Justin's words caught Sean off guard.
Out of nowhere, Justin burst into a passionate, rapid-fire speech, like a wind-up toy let loose:
"We could totally let the Hogwarts kids read it for free first! I bet they're already fed up with dull History of Magic lessons, Professor Binns' rambling lectures, and those ridiculously long essays!"
He grew even more excited, his voice rising:
"If we get good feedback, we could reach out to publishers! Think about it—students at more than just one wizarding school would want these!"
Sean didn't reply right away. He knew publishing a book was a long and winding road.
"My notes aren't complete," Sean said softly. He studied History of Magic for its own sake, and even if Justin's idea had some potential, it wouldn't change his study plans.
He'd stick to his schedule and finish organizing his History of Magic notes.
Still, if something profitable came out of it, that wouldn't be half bad.
"Alright, alright," Justin said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "But once you finish those notes, you'll let me try selling them to the other students, right?"
Sean gave a small nod.
---
Hogwarts was buzzing more than usual that Monday. The corridors, classrooms, and common rooms were alive with young witches and wizards chattering excitedly about something.
Sean found it all a bit puzzling but didn't feel the need to dig deeper. He was on his way to a secluded classroom.
As he walked down the corridor, he heard a cough. Looking up, he spotted Sir Cadogan.
The knight had tied straw around himself, attempting to blend into a charming oil painting of a rice field, posing as a scarecrow. But he'd forgotten to remove his armor—and his sword.
Hogwarts' portraits often wandered between frames, sometimes acting as if they were no different from the furniture. What could be more fun than a game to see who could disguise themselves as another painting the longest?
Sadly, Sir Cadogan was terrible at this game. Once, he'd tried mimicking Lady Violet, sitting in her frame and wearing her hat while speaking in a comically high-pitched voice.
It was, perhaps, as absurd as Professor Snape in a dress.
Cough, cough—
Another cough. Sean, exasperated, tore off a piece of parchment, scribbled Sir Cadogan in bold letters, and stuck it on the painting.
"Oh—young Green! You've found me again!" came the knight's wail. "Why don't you go join the others talking about Quidditch instead?"
Sean raised an eyebrow. That was the second time he'd heard Quidditch mentioned.
His curiosity was soon answered. A senior student pushed through a crowd of younger witches and wizards, pinning a gold-edged parchment to the noticeboard. The first-years erupted in cheers—they were starting flying lessons! This Thursday and Friday, no less.
Sean felt a spark of excitement. By the time he reached the practice room, his arms were full of books: Quidditch Through the Ages, The Wonder of Quidditch, The Complete Guide to Flying Brooms, Broomstick Care Handbook, and The Official Quidditch World Cup Guide.
The most famous of the lot was Quidditch Through the Ages. When Sean borrowed it from Madam Pince, she'd grumbled that the book was "manhandled daily, drooled on, and thoroughly mistreated." Sean thought that, for any book, this was high praise. It only made him more eager to dive in.
"Rowena Ravenclaw left behind at Hogwarts—"
"A diadem, a spiral staircase, and a portrait," Sean answered quickly, cutting off Mr. Owl's question and earning a glare as he slipped into the classroom.
"Sean? Are those…?" Justin asked, taking three books from Sean's stack, revealing his bright green eyes.
"Whoa! Quidditch Through the Ages! I heard getting this from Madam Pince is harder than climbing to the moon," Justin said, impressed.
"Huh?" Sean tilted his head.
"Yeah, some kid used it as a pillow and drooled all over it," Hermione explained, rolling her eyes.
"Want to read it together?" Sean asked, setting the book on the table.
Justin's eyes lit up with barely contained excitement as he dragged a stool over. Hermione followed, and soon, three heads were huddled together.
---
"Kennilworthy Whisp's diligent research unveils a true treasure trove of previously unknown facts about this wizarding sport. A captivating read."
—Bathilda Bagshot, author of A History of Magic
The book opened with quotes, including one from Bathilda Bagshot, a name Sean knew well.
"Mr. Whisp has a bright future. If he keeps at it, he might one day get the chance to take a photo with me!"
—Gilderoy Lockhart, author of Magical Me
Sean vaguely recognized Lockhart. Typical thing for him to say. He skipped that part and read on:
"To this day, no spell has been invented that allows witches or wizards to fly in human form without a tool. The rare Animagi who can transform into flying creatures enjoy the thrill, but they're few and far between. A wizard who turns into a bat might soar freely, but with a bat's brain, they'd likely forget where they meant to go. Levitating is common enough, but our ancestors weren't content to hover five feet off the ground. They wanted to fly higher, like birds, without the bother of sprouting feathers."
"Wow, Animagi!" Justin whispered. "I've heard about that magic. Remember? Professor McGonagall's one of them."
"One of only seven registered Animagi in Britain!" Hermione added proudly.
Sean recalled a line: Gryffindor, where courage reigns, our Head can transform… Very fitting.
He kept reading, his green eyes sparkling.
"We take for granted that every wizarding household in Britain owns at least one broom, but how often do we stop to ask why? Why has the humble broom become the legally sanctioned mode of wizard transport? Why don't we Westerners use the flying carpets so beloved by our Eastern counterparts? Why not flying buckets, chairs, or bathtubs—why brooms?"