Chapter 58: Nimbus 1500

Sometimes, Wizard Sean felt wizards were just barbarians in robes.

The cause of this thought came from the painting hanging beneath the stands—

“Ganter the Fist” Is the Winner.

It depicted an ancient German pole-ball game, a famous painting.

The scene showed a group of wizards holding sharpened brooms, surrounding a wizard with a rope tied around his waist, the rope leading to a large, inflated “bladder.”

That wizard had to use magic to fend off attacking wizards and protect the bladder behind him from being destroyed.

If that alone weren’t enough to make Wizard Sean think this,

what left him speechless was that the bladder was a dragon’s.

That meant each match cost a dragon its… “bladder.”

Wizard Sean suspected this might be pure wizard-made fiction, meant to display their brute strength and assert dominance over the magical world.

Like some hunters hanging animal skulls on their walls.

Yet wizards’ obsession with bladders was truly strange.

Beneath the northern stands,

hung a painting of Ireland’s once-popular stilts-and-fire-barrel game,

a theme endlessly sung in Irish wizarding ballads.

The legendary wizard “Fearless” Fingal was said to have once been the champion of stilts-and-fire-barrel.

Contestants raced one after another, carrying a “dome”—or ball—through a series of fire-lit wooden barrels suspended high in the air by stilts.

The winner was the one who passed all barrels with the dome intact and without catching fire.

The ball was a sheep’s bladder.

Now consider the painting beneath the western stands: broomstick jousting.

Athletes rode their brooms upside-down, using the bristled ends to strike bladders back and forth between a ring of hedges; hitting the bladder scored points.

They used pig bladders.

Undoubtedly, these bladders were punctured and exploded after each use.

Wizard Sean silently thanked today’s spectators—if this tradition had survived, modern Quidditch might be even more “exciting.”

After all, it added an explosion-based spectator interaction.

The paintings on the stands faded behind him as Wizard Sean reached the broom shed.

A special charm seemed to have been cast here,

allowing Wizard Sean to see raindrops falling slowly from the shed’s roof, yet never splashing inside.

“Madam Hooch.”

Wizard Sean approached the gray-haired lady with anticipation.

“Mr. Green, punctuality is indeed a good habit,”

Madam Hooch waved her hand, and a broom leapt into her grip,

“We have much to do today. See those tall poles? They’re the focus of today’s training.”

Wizard Sean raised his hand, and his broom leapt to him in the same way; together, he and Madam Hooch gazed toward the Quidditch goalposts.

Their identical movements made him look like a miniature version of Madam Hooch.

Soon, the two wizards—tall and small—flew close to the Quidditch goalposts.

“Since you can already hover and fly properly, why not try some sharp turns?”

Madam Hooch’s voice cut clearly through the wind, as if enhanced by magic.

Under her guidance, Wizard Sean made repeated attempts circling the poles,

her requirement being:

“Even at top speed, your turning radius around the pole must not exceed three feet, and you must execute turns from every angle.”

This was undoubtedly a difficult goal.

Remember, this was only Wizard Sean’s third day touching a flying broom.

But magic never cared about logic.

It only cared about talent.

【You practiced flying at an adept standard, proficiency +10】

【You practiced flying at an adept standard, proficiency +10】

【You practiced flying at an expert standard, proficiency +50】

…

Wizard Sean heard the system prompts keep sounding; his movements grew sharper under some instinctive guidance,

and he began unconsciously seeking the most efficient, least strenuous posture.

Meanwhile, his connection with the broom grew stronger—he could almost sense every thread of magical force, guided by his will, flowing through the broom.

That was the true secret to fully mastering a flying broom.

Wizard Sean couldn’t help recalling Madam Hooch’s words:

A true flying wizard doesn’t ride a broom—he commands it.

This command might not be limited to flight alone.

Perhaps it also applies to potions…

Wizard Sean remembered the strange magical sensation he felt while performing the modified ritual in the cauldron,

just like controlling a broom—perhaps brewing potions also required the wizard to Making Guide magical energy?

As he thought this, he hit a bottleneck in his turning control—

the broom beneath him was too old; some enchantments, or combinations of enchantments, were malfunctioning.

Added to that, its complex web of overlapping enchantments

made him think of certain ancient programmer’s spaghetti code.

He couldn’t fathom how this broom still even worked…

Magic was simply too all-encompassing.

“Remarkable progress!”

Madam Hooch took Wizard Sean’s broom, floating it gently toward a separate storage area,

“You plan to fly back to Ravenclaw Tower, correct?”

Wizard Sean looked up, startled, then understood.

He wasn’t the only wizard with that thought—and Ravenclaw Tower was famously tall.

Even Ravenclaw students’ stamina dropped noticeably when climbing stairs.

If you happened to be on the tower’s spiral staircase at night, you’d hear plenty of young wizards offering their “greetings” to the tower.

“Every year, many Ravenclaw students train extra at the Quidditch pitch,

but only a handful ever receive flight permission…”

As Madam Hooch spoke, Wizard Sean grew tense.

Unfortunately, she only vaguely hinted at how rare this permission was—almost once every few years—

but gave no clue on how to obtain it.

As they left the pitch, Madam Hooch held her arms crossed and handed Wizard Sean a parchment.

Wizard Sean memorized it at a glance:

“On Flight Permission for First-Year Wizards at Hogwarts”

—Master at least ten common flying techniques;

—Obtain approval from the Hogwarts Flying Instructor;

—Pass the flight test;

—After passing, possess a broom of at least the Nimbus 1500 quality (updated 1990).

Wizard Sean tucked the parchment into his bag, pressing it against the innermost copy of “Advanced Potion-Making.”

With this document, his goal became clearer—but what weighed on Wizard Sean’s heart was this:

the flight permission explicitly required a Nimbus 1500, an impossible feat.