Chapter 488: Bookworm

“What are your names?”

The ticket seller suddenly fell silent and asked.

Seán was about to answer when Harry shook his head at him.

Harry’s mind was flooded with a thousand thoughts.

After all, they had just used powerful magic, meaning they were nearly expelled from Hogwarts.

The only strange thing was, why hadn’t the Ministry of Magic come rushing over to arrest them for such a serious violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery?

Could Seán’s “grandpa’s wand” really have such power?

Would switching wands make the Ministry allow them to cast magic in front of Muggles?

Harry vaguely felt it wasn’t like that.

He dared not gamble on whether the Ministry would come, so he thought staying anonymous was certainly no bad idea.

“My name is Neville, Neville Longbottom.”

Harry said, winking hard at Seán.

“Alright, now I’m Justin, Justin Finch-Fletchley.”

Seán guessed Harry’s intention in a single second.

He didn’t explain, because soon, the Minister for Magic, Fudge, would explain for them.

“What do you mean—now you’re called?”

The ticket seller Stan pressed.

“It means I changed my name. Don’t you understand?”

Harry said without thinking, then quickly boarded the bus.

Up close, he saw that Stan Sampson was hardly older than him—maybe eighteen or nineteen—with large, flapping ears and a few acne spots on his face.

“So—so this bus—”

Harry rushed on, hoping to distract Stan,

“You said it can go anywhere?”

“That’s right,”

Stan said proudly,

“Anywhere on land. Underwater won’t work. By the way,”

his face darkened with suspicion again, “you were the one who signaled us to stop, weren’t you? Mr. Justin, you raised your wand, didn’t you?”

"You were the one who signaled us to stop, weren't you? Mr. Jia Jia Siting, you raised your wand, didn't you?"

Seán, you’re Justin now.”

Harry immediately prodded Seán, who had just sat down and pulled out a book—he seemed not to have heard Stan calling him.

Seeing Stan’s suspicion rising again, Harry hurried on:

“How much to London?”

“Eleven Sickles,”

Stan replied in a businesslike tone,

“Pay fourteen and you get chocolate; pay fifteen and you get a hot water bottle and a toothbrush—any color you like.”

Harry rummaged through his trunk, pulled out his money pouch, and shoved several silver coins into Stan’s hand.

He was about to tell Seán he’d paid for both of them when he saw a dozen silver Sickles floating toward them.

“Thank you—here’s your chocolate—”

Stan looked left and right, but saw no one waving a wand.

Finally, his gaze locked onto the young wizard quietly reading.

The moment he looked at Stan, the chocolate floated over.

“Wandless magic—I’ve never learned this—I knew the professor must’ve held back something!”

"Wandless casting—I never learned that—so the professor must have held back something!"

“Yeah, that’s Seán.”

Harry looked proudly pleased.

“Wait, you mean… he’s not called Justin?”

Stan suddenly fixed his eyes on Harry.

Harry felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him, but Stan didn’t seem focused on the name Justin.

“Seán—you just said Seán, right? Mr. Seán Green? The Mr. Green who wrote the Seven Green Notes, including *Green Notes: History of Magic*, *History of Magical Positions*, and *Green Notes: Standardized Spells*?”

"You just said Wizard Sean, didn't you? Mr. Wizard Sean Green, that Mr. Green?"

"Mr. Green, who wrote the seven volumes of Green's Notes, including Green's Notes: History of Magic, History of Magical Positions, and Green's Notes: Standards of Charms?"

Harry sighed in relief, muttering.

“Mr. Green! Merlin, what an honor to meet you!

I never imagined you’d be so young!

—Oh, I love your *Green Notes: Standardized Spells*! I learned sixteen spells from it!”

Stan burst out, rushing into the bus. Harry watched his back, silently lifted his trunk, and boarded the bus—Hedwig’s cage sat atop the trunk.

There were no seats; along the curtained windows stood six or seven brass-framed beds.

Candles burned on brackets beside each bed, lighting the wooden walls.

Near the rear, a small wizard wearing a nightcap muttered:

“Thanks, not now—I’m pickling some snails.”

He rolled over in his sleep.

Harry didn’t know where to sit, so he walked toward Stan, who was still talking excitedly, and Seán, who listened with interest.

“You standardized wand gestures and incantations—I mean, you had no idea how many bizarre pronunciations we had.

Your notes ran comparative experiments on those strange pronunciations and gestures—yes!

That’s what you said in the book, right? Comparative experiments?”

Stan chattered on.

"You said this in your book, didn't you—the controlled experiment?"

Harry wanted to sit down.

“Don’t interrupt me, sleep on this bed.”

Stan quickly assigned Harry a spot.

Harry could only sigh and obediently walked toward the bed.

“Ah, yes, comparative experiments—I remember. You also classified spell progression.

To be honest, I’ve mastered ten *Proficient*-level spells!

I’ve never experienced anything like this at Hogwarts…

You can’t imagine how a clumsy wizard who graduated and ended up as a ticket seller could achieve this in just six months—

That’s why I decided to apply for a job at Green’s Bookshop—I heard your shopkeeper is an excellent wizard…”

As Stan spoke, his eyes grew moist.

“I don’t know how to thank you… no one ever taught me this. I thought the magical world only cared about gifted wizards.”

His words left Seán stunned and at a loss:

“Do you remember the epigraph on the cover of *Green Notes: Standardized Spells*?”

His words left Wizard Sean momentarily stunned and at a loss for words:

“How could I forget—‘Dedicated to every soul who believes in magic; the door to magic opens for every wizard who believes in it.’”

Stan sniffled.

“For a wizard like you to read those notes, I believe they’ve found their home.”

Seán said.

Now Stan’s eyes were fully red.

“Oh, Seán is always like this.”

Harry watched them, then pushed his trunk under the bed behind the driver—the driver sat in a rocking chair beside the steering wheel.

“Hello, lad. I’m the driver, Earn Plank.”

Harry watched them as he shoved the trunk beneath the bunk behind the driver, who sat in a wingback chair at the steering wheel.

He was an elderly wizard, wearing thick glasses.

“Drive on, Earn.”

The voice came from Seán’s side—Stan, still covering his face, sat down in the chair beside Earn.

Another deafening *thump*, and Harry found himself lying flat on his back on the bed.

The voice came from Wizard Sean’s side; Stan, covering his face, sat down in the armchair beside Earn.

Another deafening bang, and then Harry found himself lying on his back on the bed.