Hogwarts: Proficiency Panel

Chapter 393 394: The Pukwudgie Kind

"Sharing knowledge... no wizard has ever done that for a Pukwudgie—save for Madam Isolt Sayre," Will whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Because of her generosity, our branch of the Pukwudgie kind was given the chance to flourish. I trust you know, Lord Green, that regardless of where we are, Pukwudgies are forbidden from carrying wands. All Goblins and their kin were stripped of that right centuries ago. It was the price of a lost war. More importantly, after that war, our ancestral knowledge was fractured. It never regained the vastness it once held."

Sean understood the weight of those words. A wand was the ultimate culmination of wizarding wisdom—the most versatile and precise tool in the magical world. The "Wand Ban" was the primary shackle placed upon the non-human Beings by the Ministry, and it was the fundamental reason the other races had lost the ability to wage a true war.

Regarding knowledge and intellect, the Pukwudgies' perspective aligned perfectly with Sean's: it was a "Being's" greatest weapon.

As the steward spoke, Sean remained an attentive listener, his quill surreptitiously recording the conversation in the background. Seeing this, Will felt a surge of genuine joy. It was a good sign that Mr. Green was a wizard of character; it was an even better sign that he was utterly obsessed with the mechanics of magic.

"Master William used to say that only powerful wizards possess powerful wisdom, yet most of them refuse to share it. Most of them," Will added, wiping his nose with a corner of his well-tailored waistcoat, "are complete lunatics. Finding a powerful wizard who isn't barmy is a daunting task. And there is an even harder prerequisite."

"What's that?" Sean asked once the steward had regained his composure.

"Oh, there is a popular Muggle story, sir. Do you know how one manages to marry a Great Duke? One must catch him while he is still a lowly palace guard."

Sean blinked. He hadn't expected such a shrewd analogy from the grey-skinned creature. He reminded himself once again that he was in a world where wisdom had been accumulating for as long as civilization itself.

"So, you've chosen me as your 'lowly guard'?" Sean asked, offering a rare, dry joke.

"Oh! How could you say such a thing, sir!" Will scrambled to explain himself, his frantic voice drifting out into the falling snow beyond the window.

Sean was beginning to understand the survival strategy of the North American Pukwudgies. After the historical wars, a faction of their kind had changed their view of wizards. They realized that while the Goblin nations were strong, wizards occasionally produced individuals of such staggering power that they defied the curve.

They looked to history—to the era of Merlin, when no Pukwudgie dared show its face—and to the modern era of Albus Dumbledore. To avoid being captured for "experimental research," they had formulated a plan: if such exceptional individuals were going to exist, it was only logical to anchor themselves to one.

Alas, the last such individual they had considered was Gellert Grindelwald. As a pure-blood supremacist, he had viewed Muggles with contempt and Pukwudgies as beneath his notice. Then came Voldemort... and the Pukwudgie kind had suffered terribly for it.

Sean mused on this. In his future plans, the fact that Voldemort underestimated "lesser" creatures would be exactly where Will could prove his worth. He guided his quill to continue its "scritch-scratch" on the parchment; this was a hidden history of magical beasts that he knew at least one person—Master Newt—would be desperate to read.

"So, are you ready to help me practice the Wampus magic?" Sean asked softly.

"With the greatest of pleasure, Lord Green!" Will declared, puffing out his chest.

After a period of trial and error, Sean confirmed his suspicions: he couldn't yet cast a full-strength Legilimency probe. In his current state, he could only manage to read surface-level emotions and flickering, disjointed thoughts.

When he looked at Will, he "saw" a chaotic blur of 'For the glory of the Pukwudgies!' and a deep, resonant sense of respect. Achieving the level of a true Confusion or Memory Charm was still beyond a "Juvenile Wampus."

But Sean wasn't discouraged. Now that the Wampus Biscuit was on his system panel, the difficulty of the magic itself no longer mattered—only the time spent grinding the proficiency.

A week passed in a blur of snow and study. In the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, a recovered Professor Lockhart addressed the class.

"As you all know, extraordinary things have been happening at our school. More importantly—thanks to the tireless efforts of the Hogwarts healers and, of course, a significant amount of my own natural resilience—you once again have the privilege of the magical Me! I am preparing a few surprises. I won't say too much now, but rest assured, I have everything well in hand..."

He tapped his nose conspiratorially and strode out of the room.

The students discovered the nature of his "surprise" during breakfast on February 14th.

Harry had been at Quidditch practice until nearly midnight the previous evening. Exhausted and sleep-deprived, he stumbled into the Great Hall a few minutes late. For a moment, he thought he had walked into the wrong castle. The stone walls were covered in enormous, gaudy, shocking-pink flowers. Even worse, heart-shaped confetti was raining down from the enchanted ceiling.

Harry made his way toward the Gryffindor table. Ron was sitting there with a look of suppressed hysteria, and Hermione was clearly hiding a giggle behind her hand.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, sitting down and brushing a stray pink heart off his bacon.

Hermione pointed upward. Floating above the table was a massive silk banner that read:

HEARTFELT THANKS TO MR. GREEN FOR HIS BRAVE EXPLOITS IN THE CHAMBER.

FROM YOUR DEVOTED TEACHER, PROFESSOR GILDEROY LOCKHART,

ORDER OF MERLIN, THIRD CLASS; HONORARY MEMBER OF THE DARK FORCE DEFENSE LEAGUE; FIVE-TIME WINNER OF WITCH WEEKLY'S MOST-CHARMING-SMILE AWARD.

Beneath the banner sat Sean Green, looking as though he were contemplating the sweet release of death.

"Blimey—" Harry couldn't help it; a bark of laughter escaped him.

Sean spared them a look of such profound, weary resignation that Harry immediately tried to sober up. "Seriously, what is all this?"

Ron pointed toward the High Table, too amused to actually speak.

Lockhart was wearing vibrant, shocking-pink robes to match the decorations. He was currently waving his arms, calling the Hall to order.

[End of Chapter 394]

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