Chapter 59: 59: The Owl Letter

Sheen understood the necessity of this.

On the pitch, a flying broom is also known as a wizard's comrade.

For a first-year novice who has just learned to fly, an old and outdated broom is undoubtedly a massive hindrance, and could even be dangerous.

The manual craftsmanship of a flying broom determines its upper and lower limits to an extreme degree.

Expensive brooms, such as the Nimbus 2000, feature not only a unique braking system but also include the high patent fees for braking charms, allowing for rapid starts and stops. Furthermore, the intricate and exquisite alchemy within supports three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turns.

As for the broom Sheen was riding, if he dared to attempt such a maneuver, it would undoubtedly disintegrate in mid-air—a fact clearly stated in the instruction manuals issued by Comet Soaps and Trading.

【As you can see, this is a training broom. For the price of thirty Galleons, what more do you expect it to do?】

Sheen felt that Randolph Cage and Basil Horton, the company's directors, were not entirely wrong.

Perhaps in the eyes of most other young wizards, this wouldn't be considered an issue. After all, the price of a Nimbus 1500 isn't considered high, and the Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley supports delivery to Hogwarts. With just a letter, most young wizards' parents would be more than happy to do so.

But Sheen... if someone were to send him a letter, it would be a miracle.

This also meant that Sheen's plan to fly into the Ravenclaw Tower would have to be temporarily shelved until he was able to leave the school.

At noon, the Quidditch pitch was soaked in a nearly luxurious sunlight. The sky was a clear, pure blue, with a few wisps of thin clouds scattered like white paint.

Sheen hesitated before asking his last question before leaving

"Madam Hooch, if I cannot leave the school, what should I..."

"Oh, Mr. Green, I don't think that will be a problem for you,"

Madam Hooch handed a towel to Sheen and wiped away the droplets falling from the roof of the changing hut.

"Train hard, Mr. Green, and that is the least of your worries."

With that, she strode away, broom in hand.

She left a bewildered Sheen standing there.

***

The Corridor.

A knight in a portrait was gulping down strong liquor, the massive intoxication turning his cheeks bright red. He carried an oversized sword, and his knees were covered in grass stains from falling.

Seemingly drunk, he was still shouting

"Every Headmaster of Hogwarts... oh, Violet, you must know, Phineas Nigellus Black was an evil, foolish idiot! Armando Dippet was a mediocre man who couldn't judge character! Dumbledore is quite excellent, but a knight's faith prevents me from lying—he is a..."

These sudden, dangerous words shocked Sheen. Was the drunken Sir Cadogan really this brave?

It wasn't just him; wizards seemed to possess a strange, reckless temperament.

"Sir, if you finish speaking, I suspect that tomorrow, only you or the sun will be able to appear," he reminded him kindly.

"Oh, little Green..."

Hearing the reminder, Sir Cadogan seemed to sober up slightly. His face remained flushed, but his voice grew much quieter.

"I mean, Dumbledore is a Headmaster who... satisfies all wizards simultaneously."

"Sir Cadogan, is that truly so?"

Mrs. Violet, wearing a white underskirt, blinked, clearly skeptical.

Bypassing the noisy portraits, Sheen silently moved aside the painting of the Drunken Monk that he had hung there the day before.

The knight had given him quite a bit of advice regarding flying; if his gratitude were to bring an end to the knight's multi-century life, it would seem like the punchline to a certain kind of dark joke.

...

The castle became more familiar by the day; Sheen could even walk into the Great Hall with his eyes closed. Even before entering, he could smell the sweet, enticing aroma of roasted pumpkin wafting through the corridors.

Today's main course consisted of pork chops and Hungarian beef stew, supplemented by a variety of flavored puddings. Sheen didn't need to guess who had improved the recipe.

Just then, the mail arrived.

About a hundred owls suddenly flew into the Great Hall, giving some of the young wizards quite a fright. The owls flew around the dining tables until they found their respective owners, dropping letters or packages onto their laps.

These letters, in turn, sparked curiosity among the students.

While Sheen would not receive any mail, he didn't mind providing some food for the exhausted messengers—young wizards busy reading their letters often overlooked them.

A few owls landed near Sheen. He silently cut off a small piece of toast and quietly watched these sentient animals eat. After a while, these pure white owls would fly back to the Owlery to sleep with the other owls on campus.

And this scene was caught entirely by the tall witch sitting at the professors' table.

"Animals always find the kind children. Sometimes, animals make better choices than wizards, don't they, Minerva?"

The silver hair and beard of the wizard at the head of the table were long and white, and his eyes behind half-moon spectacles shone with deep kindness and humor. He seemed to be talking about the owls, but perhaps he meant more than that.

The older witch remained silent, watching the young wizards receive their letters and excitedly share their joy with their companions—even a box of sweets would be fought over by the students.

Take Seamus, for example. If his friends hadn't saved a few pieces for him, he might have burst into tears.

The young wizard surrounded by owls simply watched these scenes quietly; the surrounding clamor always had nothing to do with him.

***

After leaving the Great Hall, Sheen had to face a new spell—the Summoning Charm, also known as the Accio Charm.

It was one of the oldest spells in wizarding society, used by wizards centuries ago. Consequently, its explanation was awkward and convoluted, seemingly a fusion of various spellmasters' interpretations. These interpretations did not make it more precise; instead, they made it long and complex, making one feel lost in the descriptions.

It was much like the roundabout way Hermione spoke in the classroom.

Sheen, however, was skilled at experimenting to find the precise parts within these descriptions; at least for him, it allowed him to achieve twice the result with half the effort.

In the classroom, Sheen specifically took a quill out of his bag to practice on it. However... he didn't seem to see clearly...

"Concentrate, keep the properties of the object in mind... Accio—Quill!"

The quill trembled slightly, but there was no further reaction.

"That pulling motion—the wizard's palm should be facing upward when using it..."

A voice broke Sheen's train of thought.

Hermione pushed the door open and walked in, clutching a large stack of books.

"Accio—Quill!"

She waved her wand, but the quill still remained motionless.

Thus, the number of people pondering increased to two.

They flipped through different books until Justin pushed the door open

"Oh, Sheen, Hermione... are you practicing on a quill lollipop?"

(End of Chapter)