Chapter Forty-Nine: The Wretched Mobley

Seeing Xiwen vow with such confidence that her notes would become next year’s textbook, Miranda couldn’t help but be amused.

“You’re just a freshman who’s only been in class for a week—where does all that confidence come from? And don’t forget, I haven’t even counted the classes you skipped!” Miranda remarked with a laugh.

“I mainly have faith in you,” Xiwen replied with a smile.

But what truly bolstered his confidence was the vast library of books at home. He had read countless spellbooks, yet never encountered any as detailed, vivid, and easy to understand as Miranda’s notes.

‘Maybe I really could make a tidy profit off Miranda’s book,’ Xiwen thought blissfully.

Then, he reached into his pocket watch’s hidden space and pulled out a heavy leather pouch, handing it to Miranda.

“This is for you—a little upfront investment for the ‘Book of Spells’!” Xiwen declared.

Miranda accepted the pouch with a puzzled look. When she opened it, she was nearly dazzled—the bag was filled to the brim with gleaming golden Galleons, their brilliance reflecting in the sunlight, turning half of Miranda’s face beneath her glasses to gold.

Miranda’s lips parted in shock, her whole body frozen in disbelief.

Xiwen watched, his face breaking into a mischievous, satisfied grin.

It took Miranda a long moment to recover. Almost reflexively, she tried to hand the pouch back to Xiwen. “No, this is too much!” she protested.

Xiwen dodged her attempt, stepping back with an air of nonchalance. “It’s just an investment. Didn’t you say your notes aren’t complete yet? Use the money to gather more resources, correspond with some experts, maybe even bring a gift to visit Professor Wolflin. You know what I mean?”

Miranda gazed at him, half exasperated, half amused. “But this is far more than necessary! To be honest, I’ve never seen so many Galleons in my life.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a small portion of my pocket money,” Xiwen replied lightly.

He turned toward the open field to the northwest, waving a hand with a carefree smile, departing without a backward glance.

Miranda was left standing there, her expression numb with disbelief.

…

After leaving the lawn near the teaching block, Xiwen checked the time and realized he’d spent longer chatting with Miranda than he intended. He wouldn’t have time to complete his whole morning exercise routine now.

Deciding to take it easy for a day, he told himself he deserved a break after his recent illness.

With one less activity, he suddenly found himself with plenty of time. Leisurely, he headed for the Owl Tower in the northwest corner, intending to write a letter to Sandrine.

On the way, he found a large stone, which he quickly flattened with a bit of Transfiguration. Then he took a small stool from his pocket watch’s storage and set it beside the stone. His makeshift desk and chair were ready!

Next, he pulled out some parchment and a quill—always kept ready in his pocket watch space for emergencies—and settled in comfortably to write to Sandrine.

“Dearest Mother: A few days ago, I had a thrilling adventure in the Forbidden Forest with Professor Kettleburn. There was a minor mishap, but nothing serious. In fact, it earned me the chance to study alchemy under Professor Dumbledore…”

He kept the account light, not wanting to worry Sandrine, and glossed over the more dangerous details. Then he paused, considering how to phrase the matter of Aelxiona.

“As for the engagement with the Greengrass family, I don’t think there’s any need to rush. Times have changed, and love can unfold naturally. Trust in my abilities—surely you’re not worried I won’t find a suitable match?”

Shamelessly, he wrote these words, feeling rather pleased with himself.

When the letter was done, Xiwen put away his quill and stool, then set off for the nearby Owl Tower with the parchment in hand.

By the time he arrived, the ink was perfectly dry. Xiwen selected a public owl that looked reasonably clean, bribed it with some leftover jerky from the kitchen, and won its cooperation.

The owl obligingly extended a leg, letting Xiwen tie the rolled-up letter securely.

Watching the owl beat its wings and fly off, Xiwen couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to soar freely without a broom.

‘Maybe once I learn alchemy, I can make my own flying device?’ he mused idly.

…

The first Defense Against the Dark Arts class began with Professor Lorey calling the young witches and wizards up to the dais one by one, checking their mastery of the Spark Charm.

“I know you’re already proficient, Mr. Rozier,” Professor Lorey said, fixing Xiwen with a piercing gaze. “You don’t need to be tested.”

Xiwen, staring back into those deep eyes, felt an odd sense of familiarity, prompting him to look for a moment longer.

“Is something the matter, Mr. Rozier?” Professor Lorey inquired.

“Oh—no, nothing, Professor,” Xiwen replied, coming to his senses at last and hurrying back to sit beside Aelxiona. With nothing else to do, he idly flipped through the “Guide to Self-Defense Against the Dark Arts” on his desk, skimming ahead.

It was worth noting that most of the young wizards could barely coax a faint wisp of light from their wands when casting the spell—a glow near invisible in the bright daylight.

Only Slytherin’s Aelxiona, Abraxas, Gomez, and Gryffindor’s Moody managed to meet the professor’s expectations.

Professor Lorey’s face grew darker with each demonstration, and by the end of the inspection, his lips were pressed into a thin, cold line.

“You haven’t practiced even once since the last class, have you?” He braced his elbows on the lectern and leaned forward, his voice icy as he surveyed the students. “Do you realize that if you ever face danger, you’ll have no way to signal for help—no means to protect yourselves?”

“Mobley Worray, stand up!” Professor Lorey suddenly barked, pointing at Mobley in the crowd. “All three of your roommates have mastered the Spark Charm. Why haven’t you?”

Mobley shot to his feet, sweating profusely. “I…I didn’t know they’d all learned it…”

“Didn’t know?” Professor Lorey almost laughed in exasperation. “So if they hadn’t learned it, you’d have a valid excuse not to bother either?”

“No, that’s not—” Mobley stammered, flustered.

“Then tell me—could anyone even see your signal?” Professor Lorey roared.

“N-no, they couldn’t…”

“So if you ever find yourself in danger, are you the first one who’d die?”

Mobley was at a loss for words.

Xiwen silently mourned for his roommate for a couple of seconds.

As for himself, his roommates all knew he’d started practicing magic with a wand long before most young witches and wizards could even control their magic.

Gomez, ever since Xiwen told him that hard work might earn him a place in Professor Slughorn’s club, had thrown himself into his studies, spending every day in the library until late at night.

And Abraxas, his usual chess partner in the dormitory, had apparently “betrayed” him by joining those who’d mastered the Spark Charm—a surprise Mobley had never expected. But Abraxas’s talent was considerable, and his strict father had taught him well at home, leading to this unexpected result.

All in all, Mobley really was rather pitiful…