Chapter 88: 88
Chapter 88: Practice, News
"Boom!"
The spell's light exploded, sending Harry flying backward to a soft cushion against the wall, a low groan escaping him.
Hermione hurried over. "Oh, Harry! Are you alright?"
"It hit my nose," Harry replied, voice muffled. He fetched some Essence of Dittany from a shelf, deftly applying it while wiping blood with a tissue.
Neville handed back his wand. "Thanks, Neville."
The wound healed slowly. Harry looked up. "I think my Protego had some effect, right?"
"Indeed, your incantation was a bit off," Wade confirmed, adjusting his glasses. "But it was weak and ineffective. Remember, 'Pro-tay-goh' —be decisive in your pronunciation. It's more about practice than finesse."
"I get it." Harry took a deep breath, adjusted his grip on the wand.
"Ready to continue?"
"Absolutely!"
Harry stood firm, wand poised. "Protego!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Spells clashed; Harry's wand flew from his grip.
"Has Harry been pushing himself too hard lately?" Michael asked Neville, returning. "He's been hurt several times today."
"A bit," Neville replied vaguely. "Should we keep practicing the Disarming Charm?"
"Listen, Neville, you can't learn spells without rest," Michael reclined lazily. "You're not being hunted by You Know Who—why strain?"
Among the SSC members, aside from Wade, Harry progressed the most, mastering the Disarming Charm and making strides with the Armor charm. Neville, however, struggled, yet worked hardest of all.
Michael empathized with Neville's repeated failures and silent perseverance.
Neville remained silent, in stance, eyes on Michael.
"...," Michael squirmed, discomfort prickling like ants. He lingered on the ground, battling his conscience before rising. "Why am I here, studying fifth and sixth-year spells? I won't come tomorrow night... I need a break, games... even just lounging by the fireplace doing nothing."
Neville chuckled.
Initially, Neville feared Michael might quit training. But he always returned, punctual.
"If he doesn't, you'll lack a sparring partner. Or we can rotate exercises, but someone will always be alone," Hermione pointed out after training. "He's simply lazy. Let's not let that hinder those willing to work hard."
Neville sighed apologetically. "But I still can't master the Disarming Charm... I'm sorry for his efforts."
"Yeah, it's odd—" Hermione frowned, puzzled. "Wade taught you thoroughly. Your movements and spells are fine. So why can't you succeed?"
"Hermione," Harry interjected hastily. "Asking a weaker student why they can't learn something simple—doesn't it imply they're stupid?"
Neville wasn't sensitive; he stared at his wand, lost in thought.
...
Later that evening, Wade emerged from a shower, spotting a familiar house-elf in his room.
"McGee? Take a seat."
Wade dropped his towel, poured water for McGee, and himself. He drank his in a gulp.
McGee, standing, held his cup tightly, eyes watery. "Wade Grey shouldn't go to the Potions classroom tomorrow. Others will use it."
Wade paused, reflecting. At lunch, near Prewett, he casually mentioned attending Potions to practice the Shrinking Potion.
Originally, Wade pondered subtly dropping it to Slytherins—now unnecessary.
McGee seemed more adept since their last talk, carefully sipping water. He seemed content, no self-punishment in sight.
Wade smiled. "Any senior students?"
"No," McGee answered. "Same as Wade Grey."
"How many students are using the Potions classroom?"
McGee hesitated. "Six? Seven? Six?"
"Six or seven... might one not attend?" Wade queried.
McGee shook his head. "They thought she was in their group but she's not."
"Understood." Wade retrieved a small Friend Book, handing it to McGee. "You know how to use this? If you can't go to Potions, let me know, okay?"
"Okay, McGee will—McGee gladly helps Wade Grey." With a snap, McGee vanished.
...
"Wade, have you noticed—" Michael whispered in History of Magic. "Slytherin's acting strange today."
"What do you mean?" Wade asked.
"Zabini actually smiled at me earlier. Creeped me out." Michael shivered. "Are they planning something?"
Slytherins had a poor reputation but were close-knit. Since Wade's conflict with Malfoy, they avoided each other—even in class, clearly divided, avoiding trouble akin to Gryffindor and Slytherin.
"Remove 'might.'" Wade lowered his voice. "They're planning to ambush me!"
"Ambush... in the Potions classroom?" Michael gasped. "No wonder you brought up Potions yesterday... Planning to wait, report to Snape? Or..."
Eyes glinting, he whispered excitedly, "Lure Professor Snape—"
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