"Bang!"
The spell's light exploded, and Harry was sent flying backward, directly hitting the soft mat against the wall, letting out a low groan.
When he looked up again, he was clutching his nose, and bright red blood dripped down.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, rushing forward to ask, "Are you alright?"
"Hit my nose," Harry replied muffledly. He grabbed a vial of Dittany from the shelf by the wall, skillfully applied it to his nose, and then wiped the blood from his face with a tissue.
Neville picked up his wand for him, and Harry said, "Thanks, Neville."
The wound healed quickly. Harry looked up and asked, "I think my Shield Charm had a little effect just now, didn't it?"
"Indeed, my spell was slightly off," Wade affirmed with a nod, then asked, "But it was too weak, it didn't have the desired effect. Pay attention—'Pro-tay-goh' (Protego), you need to utter it more decisively. This spell doesn't require much technique; it just needs repeated practice."
"I understand." Harry took a deep breath, flexed his wrist, and gripped his wand tightly.
"Again?"
"Of course!"
Harry said resolutely, steadying himself and forcefully waving his wand: "Protego!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The spell lights clashed again, and Harry's wand flew out of his hand once more.
"Is Harry overdoing it these past two days?" Michael asked Neville, who had just walked back. "He's been injured several times today."
"Hmm, a bit," Neville said vaguely. "Shall we continue practicing the Disarming Charm?"
"Listen to me, Neville—you can never learn all the spells. Only by resting can you learn better—" Michael sat on the ground, unwilling to move, and said lazily, "—You're not being hunted by the Dark Lord, why are you trying so hard?"
Among the SSC members, besides Wade, Harry had made the most progress. He had already learned the Disarming Charm and the Shield Charm, though his invisible protective shield was still at the stage where it shattered upon impact. Neville, on the other hand, was making the slowest progress; he still hadn't successfully cast a Disarming Charm once.
But Michael knew that Neville was actually working harder than anyone else. Watching him fail time and again, and then get back up again and again, Michael felt a pang of sympathy for him.
Neville didn't speak, just quietly stood in the dueling position, then silently looked at Michael.
Michael: "..."
He resisted the discomfort that felt like ants crawling all over him, forcibly loafing on the ground for another two minutes, but finally couldn't stand the guilt and got up.
"Why do I have to work so hard on fifth and sixth-year stuff with you guys here?" Michael grumbled. "I'm definitely not coming tomorrow night... I need to party, I need to play games... even if it's just sitting in front of the fireplace, doing nothing?"
Neville just smiled.
At first, he would take it seriously, worrying that Michael wouldn't want to be dragged into training with him anymore and would never come to the Umbrella Room again, so he would train for a bit and then rest. But later, Neville realized that Michael always just talked, and would still show up on time the next day.
"If he doesn't come, you'll be without a partner. Or we'd rotate practice, but someone would always be left out." At the end of the training, Hermione sharply pointed out Michael's reason for doing this: "He just wants to be lazy himself, but doesn't want to hold back those who are willing to work hard."
Neville was stunned, then suddenly felt a little apologetic: "But I still haven't mastered the Disarming Charm... I'm really sorry for his effort."
"Yeah, it's strange—" Hermione frowned, unable to figure it out. "Wade teaches very thoroughly. He says your movements and incantations are fine, so why can't you succeed?"
"Hermione," Harry quickly interrupted.
A top student asking a struggling student, "Why can't you learn something so simple?" was like saying, "You're incredibly stupid," wasn't it?
Neville wasn't as sensitive. He lowered his head, staring blankly at his wand.
At night, Wade finished washing up, wiping his damp hair as he emerged from the washroom, only to see a familiar house-elf standing in the room.
"Mickey? Sit."
Wade put down the wet towel, then casually poured Mickey a glass of water and pushed it towards him. He poured one for himself and drank it down.
Mickey didn't sit. He leaned against the chair, cradling the hot water he had brought, his large eyes glistening. In a soft voice, he said, "Wade Gray should not go to the Potions classroom tomorrow afternoon. Other students will be using the classroom."
Wade paused. He thought for a moment before returning the water glass to its place.
During lunch today, he had been sitting near Prewett, and pretending to casually bring it up, told Padma that he would be going to the Potions classroom tomorrow to practice Shrinking Solution.
Wade had originally considered whether he should subtly mention it around the Slytherin students—but it seemed unnecessary now.
As for Mickey—after their last conversation, he seemed to have learned some kind of "bug-exploiting" trick. Now he swayed slightly, drinking his water very carefully, looking very happy, and no longer punishing himself for it.
Wade smiled and asked, "Are there any older students?"
"No," Mickey said. "All like Wade Gray."
"How many students will be using the Potions classroom?"
"Uh..." The house-elf hesitated. "Six? Seven? Six?"
"Six or seven people... someone might not go?" Wade asked.
Mickey shook his head. "They think she's with them, but she's not."
"I see." Wade took out a small sheet of the Book of Friends and handed it to Mickey, saying, "I think you know how to use this? Please let me know tomorrow if the Potions classroom is inconvenient, alright?"
"Yes, Mickey will do it—Mickey is very happy to help Wade Gray." Mickey happily bowed, and with a "pop," disappeared with the Book of Friends.
"Wade, have you noticed—" In History of Magic class, Michael looked left and right, then lowered his voice. "Slytherin is a bit strange today?"
"How so?" Wade asked.
"Just now at the door, Zabini actually smiled at me, it was quite creepy," Michael rubbed his arms. "Those guys aren't planning anything bad, are they?"
Slytherin students generally had a bad reputation, but they stuck together tightly. Ever since Wade and Malfoy and others had a conflict in the corridor, other Slytherin students no longer greeted them. Even in the classroom, the two sides were clearly divided and wouldn't mix.
However, the conflict between them hadn't escalated to involve the two houses. Nor was it like Gryffindor and Slytherin, who consistently sought trouble with each other.
"Ditch the 'aren't'," Wade whispered. "They're planning to ambush me!"
"Ambush you... in the Potions classroom?" Michael realized. "No wonder you suddenly brought up Potions yesterday... Are you planning to wait for them to prepare, then report them to a professor? Or..."
His eyes darted around, and he said excitedly in an even lower voice, "Lure Professor Snape there—"