Chapter 116: Discovery
It was already half past four, and Harry was reading The Origins of Quidditch, a book Roger had just passed around. Roger's commentary continued in the background—he had just returned from the library, where he'd borrowed several books and given the librarian, Madam Pince, a list of names.
"Except for you, Harry, this book belongs to me. You can read it as you like, but return it by the end of the term," Roger said, suddenly popping up beside Harry and startling him.
As Roger walked away, Harry muttered under his breath, "I thought Roger Davies was just a Chaser, not the Quidditch captain. Why is he acting like one?"
Harry's words were like kicking a hornet's nest. A few older students, unfamiliar and clearly upperclassmen, turned toward him.
"Yeah, he's only in third year."
"Captain Jonny must've been blind to pick him as the next in line."
"Swipes are antiques. Nimbus is still the best."
Alexander, lounging idly in the nearby chair, found it amusing that Quidditch—a mere school sport—could spark such drama.
To Alexander, the rejection of other flying instruments was simply the result of British wizards' conservatism. Even in this age of secrecy, many witches and wizards still traveled by broomstick, avoiding airplanes because of magical interference.
Most just claimed they were using Disillusionment Charms to avoid being seen by Muggles. But that only fooled those on the ground—when a broom flew overhead, the most it did was leave a faint shimmer in the night sky, easily mistaken for eye strain or tiredness.
But it was different for Muggles on planes. If unlucky, a plane could malfunction mid-flight due to magical interference and crash.
Though Alexander was a time traveler, he was also a native British wizard. The culture here valued tradition over progress. No matter the function or innovation, wizards clung to original forms—if it began with a broom, it stayed a broom.
And, interestingly enough, Alexander suspected Harry hadn't realized that Quidditch wasn't entirely a wizarding-exclusive word.
The Origins of Quidditch actually existed in the Muggle world too, its royalties donated to Comic Relief, a charitable foundation established in 1985—when Harry was five. To date, it had raised over £174,000—equivalent to more than 30,000 Galleons. The book had even been charmed with a Thief's Curse.
If someone tried to read it in a bookstore without paying, once they reached the end and tried to walk out without buying it, the money would disappear from their pockets as a "donation."
So, was the International Statute of Secrecy really enforced? Or was it just a fig leaf? As long as you were strong enough, no one cared. Just look at Dumbledore—he was involved in publishing that book, yet no one dared accuse him of breaking secrecy laws.
The old man was quietly sharing wizarding culture and stories with Muggles, showing that witches and wizards laughed, cried, and lived just like everyone else.
And why choose that book in particular? Because it covered a fictional sport, and it was the most popular one at Hogwarts.
When Dumbledore mentioned his plan to duplicate a wizarding book for Muggle publication, Madam Pince had grumbled that The Origins of Quidditch was always getting damaged and mistreated by students. In Dumbledore's eyes, though, that was the highest compliment.
So he picked that book, removed the enchantments, and left behind a mundane version for Muggle eyes.
No more floating books smacking careless readers in the head—though Alexander couldn't help but smile at the memory. This world truly was fascinating. Now that most of the dangers had been dealt with, he had the luxury to notice the little things.
For instance, the Muggle world differed significantly from the one he remembered. Books referencing the magical world were sitting on public library shelves, disguised as fantasy novels. That kind of duality was only amusing to someone like him—a time traveler. For those who lived here, it was just normal, like flowers blooming or trees shedding their leaves.
The upperclassmen arguing with Harry had long since wandered off. Alexander, bored, wandered over and began reading with him.
"Huh... There are so few flying wizards that the author actually thinks it's impossible?" he murmured.
In this world—unlike in the movies—only a few wizards had ever flown unaided. Besides Voldemort, seventh-year Snape, and a handful of Animagi who turned into winged creatures, no one had done it.
But Alexander disagreed with the book's dismissive stance. The author, though an expert in Quidditch, seemed naive in stating outright that no flight-related spell had ever been invented.
If Hermione read this, she might be misled too.
Many magical texts included narrow perspectives. Authors often inserted personal opinions—like how raising the dead would sully your soul, or that some types of magic were inherently evil. All these statements were like invisible chains, limiting the minds of young wizards.
It was no wonder Hermione, in the original timeline, had doubted the existence of the Elder Wand or the Resurrection Stone. Her vast knowledge had made her rigid—memorizing instead of questioning.
But flying spells had to exist. Wizards were once god-like beings. Flying should've been instinctual. The only reason no such spells were known now was because ancient wizards hadn't imagined their descendants would grow so weak.
After all, if you had hands, why wouldn't you use them to fly?
Magic was a miracle. The first lesson in magic was belief: that anything was possible. If you couldn't do it now, that didn't mean it was impossible.
"Alexander, what's wrong?" Harry asked, noticing a rare flash of anger in Alexander's expression.
"Nothing. But Harry, are you sure there are no flight-related spells?" Alexander replied calmly.
"Definitely not. It says in the book that no wizard has ever invented one," Hermione said as she approached, clearly trying to join the conversation—and perhaps impress Alexander.
"I think there must be. After all, broomsticks allow flight," Alexander said.
"Maybe the reason it hasn't been invented is because it's not practical. If you flew by yourself, you'd get exhausted quickly," Hermione suggested.
"But the Levitation Charm makes things float. Why can't we float ourselves?" Harry countered.
"Exactly. And look around us," Alexander said with a smirk.
The next second, Hermione and Harry screamed in surprise.
They were soaring above Hogwarts, high in the sky, yet perfectly balanced and unharmed. An invisible force—Alexander's magic—surrounded them, lifting them effortlessly through the clouds like fish swimming in water.
"Remember, magic is omnipotent," Alexander said softly.
The next moment, they were back in the common room, breathing heavily as if nothing had happened. But the moisture on Harry's fingers—proof of having touched real clouds—told him it hadn't been a dream.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you like the story please give it some power stones and reviews. And if you want to read 30+ advance chapters or just want to support me please join my patreon at [email protected]/Translatingfanfics