Chapter 88: Practice, News

"Bang!" A flash of spell light exploded, and Harry was thrown backward, crashing into the padded wall with a low groan. When he looked up again, he was holding his nose, with bright red blood dripping down. "Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried out, rushing over to ask, "Are you okay?" "Hit my nose," Harry replied in a muffled voice. He grabbed some Dittany from the shelf by the wall, expertly applying it to his nose, and then wiped the blood off his face with a tissue. Neville handed him back his wand, and Harry said, "Thanks, Neville." The wound healed quickly, and Harry looked up and asked, "I think my Shield Charm had a bit of an effect that time, didn't it?" "It did—my spell was slightly deflected," Wade confirmed with a nod, then added: "But it was too weak and didn't work as well as it should have. Remember—'pro-TAY-goh' (Protego). You need to say it more decisively. This charm doesn't require much technique, just repeated practice." "I understand." Harry took a deep breath, flexed his wrist, and gripped his wand tightly. "Ready to continue?" "Of course!" Harry answered confidently, standing firm and sharply swishing his wand. "Protego!" "Expelliarmus!" (Disarming Charm) The flashes of light collided again, and once more, Harry's wand flew out of his hand. "Isn't Harry pushing himself a bit too hard these days?" Michael asked Neville, who had just walked back. "He's been hurt several times today." "Yeah, maybe a little," Neville mumbled. "Should we keep practicing the Disarming Charm?" "Listen, Neville—there's no end to learning spells. You have to learn how to rest to learn better," Michael said lazily, sitting on the ground, not wanting to move. "You're not being hunted by You-Know-Who, so why are you working so hard?" Among the SSC members, aside from Wade, Harry had made the most progress. He had already learned both the Disarming Charm and the Shield Charm, though his protective Shield still shattered easily with impact. Neville, on the other hand, was progressing the slowest—he hadn't successfully cast the Disarming Charm even once yet. But Michael knew that Neville was actually working harder than anyone else. Watching him fail time and time again, only to get back up each time, made Michael feel pained on his behalf. Neville didn't say anything; he just silently stood in the dueling position and looked over at Michael. Michael: "..." He resisted the itching discomfort that felt like ants crawling all over his body, and forced himself to stay lying on the ground for another two minutes. Eventually, though, he couldn't escape the guilt any longer and got up. "Why am I here, practicing advanced spells meant for fifth and sixth years with you guys?" Michael grumbled. "Tomorrow night, I swear I'm not coming... I need a break, I need to hang out, play games... or even just sit by the fireplace doing absolutely nothing." Neville just smiled. At first, he had believed Michael, worrying that he wouldn't want to continue training with him and would stop coming to the umbrella room. So they'd train for a bit, then take breaks. But eventually, Neville realized Michael was only bluffing—he always showed up on time the next day. "If he doesn't come, you'll be without a partner. Or we'll have to rotate, and someone will be left out," Hermione pointed out bluntly after training, explaining why Michael kept coming. "He just wants to slack off himself but doesn't want to hold back those who are working hard." Neville was startled and suddenly felt a bit guilty. "But I still haven't mastered the Disarming Charm... I feel bad for wasting his effort." "Yes, it's strange—" Hermione frowned, puzzled. "Wade's been teaching clearly, and he says your technique and pronunciation are both fine, so why can't you get it right?" "Hermione," Harry quickly interrupted. Asking a struggling student, "Why haven't you learned something so simple?" was basically like saying, "You're unbelievably slow, aren't you?" Neville, however, wasn't that sensitive. He stared down at his wand, lost in thought. ... That evening, after Wade had finished washing up, he stepped out of the washroom, towel-drying his damp hair, and saw a familiar house-elf standing in the room. "Maggie? Have a seat." Wade put down the towel, poured a glass of water for Maggie and slid it over, then poured one for himself and drank it in one go. Maggie didn't sit down. Leaning against the chair, holding the hot water, his large, watery eyes gleamed as he spoke in a soft voice, "Wade Grey shouldn't go to the Potions classroom tomorrow afternoon. The room will be used by other students." Wade paused and thought for a moment before putting his cup back down. During lunch today, he had sat near Prewett and, pretending it was a casual conversation, told Padma that he planned to go to the Potions classroom tomorrow to practice brewing Shrinking Potion. Originally, Wade had considered whether he should "accidentally" mention this in front of the Slytherin students—but it seemed that wouldn't be necessary now. As for Maggie—after their last conversation, he seemed to have learned some kind of "glitch" technique. He swayed slightly as he drank the water, cherishing it, and no longer seemed inclined to punish himself. Wade smiled and asked, "Are there any older students?" "No," Maggie replied. "They're all like Wade Grey." "How many students are going to use the Potions classroom?" "Uh..." The house-elf hesitated for a moment. "Six? Seven? Six?" "Six or seven... so one of them might not show up?" Wade asked. Maggie shook his head. "They think she's part of the group, but she's not." "I see." Wade took out a small version of the Book of Friends and handed it to Maggie. "I'm sure you know how to use this? When it's inconvenient for me to go to the Potions classroom tomorrow, could you notify me?" "Of course, Maggie will do that—Maggie is very happy to help Wade Grey." Maggie happily bowed and, with a "pop," disappeared, taking the Book of Friends with him. ... "Wade, have you noticed—" During History of Magic, Michael glanced around before lowering his voice. "The Slytherins seem a bit odd today?" "What do you mean?" Wade asked. "Just now at the door, Zabini actually smiled at me. It was creepy." Michael rubbed his arms. "Maybe, These guys are up to something bad?" The reputation of the Slytherin students wasn't great, but they were very tight-knit. Ever since Wade's confrontation with Malfoy and his group in the hallway, the other Slytherins had stopped interacting with them. Even in class, the two sides were distinctly separated, never mixing. However, the conflict hadn't escalated between the two houses, and it wasn't like the ongoing rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, where both sides constantly sought trouble. "Drop the 'maybe' part," Wade said quietly. "They're planning to ambush me." "Ambush you... in the Potions classroom?" Michael suddenly realized. "No wonder you brought up Potions out of nowhere yesterday... Are you planning to let them prepare and then report it to the professor? Or..." His eyes gleamed as he whispered excitedly, "Lure Professor Snape there—" -------------------------------- ????????Please consider supporting this translation project by becoming a P@treon member!!! Your support is greatly appreciated! Available on my P@treon page for just $4!! 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