So he needed more speed.
Fortunately, these Bludgers had been toned down quite a bit, which let Sean—already at adept flying—dodge them with ease.
"The first Quaffle!"
Madam Hooch released it. The leather ball, twelve inches across, shot out like a nimble little bird.
Sean locked onto it. The wind roared louder in his ears—and in a heartbeat his magic tripped the Braking Charm. The Nimbus 2000 halted as if it were an extension of his arm, and with a sharp turn he left the Bludger far behind.
Only at takeoff did he truly grasp what the panel's description meant:
[Greatly heightens sensitivity to a broom's magic; greatly boosts innate flying talent; slightly boosts short-burst acceleration.]
His magic surged; the power feeding his Acceleration Charm jumped by a wide margin—yet he still tracked the Quaffle cleanly, perfectly in control even as his speed spiked.
In under ten seconds, he snagged the first Quaffle—the standard allowance for it was a full three minutes.
The moment his fingers closed, the ball clung fast to his hand. Sean knew why—thanks to the Gripping Charm invented by wizards in 1875.
He skimmed the turf and dropped the Quaffle into the basket before Madam Hooch.
"Excellent!" she shouted up to him. "Second one!"
"Cool!" In the stands, Justin pumped a fist; Hermione's cheeks had flushed with excitement. "Terrifying—in the best way," she breathed.
"If I hadn't seen the notice and missed Sean's test—oh man—I'd regret it for life!" Justin blurted.
Hermione shot him a withering look, then both fixed their eyes on Sean again.
The second Quaffle was clearly faster—and trickier—circling back and forth around the posts. Still, it was easy work for Sean.
"Third one!"
Two minutes later, Madam Hooch called out, a little breathless. "Watch closely! Catch this one—you've still got twelve minutes!"
The flight test ran fifteen minutes total. By rights, a test-taker should be budgeting roughly one minute, then five, then nine.
But Sean was operating far above the usual level. He was more than twice as fast.
Which only made Madam Hooch more wistful.
What a Quidditch talent.
Just then, a tall Gryffindor strode in with a pack of Gryffindors, still mid-speech:
"We're going to be the strongest side—stronger than any House—because we train harder and fly in all weathers," said Wood.
"Too right," said George Weasley. "My clothes haven't been dry since August."
"—and we've also got the best Seeker, plus a brand-new Nimbus 2000," Wood added, chest heaving as he turned to Harry. "It's on you, Harry—show your talent. Today you either catch the Snitch or die trying."
"So, no pressure," Fred winked.
Harry didn't see how he could feel no pressure.
By now Madam Hooch was fully fired up.
Sean was essentially her protégé; watching him weave between two Bludgers, closing step by step on the Quaffle, her Quidditch-loving heart thundered like it used to on the pitch.
Bludgers are fastest at the start—there are no Beaters here to smack them up to speed. Most kids who pass the test tug the Bludgers around until they slow, then go for the Quaffle; it's why a time limit is necessary.
Sean, though, met them head-on—pure speed and practiced technique, dodging them all.
Madam Hooch quite forgot she'd never told him the Bludgers would keep slowing down, and Sean—who quickly nabbed the Quaffle—never noticed either.
"Trust yourself, Mr. Green! Accelerate!"
Watching the boy explode forward like a meteor, she felt transported to a roaring stadium of old. "Accelerate! Turn, Mr. Green! You've got this!"
Her uncharacteristic enthusiasm left Wood staring. For a moment he wasn't sure whether to go over. "Mr. Green?" he murmured. "Do any of you know him?"
"I—I might," said Harry, hardly believing his eyes.
Sean Green. No first-year hadn't heard the name. He'd scored top marks across almost every subject; Professor McGonagall favored him, and even Professor Snape didn't scold him—he'd even tossed points to Ravenclaw.
That alone was wild.
But it was his notes that really stuck in students' minds. Every weekend Ron would bellow in the dorm:
"If I don't have Green's notes I'm dead—oh no, I'm definitely dead—buried under Hogwarts: A History essays—"
Up in the clear blue sky, Sean had already closed on the final Quaffle. Under a field of bewildered stares he burst forward again, shaking the Bludger with raw pace and seizing the Quaffle at a speed that would outstrip nearly any Seeker at Hogwarts.
Harry and the rest heard Madam Hooch clapping. "Brilliant, Mr. Green! You've passed with a perfect score!"
Two gasps rose from the stands—Harry saw the Hufflepuff—Justin—nearly tumble off the railing before Hermione grabbed his robe with a sigh.
"That—Green—Harry, tell me—he's a Gryffindor, right?!" Wood said, dazed, then something clicked and he asked.
"He's Ravenclaw," Harry muttered.
"Oh. Right. Harry, we need to start practice—move!" Wood said urgently. "Get intimate with your Nimbus 2000. You're still the best Seeker!"
"Possibly not," Fred said, eyeing the first-year who'd just touched down.
"Another Nimbus 2000," George added.
"Didn't see that coming."
"Feels… a bit ominous."
"Ravenclaw might be better than us."
"Are we going to lose the next match?"
"Shut it, you two!" Wood roared. The twins fell silent—then glanced over at Sean and exchanged a look.
It took George one second to read Fred's meaning: go talk to him.
~~~
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