https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-342-Weasley-Exams-Should-Also-Be-Fun/13685327/
Chapter 341: Wade: Cry if you need to
That evening, Wade arrived at the Umbrella Room just as Hagrid and Remus Lupin were meeting there.
Since entering third year, the increased workload had made academic pressure heavier for everyone. To keep up with assignments, most students gathered in the Umbrella Room nearly every night.
Though Hermione strictly forbade copying assignments, discussing ideas with friends often helped untangle even the most confusing essay topics.
Among them, Neville was always the last to finish—slow to react, poor memory, and always the most diligent. But tonight, Wade noticed something was off.
Neville wasn’t writing. He hadn’t even opened his books. Instead, he was in the Practice Room, repeatedly casting spells at wooden dummies.
“Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Blazing Flame Spell! Stupefy!”
Spells shot out, their light flaring across the room. The dummies were already cracked and splintered in several places, yet Neville didn’t stop. Sweat poured from his brow as he leaned on his knees, panting, then immediately lifted his wand again.
Padma peeked in, quickly pulled her head back, and shook her head at the others.
Hermione sighed. Harry looked equally helpless.
Wade frowned. “What’s wrong with Neville today? Did he argue with Malfoy again?”
“No,” Harry said, voice tight with anger. “It’s Snape. He’s always had it in for us.”
“What happened?” Wade asked.
“I’ll explain,” Hermione said, closing her book softly. “Today in Potions, we were brewing Shrinking Potion. Neville accidentally added too much rat bile... To fix it, he added a few more drops of water centipede extract…”
“Then Snape flew into a rage. He said he’d make Neville feed the potion to Lefu after class—if it failed, Lefu would be poisoned and die.”
Lefu was Neville’s toad. Though ugly and prone to wandering off, Neville treasured him deeply.
“Then?” Wade asked, eyeing Neville’s hunched, haunted expression. “Did Lefu die?”
“No,” Harry shook his head. “Hermione helped. The potion worked perfectly. But after class, Neville… he just… changed.”
He gestured toward Neville’s table.
There, beside Neville’s books, sat a shallow bowl filled with soil and a small amount of water. Lefu lay inside, belly rising and falling slowly—dazed, still.
Wade didn’t move. He took a quiet step back. “But Shrinking Potion was supposed to turn him into a tadpole. Why is he still full-grown?”
“Originally, he did shrink into a tadpole,” Hermione explained. “But before class ended, Professor Snape dropped a few drops of the potion into Lefu’s bowl. It reversed the effect—brought him back.”
“Ah…” Wade nodded slowly, thoughtful.
He suddenly realized: most of his potion reserves were filled with poisons, antidotes, Polyjuice Potion—useful, yes, but he hadn’t considered Shrinking Potion enough. A single vial wasn’t enough. He should stock more.
In a way, it could mimic time reversal.
Shrinking Potion was unpredictable. Sometimes it made the drinker younger. Other times, it physically shrank them.
Legends surrounded it.
Zigmond Bachi, the potion’s creator, once gave it to two brothers. Both were reduced to beetle-sized. Terrified of being eaten by their own cat, they hid under a cupboard for days until the effect wore off.
Another man, Samuel Plenquet, after being persecuted by a Muggle village, dumped Shrinking Potion into their well. Then he chased the now-miniature villagers through the streets in flat-topped boots.
And even when the same ingredients and process were used—yielding the same bright green liquid—the result could vary wildly. No one could predict what the potion would do, even the brewer.
But to Wade, it didn’t matter. Regardless of outcome, it always weakened the drinker. Perfect.
“Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!”
Neville rested briefly, then resumed.
The constant spellcasting drained him. Magic fatigue wasn’t just exhausting—it could harm his future abilities. Everyone watched with growing concern, but no one knew how to stop him.
He’s fine now, isn’t he?
Lefu’s back. And Snape’s been targeting Neville for ages. He always bounces back. Why is this different?
Wade placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’ll go check. You two keep working.”
Inside the Practice Room, Wade saw Neville silently lifting broken dummies, then trying to repair them with the Restoration Spell.
But the damage was too deep. No matter how many times he cast the spell, the light flared—and the dummies cracked again.
Kneeling on the floor, he chanted, over and over, voice breaking:
“Restoration Spell! Restoration Spell! Restoration Spell!!!”
Sweat dripped from his face—so much that it looked like tears.
Wade suddenly understood.
He froze at the doorway, feet rooted, chest tight.
Minutes passed. After countless failed attempts, Neville finally gave up. He rested his forehead against a dummy, his broad back hunched, curling inward like a ball.
Wade hesitated. Then stepped forward.
“Neville.”
Neville looked up. Wade thought he might be crying—but he wasn’t. His face was pale. Sweat slicked his forehead. His eyes were blank, hollow, utterly drained.
“Wade,” Neville murmured, as if recognizing him only after a long delay.
He wiped the stains from the dummy with his sleeve, head bowed. “Sorry… Liam’s wooden target… I ruined it.”
Wade didn’t say, It’s no big deal. Instead, he sat down beside him.
“Is that all you want to say?”
Neville blinked slowly. “I shouldn’t have snapped today. Hermione helped me so much… I didn’t even thank her.”
“Don’t apologize,” Wade cut in, pulling Neville close with one arm. “You don’t need to.”
Neville, caught off guard, braced himself on the floor. His calm shattered. His mouth opened in surprise.
“If you’re hurting,” Wade said quietly, “just cry. It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll stay with you. I know… I know how hard this is.”
After a long silence, a broken, ragged sob finally broke through.
Wade knew.
Seeing his friend forced to drink that potion—it must have brought back memories of his parents, broken and tortured by Death Eaters.
Why was he so obsessed with fixing those dummies?
Because they were like his parents—irreparable, shattered beyond repair.
He couldn’t protect them. He couldn’t heal them.
Lefu was safe. But his parents were still in St. Mungo’s.
Wade gently patted Neville’s shoulder. A silent sigh escaped him.
(End of Chapter)
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