Chapter 89: Good Intentions, Bad Intentions
Wade glanced at Michael and shook his head.
"Uh..." Michael was taken aback. "That's not your plan? So, you're going to—"
"I'll handle it alone," Wade stated.
"Got it." Michael nodded. "I'll alert everyone."
"No, Michael. What I mean is—I'm going alone." Wade emphasized.
Michael's eyes widened in shock. After a moment, he furrowed his brow. "Who are you? You're not my friend Wade—you're some pretend Gryffindor, right?"
Wade was speechless. "I'm serious."
"Are you out of your mind?" Michael was serious, almost shouting. "They're a group, and you're just one person!"
"Okay, understood."
Wade patted his arm to calm him down—Michael's reaction was so intense that even Professor Binns, teaching slowly, glanced their way.
Michael quickly ducked behind his "History of Magic" book, avoiding the professor's gaze. He turned back to Wade, glaring fiercely, teeth clenched. "Normal students know that when a group targets you, the best thing is to report it to the professor!"
"Yes, you're right," Wade whispered. "But if we fail this time, Slytherin will plan something more elaborate next."
"Then give them a lesson they won't forget!" Michael's eyes gleamed. "Listen, here's the plan—Professor Snape has fourth-year Potions class in the afternoon. After class, you go ask him questions and stall him. Meanwhile, I'll leak that you're alone to Slytherin. You can greet them with a few dung bombs..."
"And then Snape gets bombarded and eaten alive by dung bombs?" Wade asked.
"What do you think? Isn't it brilliant?" Michael asked eagerly.
Wade nodded. "It's something."
"Then we—"
"I've decided to go it alone," Wade insisted.
Michael fell silent for a moment, speaking softly. "Don't tell me... You were moved by Harry and Neville's efforts and decided to align more with Gryffindor?"
"Impossible," Wade chuckled awkwardly. "I just... Well... I want to ensure I'm not taking advantage of Professor Snape's kindness and sense of responsibility..."
Michael sighed in resignation.
He slumped onto the table, exhausted, and sighed helplessly. "Wade, someone too moral always ends up on the losing side..."
Wade couldn't help but laugh.
"At least not this time," he replied.
Wade appreciated Michael's concern, even if it meant risking Slytherin's wrath and exploiting Snape's leniency. But there were things he couldn't share with Michael.
Like the looming threat of Voldemort and Death Eaters visiting Hogwarts annually. The challenges ahead would be far more brutal than their current skirmishes. Many would die, even Dumbledore, seemingly omnipotent to students.
And Slytherin's confrontation—several house-elves monitored, but Wade was hardly in danger.
And... Michael wasn't wrong. Wade was indeed touched by Harry and Neville.
Watching them repeatedly injured in a cushion-filled training room, persistently rising to train again, Wade recalled the boy in the books who, unable to master Expelliarmus, faced Quirrell and Voldemort alone, Hogwarts' unlikely hero.
Sure, Wade felt he'd been rash... But then, could he afford to be overly cautious and lack courage?
In an environment where safety was over 90%, accidents were manageable. Facing threats from several children shouldn't require deceit and cunning—would he flee Britain with tail between legs when Voldemort returned?
Even if he must leave, he'd do so with dignity, not abandoning friends, teachers, dreams, and future like a coward.
Moreover, training wasn't just about Harry and others; Wade observed, learned, and grew. Even top students like Harry and Hermione were limited—they lacked versatility, knowledge of spells, and spell power.
They avoided dodging spells by staying put. But moving altered gestures, risking spell failure. Slytherins were no different.
So, even against twice as many opponents, Wade saw no reason to lose.
...
Coincidentally, afternoon Herbology remained between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Despite keeping distance, Slytherin's malice was palpable—
Not adept at acting, they struggled to hide their ill intentions. Communicating in whispers, occasional smirks aimed at Wade were clear to all.
"Wade, Slytherin seems up to no good."
During practicals, Anthony Goldstein approached Wade. "After class, let's all go together to avoid trouble from them."
Wade glanced at the Slytherins lingering near the greenhouse, smiled, and shook his head. "Thanks, but unnecessary. I know what I'm doing."
Goldstein turned to Michael. "Michael—"
"Don't bother persuading him," Michael shrugged. "He's stubborn—can't be swayed."
After class, several Slytherins loitered outside the greenhouse. Ravenclaws departed with Goldstein, following Wade's signal.
"Mr. Gray—" Professor Sprout interrupted. "These sap grasses need moving to another greenhouse. Could you assist?"
Momentarily stunned, Wade replied, "Of course, Professor."
Picking up a pot of sap grass, Wade followed Professor Sprout, Slytherins skulking in their wake. The usually cheerful professor's stern expression was intimidating.
Malfoy and others hastily retreated. "No, no," they muttered, scurrying away.
Wade nearly chuckled.
Professor Sprout turned to him, smile warm. "Mr. Gray, do you need assistance?"
Wade smiled warmly. "Thank you, Professor. Just a misunderstanding—I can manage."