Chapter 51: Golden Legend

“Excellent! Mr. Green, loop a few more times, upward! Make your broom rise!”

Madame Hooch’s hawk-like eyes instantly locked onto Wizard Sean.

As she helped the fallen young wizards back to their feet, she enthusiastically guided Wizard Sean, her enthusiasm long dormant.

“Lean forward, slightly lift your legs back, and finally—look up!”

Wizard Sean shot through the sky like a meteor, not blazing fast but smooth and practiced.

He moved as if he had spent years honing his craft on a Quidditch pitch.

The other young Hufflepuffs still practicing instinctively looked up at the nimble hawk.

Then glared resentfully at their own disobedient brooms.

The flying lesson ended quickly; Wizard Sean landed on the grass, pale-faced.

His stamina had long since hit its limit, but each time, a faint warmth would surge through his body, sustaining him in this hard-won freedom.

When he checked his panel, he froze for a moment:

【Name: Wizard Sean Green】

【Title: Flight Apprentice】

【Slightly increases perception of broom magic, slightly enhances flight talent】

【Wizard Wizard Sean, Flight Talent: Gold. Note: Average wizards are Green.】

Advancement: Basic Flight Skills unlocked; can now unlock the Entry-Level title in the Flight domain

【Evaluation: You are a once-in-ten-thousand genius in flight. Your broom obeys you like a loyal dog. With your extraordinary will, you are destined to become the greatest Quidditch player of the century.】

Gold… Golden Legend?!

Wizard Sean held his breath.

Wait,

“Extraordinary will”… what did that mean?

“Alright, everyone, you may leave the pitch. And you reckless young wizards—remember this lesson!”

Madame Hooch scanned the field; the young wizards nodded meekly.

Seeing their flying instructor’s crooked robe and messy hair, some blushed with shame over their own embarrassing falls.

“Mr. Green, stay behind.”

Wizard Sean, still lost in thought, automatically nodded.

“Oh, child…”

After the group departed, Madame Hooch hurried over.

“You have many questions, don’t you?”

“Yes, Madame Hooch. I’d like to know—is a wizard’s will what determines flight talent?”

Wizard Sean carefully voiced his question.

“Clever little hawk. Yes. Most wizards merely ride their brooms. But for a select few…”

Madame Hooch suddenly raised her hand; the broom instantly flew into her grasp.

“They command their brooms.”

…

After leaving the pitch, Wizard Sean still echoed Madame Hooch’s crisp words in his mind:

“If you observe Quidditch athletes closely, you’ll notice most are tall.

Some believe only tall wizards can compete—but that’s not entirely true.

When stimulated, a wizard’s magic becomes more vibrant, and this vitality usually improves their physical condition.”

With that, Madame Hooch patted Wizard Sean’s shoulder and left the pitch.

What could be more thrilling than riding a broom through the sky?

Wizard Sean thought.

It was like how playing basketball made you grow taller.

So Wizard Sean added one more task to his list: practice flying—even if just to improve his physique.

…

Flying lessons and Quidditch had always been enduring topics among young wizards.

Today, they added one more name to their chatter: a prodigy.

“Wizard Sean, they’re saying you’re a Quidditch prospect,”

Jia Jia Siting laughed at his own words.

“But you’ve never even touched the magical world before—oh, I bet Ernie fell off his broom and knocked himself senseless, forgetting that.”

In the Charms classroom,

Michael had somehow taken a seat to Wizard Sean’s right:

“Wizard Sean, if I make you my master, could you teach me flying? Master…”

“Brooms are powered by charms. When you perceive the charms within, you can Making Guide them with a sliver of magic…”

Wizard Sean cut off Michael’s excessive honorifics and explained his understanding seriously.

But Michael and the circle of listening young wizards, after hearing the second sentence, looked as if they’d been handed a divine scripture—intelligence fading, eyes growing vacant.

Michael and his two companions, along with Jia Jia Siting, had already prepared feather quills and scribbled notes.

The others, upon hearing: “Use magic weaker than the faintest to Making Guide the turning charm, slightly stronger to Making Guide the braking charm…”

Gave up on eavesdropping entirely.

Only Michael, while writing, muttered:

“Perceiving charms, guiding faint magic… sounds like some mysterious alchemy…”

This caused Wizard Sean to fall silent—not only because Professor Flitwick had just entered the classroom,

But also because of the swirling thoughts in his mind.

If awakening magical power improves a wizard’s physical condition,

Could physical weakness similarly hinder the awakening—or even the nurturing—of magical power?

Was that why he struggled to cast spells and brew potions? Because his magic level was too low?

Like little Barty Crouch once said:

“Avada Kedavra requires immense magical power as a foundation… You weaklings? You’d barely make me bleed from the nose.”

Wizard Sean might be the same—he lacked the normal magical capacity to cast spells,

Hence his need for more efficient postures and higher mental focus.

His talent lay below average because his magical level was too low—even strong will couldn’t easily trigger spells.

What about Transfiguration?

Wizard Sean speculated: a wizard’s will was also a vital component of magic.

As the branch of magic most expressive of will, Transfiguration placed will at its core—

A dominance no magical level could override.

Finally, flight—

It required almost no high magic level, only guidance.

Understanding his advantage brought a clear shift—

Wizard Sean grew firmer in his assumptions and found new directions.

“Alright, alright, I know flying is thrilling,”

Professor Flitwick possessed a peculiar magic: when he spoke, every young wizard—Slytherins included—looked at him with respect and attention.

“If you haven’t forgotten the Floating Charm’s technique, why not make your feather float—like riding a broom—and spin it twice?”

"If you haven't forgotten the technique for the Levitation Charm, why not make the feather before you float up—like riding a broomstick—and spin around twice?"

Jia Jia Siting waved his wand and chanted the incantation.

His feather, as if determined to make up for his earlier flying failure,

Not only rose swiftly but spun elegantly in circles.

“Mr. Finnegan—remarkable progress!”

Everyone heard Professor Flitwick’s high-pitched cry.

Everyone heard Professor Flitwick’s shrill cry.