章 73: 73
Chapter 73: Clubs and Bullying
After finishing his rigorous training, Harry headed to the Great Hall for dinner and spotted Ron and Hermione at the long table. Hermione was engrossed in a book, while Ron pondered over a piece of bread.
"You know what?" Ron whispered as Harry approached, his voice low. "I've discovered a profound truth."
"What is it?" Harry asked, curious, while filling his plate.
"Ah," Ron turned to him, a serious expression on his face. "Skipping lunch makes dinner taste so much better!" He took a big bite of his bread.
"I figured out a truth when I was three," Harry mimicked, taking a large bite of his sandwich.
"Pray tell, Mr. Potter," Ron extended a hand, feigning formality.
"If you're exhausted and hungry, any meal becomes a feast!" Harry grinned and finished his sandwich in one go.
Hermione glanced up from her book, marking notes heavily. Once Harry had satisfied his hunger, she frowned and remarked, "With the game approaching, why is the team training so intensely?"
"Well, because the game is near," Harry sighed, feeling his stomach tighten. "And Snape is the referee."
"Listen, mate, Snape must hold a grudge since you beat Slytherin last time," Ron suggested. "Why not fake an injury and sit out?"
Hermione snorted but refrained from correcting their "persecution complex."
Harry grimaced. "I can't quit the game—Gryffindor doesn't have a backup Seeker. If I quit, Gryffindor won't be able to compete."
"If you're worried about Snape or—anyone else—harming you, focus on improving your magic instead of daydreaming," Hermione said seriously, careful not to mention Professor Quirrell. "Harry, we were supposed to go to the Umbrella Room yesterday afternoon. I told everyone."
"Yes, I'm sorry," Harry apologized sheepishly. "But Wood suddenly called for training—"
"It rained, and Hufflepuff didn't want the players' conditions affected, so they canceled our reservation. Wood hurriedly rescheduled—" Hermione said, displeased. "As if it would have been taken otherwise."
"Don't say that," Harry defended. "Wood's also thinking of the House Cup—if we beat Hufflepuff, we'll lead Slytherin for the first time in seven years—"
Harry wasn't usually so humble with his friends, but Hermione had been lending him notes, helping with homework, guiding him through "History of Magic" essays, and teaching him practical spells...
Harry wasn't heartless. Despite his tough exterior, he sensed Hermione's genuine concern and selfless assistance. He felt himself soften around her, even restraining his usual brashness.
"Hermione, what's this 'SSC' you keep mentioning? Why haven't we heard of it?" Ron interrupted.
Hermione frowned. "Don't call it that! SSC stands for Star Chasers. It's undoubtedly the best study club at Hogwarts, at least for first-years."
Ron winced, a mix of discomfort and admiration. "Study club... impressive, Hermione!"
Harry pondered.
Hogwarts boasted numerous clubs like the Gobstone Club or the Magical Herb Club. Senior students often frequented them. Harry and Ron knew of a few but hadn't joined any.
"It's just a way to pass the time. Don't expect to learn anything useful."
Ron once warned Harry privately when clubs invited him. "New members often face challenges from old ones—tasks that are difficult or embarrassing, disguised as tests."
With five older brothers, Ron seemed experienced. Harry trusted his advice and declined all club invitations.
But now, another close friend recommended a club known to significantly enhance magical skills. Given Quirrell's lackluster teaching, Harry was intrigued. He hoped to master magic for crucial moments and handle nuisances like Malfoy effortlessly.
Yet Harry considered Ron's feelings. He didn't want Ron to feel abandoned, so he hesitated.
After dinner, as they prepared to leave, Hermione reminded Harry, "Comb your hair—make a good impression—"
In the corridor, arrogant laughter erupted, followed by jeering from students.
Harry scowled. "Malfoy... must be up to no good!"
Before anyone could stop him, Harry bolted. Ron hurried after him, and Hermione reluctantly followed.
In the corridor, Neville was surrounded by Slytherins. Holding his wand, he stuttered, "M-Malfoy, w-what do you want?"
Draco Malfoy tapped his wand against his palm, smirking. "Longbottom, I've been practicing a new spell and need a test subject."
The Slytherins chuckled darkly.
Neville pointed his wand nervously. "D-Don't come near me—I'll tell the professor—"
"Stand still!"
Malfoy snapped, casting a spell that bound Neville's legs together like pillars.
Neville fell, face red, struggling to stand but floundering like a fish out of water.
The Slytherins erupted in laughter. One kicked Neville's wand away.
Malfoy grinned triumphantly, like a magician who'd pulled off a dazzling trick. Turning, he taunted, "Tell the professor? Merlin, you're a coward, Longbottom. Are you sure you belong in Gryffindor, or did the Sorting Hat make a mistake?"
"Where should he go, Draco?" a high-pitched girl chimed in.
"Good question, Pansy," Malfoy teased. "Maybe the rubbish bin?"
Neville choked back tears.
The Slytherins cackled madly.
"Let him go, Malfoy!"
Harry Potter charged into the corridor like a thunderbolt.
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