บท 89: Chapter 89: Good Intentions, Bad Intentions
Wade glanced at Michael and shook his head.
"Uh..." Michael was stunned. "That's not your plan? Then what are you going to do—?"
"I'm going by myself," Wade said.
"—Got it." Michael nodded. "I'll gather everyone."
"No, Michael. I meant—I'm going by myself," Wade emphasized again.
Michael's eyes widened instantly, and his face was full of shock. After a moment, he frowned and said, "Who are you? You're not my friend Wade—are you some Gryffindor pretending to be him?"
Wade was speechless. "I'm not joking."
"Are you insane?" Michael said, now serious and almost shouting. "They're a whole group, and you're just one person!"
"Yeah, I know."
Wade patted Michael's arm, signaling him to calm down—Michael's reaction was so intense that even Professor Binns, who was always slow and droning in his lectures, looked over.
Michael quickly lowered his head, hiding behind his History of Magic textbook to avoid the professor's gaze.
Then he turned back to Wade, glaring at him fiercely, and hissed through clenched teeth, "Any normal student would know that when a group wants to bully you, the right thing to do is report it to the professor!"
"Yes, you're right," Wade whispered back. "But then, the Slytherins will just think we're cowards and tattletales. If they fail this time, they'll definitely cook up another scheme next time."
"Then give them a lesson they'll never forget!" Michael's eyes gleamed with a strange intensity.
"Listen, I have an idea—Professor Snape has a fourth-year Potions class in the afternoon. After class, you ask him a question to keep him busy, and I'll spread the word to Slytherin, making them think you're alone in the Potions room.
Then we could toss a few dungbombs at them as a little greeting—"
"And then Snape, covered in dungbombs, will dismember them on the spot?" Wade retorted.
"Isn't that a great plan?" Michael asked eagerly.
Wade nodded. "Brilliant."
"So, shall we—"
"I still plan to go by myself," Wade stubbornly repeated.
Michael was silent for a moment before he spoke softly, "Don't tell me—you're feeling inspired by watching Harry and Neville work so hard, and now you're leaning toward Gryffindor?"
"Of course not," Wade chuckled, shaking his head. "I just... well... I can make sure I won't suffer any losses. Besides, I don't want to take advantage of Professor Snape's kindness and sense of responsibility."
Michael went quiet again, then collapsed against the table, sighing helplessly. "Wade—being too moral will only get you hurt."
Wade couldn't help but laugh.
"Not this time, at least," he replied.
Wade genuinely appreciated how Michael was always looking out for him, even willing to offend the Slytherins and manipulate Professor Snape. But there were some things Wade just couldn't explain to him.
For example, how Voldemort or the Death Eaters would roam the school grounds every year in the future, or how the situation they'd face would be far more brutal, with many deaths—perhaps even including Dumbledore, the figure everyone believed was invincible.
Or how, when Slytherins targeted him, there would be several house-elves in the school watching the situation closely, ensuring he would never truly be in danger.
And yes, Michael's hunch was right—Wade had been moved by Harry and Neville's efforts.
Watching them repeatedly get hurt while training in the cushion-walled Umbrella Room, only to get back up and keep going, reminded Wade of the story's young hero. A boy who, despite not having mastered even the Disarming Charm, still faced Quirrell and Voldemort alone.
Of course, Wade still thought Harry had been reckless back then... but looking at it from a different perspective, perhaps he himself had been too cautious, appearing to lack courage.
If, in a situation where the odds were already 90% in his favor, where even in the case of an accident he would be protected, he couldn't face a few schoolchildren's threats head-on and had to resort to schemes and lies to solve things... What would he do when Voldemort resurrected? Would he just tuck tail and flee the country?
Even if one day he had to leave this land, it should be with honor and dignity, not abandoning his friends, teachers, dreams, and future like a coward, fleeing with his parents like a beaten dog.
Besides, it wasn't just Harry and the others who had been training during this time—Wade had also been observing, learning, and growing through their duels.
He realized that even the best among them, like Harry and Hermione, were limited to static spellcasting. They lacked flexibility, didn't know how to adapt, had a limited range of spells, and the power of their magic was far from overwhelming.
When their opponent's spells came flying at them, it wasn't that they didn't want to dodge. But the moment they moved, their magical gestures would change, and their own spells would either fail or miss the target.
Both Harry and Hermione had this issue, and the Slytherin students couldn't be much better.
This was the normal level for first-year students.
So even if he had to face twice as many people, Wade couldn't think of any reason why he would lose.
...
As it happened, that afternoon's Herbology class was again shared between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Although both groups kept their distance, the malice from some of the Slytherins was almost tangible.
They weren't exactly master actors—managing to keep their plans a secret for an entire day was already pushing their limits.
But the sly glances, the smug and gloating looks they shot toward Wade, said everything they wanted to, making even the students uninvolved in the situation aware that something was up.
"Wade, I think the Slytherins are planning something nasty," Anthony Goldstein said, coming over during the practical part of the lesson. "We should all walk out together after class, just to keep them from causing trouble for you."
Wade looked at him, then passed his shoulder to the other concerned classmates behind him. He shook his head with a smile and said, "Thanks, but that won't be necessary. I've got it under control."
Goldstein then turned to Michael, who shrugged. "Don't bother. Once this guy makes up his mind, no one can talk him out of it."
By the time class ended, a few of the Slytherins were lingering outside the greenhouse, dragging their feet. At Wade's signal, the Ravenclaws followed Goldstein and left.
"Mr. Grey—" Professor Sprout suddenly called out, "These dripping daisies need to be moved to another greenhouse. Could you help me with that?"
Wade, who had been about to leave, paused for a moment before responding, "Of course, Professor."
He picked up a pot of dripping daisies while Professor Sprout carried another. As they walked out of Greenhouse One, Sprout noticed the Slytherin students loitering around outside and her face darkened.
She asked in a stern voice, "Do you have any business here?"
Despite her usual cheerful and easygoing demeanor, when Professor Sprout put on her serious face, it was like a volcano on the verge of erupting—quite intimidating.
Malfoy and the others quickly stammered, "No, no!" and hurried off.
Wade almost burst out laughing.
Professor Sprout then turned her gaze toward him, and her expression softened immediately. "Mr. Grey, do you need any help?"
Wade smiled and shook his head, his eyes were bright and his smile was gentle. "Thank you, Professor. It's just a small misunderstanding—I can handle it myself."
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