A burst of wind roared through the storeroom.
Vincent raised his wand high.
A swirling gust erupted from its tip, sending loose parchment and open books fluttering across the room.
The shelves rattled as the pages rustled noisily in the artificial breeze.
“Vincent!”
Neville, who was sitting amid a mountain of parchment, clapped enthusiastically.
“You learned the Gusting Charm!”
“That’s incredible!”
“You’ve only been studying magic for a month!”
“I’ve heard from my relatives that most first-year students spend almost an entire semester learning that spell.”
“They still have to cram before the final exam and hope they can manage to blow the professor’s wig off the practice stand.”
Vincent lowered his wand with a smile.
“It’s thanks to your grandmother.”
During the past month, although he had never met Augusta Longbottom in person, he had heard countless pieces of advice beginning with ‘My grandmother says…’
Once the colorful insults—such as ‘you little troll,’ ‘blockhead,’ or ‘Merlin preserve my patience’—were mentally removed, Augusta’s guidance proved remarkably practical.
Her explanations were concise.
Logical.
And surprisingly insightful.
Thanks to her experience, Vincent’s progress in spellcasting had accelerated dramatically.
Not only had he mastered every first-year Transfiguration spell, but he had also become proficient in several basic utility charms.
Neville scratched his head.
“If it’s all because of Grandma…”
“Then why can’t I learn as quickly?”
Holding A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration, he frowned.
“Vincent…”
“I still don’t understand the Shrinking Charm.”
“What does the book mean by ‘turn the inside out’?”
Vincent walked over.
“It isn’t telling you to imagine squeezing the object smaller.”
“Picture the object as though it’s a pouch.”
“Now imagine turning that pouch inside out.”
“The shrinking happens naturally during that process.”
“Try it.”
Neville nodded nervously.
He aimed his wand at a large sheet of parchment.
“Reducio.”
The parchment instantly shrank to the size of his hand.
“It worked!”
Neville almost jumped into the air.
“Vincent!”
“You’re amazing!”
“You understand Transfiguration so easily!”
“You learn every spell immediately…”
“And then you teach it to me even better than the book does.”
“My grandmother said the last person she ever saw learn Transfiguration this quickly was Professor McGonagall.”
“Back then, they were both students at Hogwarts.”
Vincent smiled.
“But you’re much better than I am at Herbology.”
“You memorized all those magical plants almost instantly.”
Neville looked embarrassed.
“Well…”
“Grandma always made me help in the greenhouse.”
“I’ve seen most of them since I was little.”
“So remembering them wasn’t difficult.”
He suddenly brightened.
“That’s right!”
“If you could see them yourself…”
“You’d learn much faster too!”
“You’ve taught me so much.”
“I want to repay you.”
“I remember you bought a mandrake leaf because you wanted to study Herbology and Potions.”
“You can’t learn much from a single leaf.”
“Tomorrow I’ll bring you a whole mandrake!”
Vincent nearly choked.
Absolutely not.
Mandrakes were among the most dangerous magical plants taught in first-year Herbology.
Even immature mandrakes produced cries powerful enough to knock people unconscious.
Adult mandrakes could kill.
“Uh…”
“Neville.”
“I’m actually not that interested in Herbology.”
The following morning, Vincent remained unusually alert.
He completed the sunrise incantation for his Animagus transformation before immediately preparing a pair of earmuffs and stuffing cotton into his pockets.
Just in case.
If Neville really appeared carrying a potted mandrake…
He intended to cover his ears before the plant had any chance to scream.
Fortunately…
No flowerpot appeared.
Instead, shortly after noon, Neville arrived carrying two broomsticks across his shoulders.
He looked utterly dejected.
“Grandmother refused.”
“She said mandrakes are far too dangerous.”
“Then she spent the whole morning scolding me.”
Vincent wasn’t surprised.
“What did she say?”
Neville sighed.
“‘How many lives do you think you have?'”
“‘If you want to practice something besides spells, then practice flying instead!'”
He lifted the broomsticks helplessly.
“So…”
“Here I am.”
Vincent examined them carefully.
At first glance, they looked like ordinary household brooms.
Looking closer, however, revealed the differences.
The birch twigs had been trimmed with remarkable precision.
The handles were perfectly balanced and polished smooth.
Every detail reflected careful magical craftsmanship.
Flying still seemed far more dangerous than studying mandrakes.
Broomsticks weren’t cheap, either.
Even an entry-level model cost many Galleons.
To Vincent, they were the magical equivalent of automobiles.
He couldn’t help marveling at the Longbottom family’s priorities.
A child carrying around two broomsticks worth a fortune…
But a mandrake is considered too dangerous.
Pure-blood families really have their own way of thinking.
Still…
Since the broomsticks were already here…
There was no way he would miss this opportunity.
His Ministry assistance covered only school necessities.
Buying a broomstick himself was completely out of the question.
If he didn’t learn now, he’d have to wait until Hogwarts and practice on the battered old school brooms that had served generations of students.
Why learn to drive in a worn-out training car…
…when someone is offering you a brand-new one?
Neville, meanwhile, clearly hoped the lesson would somehow be canceled.
“Do you… um…”
“Do you even have somewhere suitable to practice?”
“I heard there aren’t many places for flying in the Muggle world.”
“Too many people.”
“Too many buildings.”
“If there isn’t anywhere…”
“…I’ll just tell Grandmother it couldn’t be helped.”
The hint couldn’t have been more obvious.
Unfortunately for Neville…
Vincent smiled.
“I know the perfect place.”
“I’ll take you there.”
Leading the way through the forest behind the orphanage, Vincent eventually arrived at the small cemetery hidden beyond the trees.
Today, however, they weren’t here to pay their respects.
Beyond the graves stretched a vast sea of grass.
There were no houses.
No roads.
No people.
Only endless open fields.
It was an ideal place for flying practice.
Neville swallowed nervously.
Standing amid the waist-high grass, he clutched his broomstick so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
His lips had lost all color.
Even his legs were trembling.
“E-even now…”
“Do we really have to practice?”
Vincent couldn’t help smiling.
He remembered Neville’s disastrous first flying lesson at Hogwarts.
His nervousness had caused his broom to shoot uncontrollably into the sky before throwing him off, leaving him with a broken wrist.
That accident had ultimately led to Harry Potter joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
But that was exactly why Vincent wanted Neville to practice beforehand.
If Neville could overcome his fear now…
Perhaps that embarrassing accident would never happen.
After a month of studying together, Vincent already considered Neville a genuine friend.
He didn’t want to watch him become the laughingstock of his first flying lesson.
Vincent rested a reassuring hand on Neville’s shoulder.
“Trust me.”
“I’ll stay right here.”
“If anything happens…”
“I’ll be watching.”