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Chapter 58: Nimbus 1500
🕑 Added 2025-10-31 02:05:19 +0000 UTCChapter 58: Nimbus 1500
Sometimes, Sean thought wizards were just barbarians in robes.
This particular reflection was prompted by a painting hanging beneath the spectator stands: "Gunter the Violent is the Winner." It depicted a scene from the ancient German game Stichstock, a rather famous (or infamous) piece of wizarding art. The painting showed a group of wizards wielding sharpened broomsticks, circling another wizard tied by a rope around his waist to a large, inflated bladder. The central wizard had to use magic to fend off the attackers and protect the bladder from being punctured.
If that alone wasn't enough to cement Sean's opinion, the truly baffling part was the bladder itself: it belonged to a dragon. This implied that for every game played, a dragon lost its… well. Sean suspected the whole thing might have been an elaborate wizarding boast, a way to display dominance and martial prowess, much like Muggle hunters mounting animal heads on their walls. Still, the wizarding preoccupation with bladders was undeniably odd.
Beneath the northern stands hung another painting, this one depicting the once-popular Irish game of Creaothceann, a frequent subject of Irish wizarding folk songs. The legendary wizard Fingal the Fearless was shown as the game's champion. Competitors strapped cauldrons to their heads, then took turns catching the Dom (a heavy ball, originally a goat's bladder) as it was launched through a series of flaming barrels suspended high on stilts. The winner was the one who caught the Dom the most times without setting their head on fire.
And beneath the western stands, a painting showed the Swedish game Shuntbumps. Players rode their brooms backwards, using the bristly end to bat an inflated pig's bladder back and forth over a hedge, scoring points when their opponent missed.
Undoubtedly, all these various bladders were ceremoniously popped at the end of each game. Sean shuddered, grateful this particular tradition hadn't survived. Modern Quidditch would be considerably more… explosive… if it included audience participation via ruptured organs.
The images of bladder-based sports faded behind him as Sean reached the broom shed. A peculiar enchantment seemed to hang over the structure; he could see raindrops falling slowly towards the roof, yet none ever splashed inside.
"Madam Hooch." Sean approached the grey-haired witch, anticipation bubbling within him.
"Punctuality is an admirable trait, Mr. Green," Madam Hooch said briskly. With a flick of her wrist, a broomstick leaped into her hand. "We have much to cover today. See those tall posts?" She gestured towards the Quidditch goals. "They will be the focus of our training."
Sean mirrored her gesture, and his own broom jumped obediently into his hand. He followed her gaze towards the towering hoops. The synchronicity of their movements made him look like a miniature version of the stern instructor.
Soon, the two figures, one large and one small, were hovering near the golden poles.
"Now that you've mastered basic hovering and straight flight, why not attempt some sharp turns?" Madam Hooch's voice cut clearly through the whistling wind, likely amplified by magic.
Under her direction, Sean spent the next hour weaving around the goalposts. Her standard was exacting: "Even at top speed, your turning radius around the pole must not exceed three feet. Master it from every angle."
It was an incredibly difficult goal, especially considering this was only his third day on a broom. But magic didn't care about reasonable expectations. It cared about talent.
[You have practiced Flying once to the Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
[You have practiced Flying once to the Adept standard. Proficiency +10]
[You have practiced Flying once to the Expert standard. Proficiency +50]
The Panel chimed relentlessly. Guided by instinct, Sean's movements grew sharper, more efficient. He subconsciously began adjusting his posture, finding the most aerodynamic and energy-saving positions. His connection to the broom deepened; he could feel the subtle interplay between his will, his magic, and the charms woven into the wood. He was beginning to truly grasp the secret to mastering flight.
He remembered Madam Hooch's words: Truly skilled flyers command their brooms. That command, he realized, might extend beyond flying. Perhaps to Potions as well… He recalled the strange resonance he'd felt within the cauldron when using Borage's modified ritual. Could potion-brewing, like flying, also involve guiding the inherent magic within the vessel and ingredients?
Just as this thought surfaced, he hit a plateau in his turning practice. The old school broom beneath him felt sluggish, unresponsive. He could sense inconsistencies in the underlying charms, minor flaws in the complex enchantments that hindered precise control. It reminded him, absurdly, of poorly written code from his past life – a tangled mess that somehow still functioned. How is this thing even staying airborne? Magic truly is versatile.
"Astonishing progress!" Madam Hooch landed lightly beside him, taking his broom and guiding it gently towards a separate storage rack reserved for the better school brooms. "You're planning to fly back to Ravenclaw Tower, aren't you?"
Sean looked up, surprised, then understood. He wasn't the first Ravenclaw to have that idea; the tower's notorious height was legendary. The long climb was known to fray even the most scholarly tempers. Late at night, the spiral staircases reportedly echoed with students' creative curses directed at their lofty accommodation.
"Every year, quite a few Ravenclaws put in extra practice on the pitch," Madam Hooch continued, a knowing glint in her hawk-like eyes. "But very, very few ever earn a flying permit…"
Sean felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. Madam Hooch elaborated on the rarity of the permit – granted perhaps only once every few years – but frustratingly omitted the specific requirements for obtaining one.
As he was leaving the pitch, however, she pressed a folded piece of parchment into his hand. Sean scanned it quickly, memorizing the contents:
Hogwarts Flying Permit Application Requirements (First Year)
Mastery of at least ten standard flying maneuvers.
Endorsement from the Hogwarts Flying Instructor.
Successful completion of the official Flight Test.
Possession of a personal broomstick of Nimbus 1500 quality or higher (Regulation updated 1990).
Sean tucked the parchment carefully into his bag, nestling it beside his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. The path was clear now, but the final requirement weighed heavily on him. A Nimbus 1500… that was going to be difficult.
