Chapter 59: Owl Letters

Wizard Sean Green understood the necessity of this requirement.

The flying broomstick, on the Quidditch pitch, is also called a wizard’s comrade.

An old and outdated broomstick, for a first-year novice who had just learned to fly,

was undoubtedly a severe hindrance, even dangerous.

The handcrafted nature of the flying broomstick determined its wide range of quality.

Expensive brooms, such as the Firebolt 2000, not only featured a unique braking system,

but also paid expensive patent fees for the braking charm, enabling rapid acceleration and stopping,

and its intricate alchemical craftsmanship allowed it to perform full three-hundred-sixty-degree turns.

As for the broom Wizard Sean rode, if he dared attempt such a maneuver,

the broom would undoubtedly disintegrate midair—a fact clearly stated in the manual issued by Comet Trading Company.

【As you can see, this is a training broom, priced at thirty Galleons—what else do you expect it to do?】

Wizard Sean thought the company’s managers, Randolph Ketch and Basil Horton, had a point.

Perhaps to most other young wizards, this wasn’t even an issue,

since the Firebolt 1500 wasn’t expensive, and Diagon Alley’s Quidditch specialty shops delivered to Hogwarts.

A single letter was enough for most young wizards’ parents to arrange it.

But Wizard Sean… if anyone were to send him a letter, it would be a miracle.

This meant that, before he could leave school, Wizard Sean’s plan to fly into Ravenclaw Tower would have to be put on hold.

The Quidditch pitch at noon was drenched in an almost luxurious sunlight, the sky a clear, unblemished blue, with a few thin clouds like smudges of white paint.

Wizard Sean hesitated, asking his final question before leaving:

“Madam Hooch, if I can’t leave school, then…”

“Oh, Mr. Green, I think that’s not a problem for you,”

Madam Hooch handed Wizard Sean a towel, wiping away droplets falling from the shed’s roof,

“Train well, Mr. Green—this is the least of your concerns.”

With that, she strode off with the broomstick.

Left standing there, confused, was Wizard Sean.

The corridor.

A knight in a portrait was guzzling strong liquor, the alcohol flushing his cheeks red.

He carried an overly long sword, his knees covered in grass stains.

Seemingly drunk, he was still shouting:

“All headmasters of Hogwarts… oh, Violet, you must know,

Phineas Nigellus Black was an evil, foolish idiot!

Armando Dipper was a blind, incompetent fool!

Dumbledore was quite excellent, but my knightly honor prevents me from lying—he’s a…”

This sudden dangerous remark shocked Wizard Sean deeply,

Was Sir Cadogan really this bold when drunk?

Not just him—wizards seemed to possess a strange reckless streak.

“Sir, if you’re done, I think tomorrow, only one of you or the sun will appear.”

He offered a kind warning.

“Oh, little Green…”

Hearing this, Sir Cadogan seemed to sober up slightly; his face was still red, but his voice grew quieter,

“I mean, Dumbledore is a headmaster who satisfies all wizards.”

“Sir Cadogan, is that really true?”

Lady Violet, dressed in a white underdress, blinked her eyes, clearly unconvinced.

Ignoring the noisy portraits,

Wizard Sean quietly moved aside the painting of the drunken monk he had hung there two days prior.

The knight had given him many flying tips; if his gratitude led to the end of a life spanning centuries,

it would sound like the punchline of some cold joke.

…

The castle was growing more familiar by the day; Wizard Sean could even walk to the Great Hall with his eyes closed.

After all, long before entering the Great Hall, the sweet, tempting scent of roasted pumpkin drifted through the corridors.

Today’s main dishes were pork chops and Hungarian goulash, with many flavors of pudding added—Wizard Sean didn’t need to guess who had improved the recipe.

Just then, the mail arrived.

Dozens of owls suddenly flew into the Great Hall, startling several young wizards.

The owls circled the tables until they found their owners, dropping letters or packages onto their laps.

These letters, in turn, sparked curiosity among the young wizards.

Though Wizard Sean would not receive any mail, he had no objection to offering food to the weary messengers—

young wizards often ignored them while engrossed in their letters.

A few owls landed beside Wizard Sean; he quietly sliced off a small piece of toast and watched, silent, as these sentient creatures ate.

After a while, the pure white owls would fly back to the Owlery, sleeping alongside the other owls on campus.

And this scene,

was observed in full by the tall witch at the staff table.

“Animals always find the kind-hearted children. Sometimes, animals make better choices than wizards, don’t they, Minerva?”

The wizard at the head table had long, silver hair and beard; behind his half-moon spectacles, his eyes held deep kindness and humor.

He seemed to be speaking of owls—but perhaps not only of them.

The elderly cat-witch remained silent, watching as the young wizards received their letters and excitedly shared their joy with friends—

even a box of sweets could spark a frenzy among them.

Take Seamus, for example.

If his friends hadn’t saved him a few candies, he might have cried.

Meanwhile, the young wizard surrounded by owls simply watched these scenes in quiet stillness; the surrounding noise always left him untouched.

After leaving the Great Hall,

Wizard Sean faced a new spell—the Summoning Charm, also called the Accio Charm.

It was one of the oldest spells in wizarding society, used by wizards for centuries.

Thus, its explanation was convoluted and elaborate, seemingly a fusion of interpretations from countless spellmasters.

These interpretations did not make it more precise; instead, they made it longer and more complex, leaving one lost in the descriptions.

Like the roundabout explanation Hermione had given in class.

But Wizard Sean excelled at testing these descriptions to isolate the precise elements— at least for him, this method yielded twice the results.

In class, Wizard Sean deliberately took out a quill from his bag to practice with it,

but… he seemed to have missed something…

“Focus your mind, remember the object’s properties…

Accio—Quill!”

The quill trembled slightly, but nothing more happened.

“The pulling motion—when casting, the wizard’s palm should face upward…”

A voice interrupted Wizard Sean’s thoughts.

Hermione entered, arms full of heavy books,

“Accio—Quill!”

She waved her wand, yet the quill remained motionless.

Now, two people were lost in thought.

They flipped through different books until Justin pushed the door open:

“Oh, Wizard Sean, Hermione… are you practicing with a quill candy?”