https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-343-You-Should-Return-to-the-Common-Room-Gray/13685328/
Chapter 342: Weasley: Exams Should Also Be Fun
After crying, Neville felt much better. Embarrassed, he apologized to the group, and everyone simply nodded in understanding—after all, they assumed he’d been emotionally crushed by Professor Snape’s harshness. Harry even accompanied Neville in a brief rant against Snape. In Gryffindor House, such a moment would have sparked instant cheers and solidarity. But now, Neville kept his head down, mostly silent, while Hermione shot Harry a sharp, exasperated glance.
"Potions is a rigorous subject," Hermione said bluntly. "I admit, Professor Snape… well, he is a bit harsh. But strictness isn’t necessarily a bad thing."
Harry shot back, "So you think it was fine for him to make Lefu test a potion?"
Hermione hesitated. "Well… for Professor Snape, telling if a potion is poisonous or not? He’d know instantly."
"Hermione!" Harry snapped. "We’re friends!"
"Maybe Professor Snape was just trying to push Neville to take Potions seriously," Padma said, propping her chin on her arms, tilting her head. "Even if it was extreme, I’m sure he could’ve saved Lefu if needed."
"I don’t believe Snape has that kind of mercy!" Harry fumed. "He’s just bullying Neville! It’s outrageous! I’m telling Dumbledore!"
"The Headmaster probably can’t interfere with a professor’s teaching style," Michael said. "Think about what happened with Lockhart."
Neville listened quietly to the debate—started because of him, yet somehow not really about him at all. He knew Harry stood by him not because he understood the real pain he carried, but because Harry, too, was someone who’d been on the receiving end of Snape’s needles. Hermione and Padma weren’t arguing out of spite; they simply saw the incident as minor, objectively speaking.
No one knew about Neville’s past. No one knew what it was like to grow up with parents who’d been tortured into madness and had been in St. Mungo’s Hospital for over a decade. Sympathy, like shame, was something Neville couldn’t bear.
But with Wade quietly standing beside him, he finally felt the long-lost warmth of comfort.
Then, suddenly, he realized: he hadn’t heard Wade’s voice all this time.
He glanced around. No sign of him. "Where’s Wade?" Neville asked Theo.
"He said he had something to do. Left early," Theo replied.
"Oh." Neville returned to his books, opening them to prepare for today’s assignment.
…
In the cauldron, the green liquid bubbled steadily. Wade checked the time, then lifted it from the fire. He stirred it a few times with the needle, then set it aside to cool.
As he waited, the potion’s color faded—slowly, gradually—until it was completely transparent. He poured a small portion into a vial, slipped it into his pocket. The rest he transferred into a large crystal vial, then stored it safely in the closet space.
With the small vial in hand, he left the Room of Requirement, descending the stairs.
It was nearly curfew. The corridor was empty. Most portraits were asleep. Only the torches on the walls burned quietly in the dark. Wade’s footsteps echoed softly—tap, tap—as his shadow stretched long and thin under the flickering light, casting the silhouette of a broad-shouldered, slender-legged stranger.
Two shadowy figures, startled by the sound and the moving shadow, darted into the niche behind a nearby statue, pressing themselves tightly against the wall, their faces nearly flattened.
Wade froze when he saw the two names etched on the statue’s surface. He blinked—then noticed the two huddled figures. He sighed inwardly.
"Fred, George. What are you doing?"
Their sudden shout startled the twins. But upon seeing Wade, they relaxed.
"Phew! It’s just you, Wade. We thought it was Filch!" Fred said, calmly pushing George aside and brushing off his clothes.
George raised an imaginary glass in a toast. "We’re off to the Three Broomsticks for a drink. Want to join us, Wade?"
Wade shook his head. "I’ve got something to do. And you two are in your OWL year. Still running off to drink? What about tomorrow’s classes?"
"Aw, come on, Wade! Don’t be like Hermione!" Fred groaned dramatically, clutching his head. "Even in OWL year, we can’t let life pass us by—we must pursue joy!"
"Besides, we don’t want to work for the Ministry of Magic. We’re not chasing certificates. Let’s live a little, Wade! We’re going out!" George grinned, waving as the two brothers turned and strolled toward the hunched witch statue.
Wade watched them disappear down the passage, their voices fading into the distance.
"I swear, next time I’ll bring the Marauder’s Map. That was scary!" Fred muttered.
"Yeah, but honestly? Filch isn’t patrolling much anymore. He’s too busy playing with crabs. I saw him trying to teach a cleaning crab to wipe cups!" George chuckled.
"Explains why our nighttime water levels have dropped. No more chase, no more stress! George, I’ve got a brilliant idea—"
"Perfect timing—I’ve got one too!"
They whispered excitedly as they slipped into the secret passage, their laughter fading into the dark.
Wade watched them go, then resumed his descent. He passed a few stone steps, turned a sharp corner, and passed the kitchen’s pear portrait, where several Hufflepuffs were drumming on a wooden barrel like drums.
Then, ahead of him, stood the heavy wooden door of the Potions Professor’s office.
Wade touched the pocket with the vial, raised his hand to knock—when the door suddenly swung open.
Draco Malfoy emerged, his face sour, the scent of bitterness clinging to him. He nearly collided with Wade, instinctively stepping back.
"Remember, Malfoy—don’t forget to come back tomorrow to process the ginseng root," Snape said, his tone surprisingly gentle, though still ice-cold.
Malfoy’s face darkened. He said nothing, turning on his heel and walking away.
Wade suddenly remembered—Malfoy had been punished with a full year of detentions, forced to help Snape every night, grinding ingredients, preparing solutions, handling the raw materials of potions.
If Harry and Neville knew that the leech juice used in today’s shrinking potion had likely come from Malfoy’s own hands, they’d have forgotten all about their anger.
Wade didn’t close the door. He stood in the entrance, then tapped his fingers against the frame.
"Professor? May I come in?"
Inside, Snape was waving his wand, making scattered items on the table float back into place.
Hearing the voice, he turned. His frown deepened.
"Gray. If I’m not mistaken, it’s already—"
He glanced at the clock.
"—five minutes until curfew?"
(End of Chapter)
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