes, it was exactly the sort of thing he’d say.

So Wizard Sean skipped this section and continued reading:

[So far, wizards have not invented any spell

that allows them to fly in human form without tools,

so they tried many methods, all of which failed.

A few rare Animagi could enjoy flight, but they were exceedingly rare.

Later wizards transformed themselves into bats.]

“Bats?”

This was clearly unexpected,

Justin gasped aloud.

The three continued reading curiously, though they already knew

that if turning into bats worked, brooms would never have been invented.

[This was proven foolish: wizards who transformed into bats could fly freely,

but with bat heads, they inevitably forgot where they were going while flying.

Floating aimlessly in midair became commonplace.]

Continuing further,

Wizard Sean’s emerald eyes suddenly brightened.

[We now take for granted that every British wizarding household owns at least one broom, yet we rarely pause to ask ourselves:

Why?

Why has this humble broom, as a wizarding vehicle, become a legally sanctioned object?

Why don’t we Westerners use flying carpets, so beloved by our Eastern brethren?

Why not flying barrels, flying chairs, flying bathtubs—why the broom?]