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HP: I have a Proficiency Panel - 87
🕑 Added 2025-11-17 14:56:34 +0000 UTCChapter 87: The Flight Test
Neville had clearly not expected anyone to wait quietly in one place for over ten minutes. When he finally dared to turn around, he saw the same calm face looking back at him.
His expression, already on the verge of tears, nearly broke into a full sob.
Shawn sat down lightly and, with a tap of his wand, turned the book in his hand into a blue cushion.
Transfiguration and Charms had once again been lifted to the top of his priority list.
His in‑depth Intermediate Transfiguration was still not proficient enough. If he could reach Expert, he thought, he might be able to turn a desk into a full wild boar, not just half of one.
Charms filled the rest. Transfiguration made up for his lack of offensive spells.
Although at the moment his strongest spell wasn’t Transfiguration at all, but the Knockback Jinx.
He had no intention of using that lightly. He had more than enough buffs stuck to his name already.
But not using a spell did not mean he should not learn it. A wizard never had too many spells in reserve.
On the defensive side, he still had gaps. He had picked out one nearly universal defensive charm: the General Counter‑Spell, Finite.
Books classed it among defensive magic, complementing protective spells like Protego. In the second year, Professor Snape demonstrated it at the Duelling Club to break Harry and Draco’s barrage of spells.
In The Chamber of Secrets, Hermione had used it to stop the bewitched rogue Bludger from pursuing Harry.
Its difficulty was clearly in a different league from Protego. Simpler, yet just as practical. It was an excellent choice.
"You only just taught me the Levitation Charm, and I’ve already mucked it up. I think, Shawn – maybe I am not a proper wizard at all," Neville mumbled. Perhaps it was because Shawn had gone over the charm with him so many times, or because Shawn had never once laughed at him, but Neville rarely spoke this much.
"They say I’m cowardly and muddle‑headed. They’re right. I always forget things. I can hardly do anything right."
Shawn listened in silence. The wood stairs creaked softly under them, like the snores of a sleeping giant.
A magical lantern hung from above, its light a thick, honey‑gold glow that flowed and softened as night deepened, wrapping their little corner in warmth.
Neville was curled on the wide step at the bend, words spilling out. Shawn simply sat and listened.
"Your Levitation Charm failed," Shawn said at last.
Neville hunched his shoulders, bracing for the disgust and mockery he was sure would follow.
"So shall we practise it again?" Shawn asked quietly.
His face was washed in the lantern’s gentle light, but Neville could not see it clearly; there were too many bright drops running down his own.
Meanwhile, inside the classroom,
"All right, all right, give them a bit longer," Justin said, pacing in anxious circles.
He had been watching ever since Shawn’s first encounter with Mr Longbottom.
Neville was a kind Gryffindor; that much Justin was sure of. Nor was he as cowardly as the Slytherins liked to sneer.
When Malfoy had snatched his Remembrall and Harry had swooped in to retrieve it, Neville had, with Harry’s prompting, found it in him to talk back to Draco.
"You’re a coward," Malfoy had said.
"Harry says I’m not a coward. You are," Neville had answered.
From that day, Justin had known the courage buried in Neville Longbottom’s heart. He only needed a hand to show him the way.
Justin had thought Harry would be the one. But each time Neville had reached out, somehow he had ended up with Shawn.
"Perhaps you should come in and practise," Shawn called. There was a thump, and Justin, clutching a platter of fried meat and a heap of puddings, appeared in the doorway.
Hermione tilted her chin and nodded. "It is cold outside, Shawn. If you catch another cold—"
There was another Gryffindor in the classroom now. Most days, the scene Shawn saw most often was Hermione anxiously drilling Mr Longbottom.
Justin seemed to have moved into the kitchens. Now and then, he turned up in the greenhouse with a handful of strange plants and baked them into even stranger food.
The All‑Flavour Pudding, as he named it, offered six different pudding flavours at random.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him and then ate two portions in a row.
On Saturday morning,
Shawn sat on the grass with Professor McGonagall’s notes in his lap. The Black Lake at the south side of the castle lay flat as a mirror. Shawn knew Hogwarts’ drainage all ran into it in the end.
The lake was home to the giant squid, grindylows, and a community of merpeople.
Some even claimed the squid was Gryffindor himself. Shawn had no idea whether to believe that.
The blue sky was suddenly broken by a black speck drawing closer. Shawn rose to his feet.
"Madam Hooch," he said.
"Morning, lad," Madam Hooch replied, dismounting with her usual neat grace. Her broom landed in a soft whisper, smoothing the emerald grass.
"The flight test starts tomorrow afternoon. Remember to fetch your broom. If you like, you can sleep with it," she said. Madam Hooch was not joking; some Quidditch players seemed ready to marry their broomsticks.
There had even been a wizard in Italy who tried to do exactly that. Unsurprisingly, the Ministry had refused the application.
Still, the better you knew your broom, the greater an advantage you held in the air.
"All right, Madam."
Shawn flicked his wand. The cushion on the grass changed back into a book, and the scattered quills and parchment zipped into his bag under Accio.
October was growing colder by the day. If you worked up a sweat and did not change, it was easy to catch another cold.
Having been through a foggy week already, Shawn was not about to repeat the mistake. He followed Madam Hooch’s directions to the changing rooms first.
Passing the Gryffindor changing room, he saw a meeting in progress.
Oliver Wood, Gryffindor Quidditch captain, was holding up a large diagram of the pitch, covered in coloured lines, arrows and crosses. He pointed his wand, and the arrows wriggled across the parchment like caterpillars.
He was explaining the tactics at full volume. Once the first-year flight test is finished tomorrow, he will put the team through their drills. He finished with a roar.
"Flatten Slytherin! Hufflepuff is no trouble. With Potter on our side, even Ravenclaw will not stand a chance. This year’s Quidditch Cup will have our name on it. Because we have the best team this school has ever seen!"
The term ' Quidditch maniac' was not an unfair description.
Shawn, who wanted as little to do with Quidditch as possible, slipped away quickly and collected his Nimbus 2000 from Madam Hooch’s office.
He was already picturing a future where he never had to climb all those stairs again and could simply fly straight into the Ravenclaw Tower.
