Wade glanced at him and shook his head.
"Uh..." Michael froze. "You're not going with that idea? So, you're planning to—"
"I'll go by myself," Wade said.
"—Got it." Michael nodded. "I'll round everyone up."
"No, Michael. I mean—I'll go by myself," Wade emphasized again.
Michael's eyes instantly widened, his face filled with astonishment. After a moment, he frowned and said, "Who are you? You're not my friend Wade—you're some Gryffindor impostor, aren't you?"
Wade was speechless. "—I'm not joking."
"Are you crazy?" Michael's voice was serious and urgent, almost a shout. "They're a group, and you're just one!"
"Yeah, I know." Wade patted his arm to calm him down—Michael's reaction was too loud, even Professor Binns, who was droning on, looked over.
Michael quickly lowered his head, holding up his History of Magic textbook to block the professor's gaze. He then turned back, glaring fiercely at Wade, and gritted his teeth, "Normal students know that when a group of people wants to bully you, the right thing to do is report it to a professor!"
"Yes, you're right," Wade said just as quietly. "But then, the Slytherins will think we're cowards and bookworms who only know how to tattle to professors. They failed this time, so they'll definitely cook up another scheme."
"Then let's give them a lesson they'll never forget!" Michael's eyes seemed particularly deep. "Listen, I have an idea—Professor Snape has Potions with the fourth-years this afternoon. After class, you go and ask him a question, subtly keeping him occupied. Then I'll find someone to spread the word to the Slytherins, making them think you're alone over there, so they can throw a few Dungbombs as a greeting..."
"And then Snape, drowned in Dungbombs, will rip them apart alive?" Wade countered.
"How about that, isn't it great?" Michael asked eagerly.
Wade nodded. "It's great."
"Then we—"
"I still plan to go by myself," Wade insisted stubbornly.
Michael fell silent for a moment, then said faintly, "Don't tell me—you were so touched by Harry and Neville's efforts that you've decided to lean towards Gryffindor?"
"How could that be?" Wade chuckled wryly. "I just... hmm... I can ensure I won't suffer any loss, and... I don't want to exploit Professor Snape's goodwill and sense of responsibility..."
Michael went silent.
He slumped onto the table as if all strength had left him, sighing helplessly. "Wade—people with too much moral sense are bound to suffer losses—"
Wade couldn't help but smile.
"Not this time, at least," he said.
Wade was very grateful that Michael was constantly thinking of him, even willing to offend the Slytherins and attempt to use Professor Snape. However, there were some things he couldn't tell Michael.
For example, Voldemort or the Death Eaters would visit the school annually from now on, and the situation they would face in the future would be far more brutal, with many deaths, even including Dumbledore, who seemed all-powerful in the students' eyes.
For example, when the Slytherins confronted him, there would be several house-elves in the school constantly monitoring the situation, so he wouldn't actually be in any danger.
And... Michael's guess was correct; he had indeed been somewhat moved by Harry and Neville.
Watching them get hurt repeatedly in their padded, cushion-filled Umbrella Room, only to get back up and train again, Wade was reminded of the little savior in the story who, even without mastering Expelliarmus, went alone to face Quirrell and Voldemort.
Of course, Wade still thought he was too reckless... but from another perspective, was he perhaps being too cautious and lacking courage?
If, in an environment where safety was over ninety percent assured, and even accidents could be quickly resolved, he couldn't directly confront the threats of a few children, but instead had to resort to schemes and trick others into solving it for him... then, after Voldemort's resurrection, would he just tuck his tail between his legs and flee Britain?
—Even if he had to leave this land someday, it should be with dignity and integrity, not abandoning friends and mentors, dreams and future, fleeing with his parents like a homeless dog.
Furthermore, it wasn't just Harry and the others who were undergoing combat training during this time; Wade was also observing, learning, and growing from the duels. He found that even the top performers, Harry and Hermione, essentially fought stationary—they lacked flexibility, knew few spells, and the power of their spells was very limited.
When an opponent's spell came at them, it wasn't that they didn't want to move and dodge. But if they moved, their wand movements would also change, and their own spells would easily fail or go astray—this was true for both of them, and the Slytherin students couldn't be much stronger.
This was the normal level for first-year students.
So, even if he faced twice as many people, Wade couldn't think of a reason why he would lose.
Coincidentally, the Herbology class that afternoon was again shared by Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Although both sides kept their distance, some of the Slytherins' malice was almost palpable.
They weren't acting masters; holding a secret all day was their limit. But the glances exchanged, and the occasional triumphant and gloating looks they shot at Wade, completely revealed their intentions, making even students unrelated to the matter aware.
"Wade, the Slytherins seem to be up to something nasty."
During the practical session, Anthony Goldstein specifically came over and said to Wade, "Let's all walk together after class, so they don't bother you."
Wade looked at him, then over his shoulder at the other students behind him. He shook his head amidst their subtle looks of concern, smiling. "Thanks—but no need. I've got it handled."
Goldstein turned to Michael and said, "Michael—"
"Don't bother," Michael shrugged. "When this guy gets stubborn, no one can persuade him!"
When class ended, several Slytherin students lingered outside the greenhouse, while the Ravenclaws, at Wade's signal, left with Goldstein.
"Mr. Gray—" Professor Sprout suddenly said, "These squirting sap plants need a different greenhouse. Could you help me carry them?"
Wade, who was about to leave, paused for a moment, then said, "Of course, Professor."
He picked up a pot of squirting sap, and Professor Sprout carried one herself. As they exited Greenhouse One, the Head of Hufflepuff looked at the Slytherins still loitering around the greenhouse, her face darkened, and she asked coldly, "Is there anything else you need?"
Though Professor Sprout usually appeared cheerful and easygoing, her stern expression was like a volcano about to erupt, quite intimidating.
Malfoy and the others hurriedly said, "No, nothing," then scurried away.
Wade almost burst out laughing.
Professor Sprout's gaze turned to him, and her smile immediately became warm. "Mr. Gray, I imagine you might need some help?"
Wade smiled and shook his head, his eyes clear and his smile gentle as he said, "Thank you, Professor. Just a small misunderstanding—I can handle it myself."