Chapter 232: Safety Comes First!
The hospital bed in the Infirmary wasn’t large—but for someone of Wade’s wizarding caliber, space was never an issue. His wand rested beside the pillow, and with a casual flick, Wade expanded the bed effortlessly, easily accommodating five or six people lying down.
After sleeping through the night, the three of them awoke to a bright morning. Madam Pomfrey arrived with a potion, her expression stern as she watched Wade drink it down. After a brief examination, she signaled that he was free to go.
They dared not breathe until she’d left. Only then did Liam whisper, “Madam Pomfrey seems angry.”
“Of course she is! She hates students who don’t take care of their health,” Theo replied, equally surprised. “I’m honestly amazed she didn’t scold you.”
“Maybe because I’m a patient?” Wade shrugged casually.
In truth, he knew better. Professor Snape often sent him to deliver practice potions to the Infirmary, and Madam Pomfrey had shown him a certain leniency—enough to avoid a public reprimand. Compared to how others were treated, Wade actually felt a strange sense of gratitude.
After tidying the bed and gathering their things, Wade pulled back the curtain—whoosh—and instantly, dozens of eyes turned toward them.
Now, Wade fully understood why Theo and Liam had insisted on staying behind to accompany him.
The ward held about ten beds, mostly occupied by Slytherins—many of them students from his own class. He even spotted Crabbe, the one he’d accidentally stepped on the day before.
In the magical world, injuries caused by spells took far longer to heal than physical wounds. That’s why Wade could leave today, but many others would remain for at least another two days.
They stood silently, facing the source of the chaos—well, one of them, at least. No one spoke. No one attacked.
Despite being caught in the crossfire, most of the Slytherins now held a deeper respect for Wade. He wasn’t a Pureblood—nor even a half-blood. So what? Even all the Slytherins in his year combined couldn’t match him.
Their only reasonable response? To ignore him.
As they stepped cautiously out of the Infirmary, Michael was already waiting just outside the door, peering in with a guilty expression.
“What’s with the look?” Liam asked, puzzled.
“I was worried Madam Pomfrey might catch me,” Michael admitted. “We got a full lecture yesterday.” He glanced back inside, noticing the cold, stony stares from the Slytherins. Then he smirked. “Wade, you’re not going to believe this—but right now, they’re all ice-cold. But if you ever reach out, almost every single one of them would love to be your friend.”
“Nah,” Wade said. “Did you see Dumbledore this morning?”
“No,” Michael replied. “But I think he’s still around. I saw an owl carrying a parcel fly out of the Headmaster’s office window this morning.”
Theo turned to Wade. “Wade, do you still have Dumbledore’s Book of Friends?”
“I do. But I’d rather talk to him in person.”
Even face-to-face, Wade knew it would be hard to read Dumbledore’s thoughts—but at least he could catch the subtle shifts in expression and body language. Through parchment, there was nothing.
Dumbledore didn’t show up at breakfast. But when Wade sent a message, the reply came swiftly:
> I’ll meet you at two o’clock. I remember you have no classes then—oh, and the password is Strawberry Ice Cream.
So the morning Charms class felt painfully long to Wade.
Professor Flitwick, clearly having heard about the incident in Defense Against the Dark Arts, spent half the lesson recounting his own dueling experiences from his youth—and sharing a few key techniques.
“Move quickly, children! Don’t stand there like a Giant, waiting to be hit!” Flitwick declared, waving his wand with force. He demonstrated by letting several students surround him, attacking with spells—yet he didn’t retaliate. He simply dodged, effortlessly evading every curse.
Of course, everyone agreed that Flitwick’s agility had everything to do with his tiny frame. They refused to admit they were the Giant or ape he’d been describing.
“Alright, alright—rest for a moment,” Flitwick said, panting slightly a few minutes later.
Once the students had settled, he said, “Remember: avoiding your opponent’s spell is more important than landing one yourself. No matter who you’re fighting, don’t rush for victory. Protecting your own safety is always the top priority.”
He gave a few more examples—like a careless wizard hit by a Tarantallegra spell, dancing uncontrollably and losing all chance to fight back, easily subdued by Flitwick.
Neville raised his hand. “But what if you can’t cast a Shield Charm? How can you defend yourself?”
“There are many ways. But the simplest and fastest? Counter it with another spell.” Flitwick explained. “Spells have an invisible attraction. If two wizards cast at the same time, their spells are likely to collide—deflecting, even rebounding.”
“Check Chapter Three of Fundamentals of Charms Theory for details. Your assignment for today: write a fifteen-inch essay on the topic.”
“Oh, no…”
The groans were instant. Clearly, Flitwick had just made this up on the spot.
When students finally paired up to practice, Flitwick walked over to Wade.
“Wade, did you remember what I said?” The usually cheerful professor looked unusually serious.
“Yes, Professor,” Wade replied, lowering his head slightly. “Personal safety is the most important thing. I shouldn’t have let my pride carry me into continuing that duel with Professor Abigail.”
Flitwick nodded, a small smile forming. “It’s fine to be impulsive sometimes. You’re only a teenager, after all.”
As soon as Wade admitted his mistake, Flitwick began to defend him. “But remember—know when to stop. Walking away isn’t shameful. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Understood.”
“Even if someone calls you a coward or a weakling,” Flitwick added, winking, “you must know—those who charge in blindly and die? They’re the real fools. If you can defeat an enemy with wisdom, why must you prove your courage by bashing your head into a wall?”
Wade couldn’t help but laugh.
He had no idea who’d spread Professor Abigail’s words to Flitwick—but clearly, the professor assumed Wade had been provoked, which explained his sudden, uncharacteristic outburst.
Strange how, at breakfast, several professors at the staff table had been unusually stern. Was Professor Abigail even aware of the tension? Or was she too busy enjoying her meal?
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
