[You have processed a nettle to apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
[You have processed a nettle to apprentice standard. Proficiency +1]
…
[Herbology Cognition unlocked]
[New Herbology-domain title unlocked. Please check.]
[One wizard talent unlocked. Please check.]
After two full days of grinding,
Sean finally unlocked his Herbology-domain title.
He couldn't wait to open the panel:
[Title: Herbology Intern]
[Effect: Slightly increases sensitivity toward plants. Slightly boosts Herbology talent.]
Increased plant sensitivity?
That… didn't sound bad at all.
Sean scrolled further down:
[Wizard Sean — Herbology Talent: Green
(Upgraded by title "Herbology Intern." Original talent: White)
Note: Average wizard talent is Green.]
In terms of "being disappointing,"
Sean's talent never failed to deliver.
…Well.
At least I can still brute-force it with proficiency grinding.
Sean comforted himself.
Very soon, he experienced what that talent upgrade actually meant.
When he was sorting mature dried nettles,
a strange intuition nudged his hand—
and he just knew which stem had ripened at exactly the right time.
After soaking and processing it according to the standard procedure,
his panel chimed with a new prompt:
[You have processed a nettle to Beginner standard. Proficiency +3]
This really was a world where talent was magic.
Sean's stereotype of the wizarding world refreshed itself once again.
"Excellent work, Mr. Green. I'll award Ravenclaw two points."
Professor Sprout walked over, genuinely surprised.
"Everyone, gather round! Have a look at this batch of processed nettles. See?
All the stinging hairs and tiny soft bristles are gone.
That is one of the key traits of a properly prepared nettle ingredient."
She beamed at Sean.
"Very good progress, Mr. Green."
By the time Herbology ended and they walked out of the greenhouse,
Sean could already hear the whispers around him.
"Who's that?"
"Sean Green—haven't you heard of him?"
"Quite the opposite, actually. I'm sick of hearing it.
People say he's good at charms and transfiguration too. Is he from an old wizarding family?"
"That's the worst part. Supposedly, he's Muggle-born…"
The moment Sean turned his head toward the voices,
the two students flushed bright red and hurried off.
"Sean, looks like you're famous now."
Michael's voice came loaded with teasing.
"And it was bound to happen, wasn't it? I've never seen anyone good at every subject… well, except Potions."
Michael's running commentary died a miserable death on the way to Astronomy.
"Stairs… stairs… and more stairs… Terry, do you see the top yet?"
Michael panted heavily. Even while talking to Terry, he kept sneaking glances at Sean,
whose face was still worryingly pale.
"They say the Astronomy Tower is the highest tower at Hogwarts…
Higher than Ravenclaw Tower…"
Michael rambled as he shared his latest bit of "insider info," while subconsciously matching Sean's half-step pace.
"…Is that so?"
Anthony replied lazily, then quietly shifted closer to Michael.
The two of them walked on either side of Sean, half guarding, half supporting him.
The Astronomy professor, Aurora Sinistra, was a witch with a kind of calm, distant grace.
She taught them how to use telescopes to observe the stars,
how to recognize constellations,
and how to trace the paths of the planets.
Her classroom was filled with all sorts of magical instruments:
lunar globes, moon charts, moon-scopes, star maps, telescopes…
The place looked like a magical observatory,
and unlike normal research labs, the night sky here was stunning—
starlight strewn across enchanted glass, soft light gliding over precise instruments.
Because he already understood how telescopes were constructed and aligned,
Sean quickly caught Professor Sinistra's eye.
She even allowed him to operate a massive metallic spherical device
to predict the orbit of Io, Jupiter's first moon.
It nearly drove Terry mad with envy.
The usually quiet boy asked about the experience not once, but three times.
Sean politely described it in detail. Terry's eyes were practically glowing.
"Oh, Merlin… it must have been incredible. That's an extremely rare magical lunar tracker…"
By the time Astronomy ended,
curfew was nearly upon them.
After climbing two towers in the same day, Sean's face looked worse for wear,
but it didn't stop him from organizing his notes.
If he remembered correctly,
first-years mainly learned the names of stars and the movement patterns of planets.
None of that was particularly hard—
it was mostly memorization.
The only part that might trouble others was drawing orbital diagrams.
For Sean, with his Muggle school background, that was child's play.
Never underestimate the power of compulsory education.
Once he finished those notes, Sean opened his Potions and Magical History books.
The preparation work for potion brewing was done.
Now he wanted to dig up any hints on actual brewing technique.
Even though most books only gave rigid steps and vague descriptions,
he still managed to extrapolate some faint clues from between the lines.
[When brewing Boil-Cure Potion, you must stir twice counterclockwise, then three times clockwise.
Stirring strength must be moderate…]
What exactly counted as "moderate"?
Sean flipped open A History of Magic and found his answer there:
[The self-stirring cauldron is a cauldron enchanted to stir potions on its own.
Its ladle frequently breaks the bubbles as it turns…]
So—
just enough force to pop the bubbles.
That must be the proper level of strength.
History really was an excellent teacher—
even in the wizarding world.
In the Ravenclaw common room,
the atmosphere was typically quiet,
but that didn't mean everyone was studying all the time.
Far from it.
First-years at this age were naturally playful.
After finishing his History of Magic essay,
Michael had already spent an hour playing Gobstones.
Seeing Sean still in "full immersion" study mode,
he exchanged a glance with Terry, who was cataloging his weird stones.
Then, waiting for a moment when Sean switched books, he finally said:
"Sean, no offense,
but I've literally never seen you doing anything else.
There's got to be more to a wizard's life than studying, right?
You're ahead in Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic…
Merlin, I've lost track of how far ahead you are.
Aren't you… bored?"
Sean lifted his head.
Bored?
What… are you even talking about?
This was magic.
A system that gave him direct, immediate, positive feedback.
The more he learned, the stronger he became; the stronger he became, the more motivated he was to keep learning.
With magic, as long as he put in enough effort,
it would always turn into real, usable power.
Visible, tangible, measurable.
Add on the fact that magic was versatile, practical, and borderline miraculous…
boring simply didn't apply.
Then, suddenly, Sean realized something he'd been ignoring.
For most wizard kids, magic was something they were born with.
Maybe that was why they took it for granted.
But Sean…
Sean had spent three months lying motionless in a hospital bed at the orphanage.
His heart had gone just as numb as his body.
It was that owl—a scruffy thing that dared to fly into the drafty room through a blizzard—
and Professor McGonagall, who advanced the money for his quills and books,
filed his bursary papers, pushed his scholarship forms through…
They were the ones who handed him the ability to look forward again,
before he could even walk properly.
Once you've experienced a life without hope,
you learn to cling to miracles.
Magic was a miracle.
And Sean intended to grab it with both hands.
He enjoyed the feeling of this miracle flowing out from the tip of his wand—
changing reality, reshaping the world.
And with his proficiency panel sitting there like a divine status screen,
every bit of progress could be clearly seen and recorded.
"Hey, huh? Sean—did you figure it out? Wanna play Gobstones?"
Michael saw him put a book away and lit up instantly.
"Sorry," Sean shook his head.
"I just want to study."
He picked out another book from the stack—
Advanced Potion-Making, borrowed from the library.
Advance Chapters available on Patreon
patreon.com/ZoroTL442