Chapter 44: The Wizard

“Merlin, why is this? Because it’s strange?”

Justin’s pale gray eyes revealed confusion.

At that moment, a strong gust of wind came from the window, shaking the magical lantern hanging on Justin’s wall.

He poked Wizard Sean and Hermione, rousing them from their reverie.

Hermione frowned slightly, cheeks puffed, about to say something,

when she saw Justin staring in shock, his hand pointing out the window.

Beside the ancient, three-sided wall, a figure shot toward the castle like lightning,

sweeping past the open fan-shaped arch window, stirring a roaring gale,

the broomstick’s tip still glinting in the sunlight.

“Because it’s cool… I get it now.”

Justin’s whisper was carried off by the wind, but the eagerness in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Don’t even think about it, Justin… First-years are strictly forbidden to fly brooms without permission. Haven’t you memorized the school rules?”

Hermione’s quiet words shattered the blond boy’s fantasy.

“Huh?!”

Justin stood frozen like a stump, utterly stunned.

“Don’t tell me you came to school without learning the rules.”

Hermione wasn’t captivated by the older wizard who had just flown by on a broom—she was more concerned with the bewildered little Hufflepuff,

“Good heavens, if you haven’t memorized the rules, how can you possibly avoid breaking them?”

“I didn’t know… I thought Hogwarts wouldn’t be this strict…”

Justin was momentarily speechless,

and instinctively turned to Wizard Sean.

“Wizard Sean, have you memorized the school rules?”

“Yes.”

Wizard Sean’s nod plunged Justin’s gaze into utter gloom.

In fact, to ensure he could stay at Hogwarts, Wizard Sean had memorized the rules backward and forward.

Hermione was right—first-year students were forbidden from flying brooms on their own, but with Madam Hooch’s permission, it was different.

Though few first-years managed it, there was always hope.

“Really… here.”

Hermione placed a brown-covered book with gold trim into Justin’s arms, its pages filled with precise notes,

and the Hufflepuff’s dim eyes brightened again.

He clutched *Hogwarts: A History*, then heard Hermione murmur, “Idiot.”

“Also, wizards don’t use magic brooms just to look cool…”

Hermione turned the page of *Quidditch Through the Ages*,

and the three small heads leaned in together again.

{Throughout history, wizards have understood that

if their Muggle neighbors learned the full extent of their abilities, those Muggles would find ways to exploit them,

so if wizards wished to possess a means of flight in their homes,

such a thing had to be discreet, something easily concealed.

What happened next is well known}

“So they chose brooms?”

Justin hadn’t expected this answer, but quickly nodded in understanding,

“If my neighbor were a wizard, I’d find it hard not to want to know everything about them.”

Afternoon sunlight slanted through the fan-shaped arch window, dividing the small classroom into warm patches of light and shadow,

tiny specks of dust drifted slowly in the beams, like countless miniature golden sprites,

then jerked suddenly.

The trio studying Quidditch were startled—the pounding on the wall came again from outside.

“Oh! It’s Ernie—if he knocks on the adjacent wall, it means he’ll wait for me in the Great Hall.”

Justin snapped back to awareness and quietly called to Wizard Sean,

“It’s about Professor Snape—I had Ernie and the others help out,

after all, Mother said, united strength is always greater.”

Wizard Sean nodded thoughtfully, then the two bid Hermione farewell and left the classroom,

Justin adding:

“Hermione, don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone where the classroom is. After all, it’s our secret!

I promise…”

Hermione, absorbed in her book, seemed unconcerned—only after Wizard Sean and Justin left did

her eyes slightly redden.

In the Great Hall.

A short, chubby blond boy sat restlessly, clutching a book, his eyes constantly drifting toward the door.

“Alright, Finlay told me to wait here—he’ll come. Worrying about that is pointless; better worry about Friday’s flying lesson.”

“Ernie!”

Justin scanned the Great Hall and spotted the boy at the Hufflepuff table.

“Justin!”

The short, chubby boy instantly responded; Justin quickly led Wizard Sean over.

Looking at the not-unfamiliar face, Wizard Sean’s mind flashed with information.

Ernie Macmillan.

A ninth-generation pure-blood Hufflepuff, equally sincere.

He once mistakenly believed Harry was the Heir of Slytherin; after Hermione was petrified, he gradually realized Harry was innocent and publicly apologized to Harry, who accepted his apology.

What impressed Wizard Sean most was during the Battle of Hogwarts,

Professor McGonagall addressing Ernie as a prefect:

“Prefects, upon my command, organize your housemates and lead them orderly to evacuation points.”

Ernie Macmillan replied with rare seriousness:

“What if we want to stay and fight?”

…

Ernie brought good news: Professor Snape was grading assignments and had been in his office for quite some time.

Wizard Sean immediately retrieved the brewing tools and ingredients from the classroom,

and set off for the dungeons.

The reason he had to brew there was that first-year students were not permitted to take cauldrons out of the dungeons,

and if they were, Hogwarts would soon be overrun by explosion experts.

Potions wasn’t a safe subject—just like chemistry experiments must be done in a lab,

such dangerous activities couldn’t be carried out casually.

Thin wisps of white smoke rose again above the cauldron; Wizard Sean’s expression was focused, his hands moving steadily,

and soon the cauldron began to bubble vigorously,

the dungeon now filled only with faint breathing and the gentle boil of the potion.

When Professor Snape left his office and entered the dungeon,

Wizard Sean had already left, satisfied with his three points of proficiency.

Master Libatius Borage was right:

without sufficient mental will, one could not complete an improved ritual.

Since his last potion brewing, Wizard Sean’s exhaustion had persisted,

a weariness that ran deep—from within outward—and according to Master Libatius Borage’s estimate, it would last at least five days.

While waiting for his exhaustion to fully recover, Wizard Sean didn’t idle. If one sentence could accurately describe what he was doing,

it would be:

He was playing hide-and-seek with Professor Snape.