https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-612-Going-to-Ask-for-a-Dance-Partner/13685787/
Chapter 611: The Toad
December at Hogwarts was wrapped in a biting wind, laced with rain and snow that fell in sudden, sharp bursts. The howling gusts tore through the castle’s corridors, leaving every passing student shivering in their robes.
Every time Wade passed the greenhouses and cut across the lawn, he’d catch sight of Hagrid bustling about like a man possessed. His relationship with Madame Maxime seemed to be progressing remarkably well—so much so that Hagrid now strutted around like a peacock, dazzling in bright, flamboyant attire, going out of his way to please her, even going so far as to dote on the Sigil Horses she had brought to the school.
Just two days prior, Wade had seen Hagrid construct a massive stable for the majestic creatures. These past few days, he’d been busy knitting them handcrafted woolen coats, each one carefully embroidered with intricate patterns. Care of Magical Creatures class had now become a lesson in how to care for Sigil Horses—something no Night Kneazle at Hogwarts had ever received.
At the start of one class, Hagrid arrived carrying a giant barrel, beaming with excitement. “Look here!” he announced. “Twelve-year-old pure malt whiskey—Sigil Horses’ favorite! Mix it into their feed—”
By the end of the lesson, the air was thick with the overpowering scent of alcohol. Several students were visibly woozy. Michael even sneaked a sip of the whiskey meant for the horses, and by the time class ended, his neck was flushed red, his speech slurred, and he nearly crashed into a tree—only barely saved by Wade’s quick grab.
Michael squinted at the figure beside him, then blinked in sudden shock. “Merlin’s beard… Wade, how come you never told me… you’ve got a pair of Weasley Twins?”
Wade sighed. “You’re drunk, Michael.”
He’d been alert from the moment Hagrid arrived with the barrel. Already, he’d drawn his wand and transformed a handkerchief into a filtering mask—enough to keep him from succumbing to the intoxicating fumes like the others.
Michael waved his hands frantically. “No, no—I’m not drunk! I just had a tiny sip!”
He stumbled forward, trying to lean on Padma for support, but was yanked back with a look of utter disdain from the girl. Wade shook his head. “Come on. The Medical Wing has a sobering potion.”
“O-okay… fine… Medical Wing…” Michael burped, mumbling, “I think I can’t find my feet…”
The stone steps were dusted with frost. Michael barely managed to step onto the first one when his leg gave out, nearly sending him to his knees. A firm grip caught his arm.
“Thanks, brother… you just saved my life,” Michael mumbled, dazed.
He dragged himself up the staircase, only for the oak door ahead to swing open abruptly. Professor McGonagall stood there like a statue carved from granite, her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin, severe line.
“Michael Conner,” she said coldly, “is this the attitude you bring to class?”
Her voice was like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. Michael blinked, then snapped upright in shock, a cold sweat breaking out across his back. The drunken haze vanished instantly.
“Y-yes, Professor!” he stammered, straightening his posture. “I—I was just feeding the Sigil Horses… I didn’t mean to—”
“Didn’t mean to?” McGonagall arched a brow. “So you accidentally stole and drank from their feed?”
Michael opened his mouth, then closed it. No words.
“Five points from Ravenclaw, Michael Conner,” she said flatly. “And as punishment for letting the Sigil Horses go hungry, you’ll report to Professor Hagrid tonight at seven to help prepare their feed. Any objections?”
“No, Professor,” Michael mumbled, shoulders slumped.
Then her gaze shifted to Wade. The sternness in her expression softened slightly.
“Gray, I’m glad you’ve kept your wits about you. But I hope that next time you see a classmate making such… unwise decisions, you’ll intervene instead of standing by and letting them make a fool of themselves.”
“I understand, Professor. I’m sorry,” Wade said, bowing his head in mock contrition.
Professor McGonagall nodded approvingly. “Go to the pub. Don’t disturb the afternoon classes.”
Once she’d disappeared down the corridor, Michael exhaled deeply. “Phew. Glad it was McGonagall. If it had been Snape, he’d’ve docked points from you too.”
Before he could finish, a cold, dry voice cut through the air behind them.
“Seems McGonagall’s punishment didn’t have much of a deterrent effect, does it, Michael Conner?”
Michael froze. His neck creaked like an old hinge as he slowly turned. Halfway through, he caught sight of the familiar black robes.
“Five points from Ravenclaw,” Snape drawled, “for your disrespect toward a professor. Another five for violating the rule against drinking in public. And—”
He paused, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. “As you wished, Wade Gray witnessed an act of theft involving a teaching aid… and did nothing. Ten points from Ravenclaw.”
Without waiting for protest, Snape turned on his heel and strode away, his robes flaring behind him like the wings of a bat.
Only Michael and Wade remained, standing in stunned silence.
Michael finally burst out, “That’s not fair! How could he take points from you like that?”
“Keep your voice down,” Wade warned. “Or he’ll come back and take more.”
“But Snape’s been worse than usual today,” Michael said, guilt flashing across his face. “He’s never attacked you for no reason… this is all my fault.”
“No,” Wade said. “Actually, it’s the other way around. It’s you who’s been dragged into this because of me.”
Daphne stepped onto the staircase behind them, her tone gentle. “Because Slytherin has no champions left, and you two made it through to the second round of the Tournament…”
She trailed off.
Michael frowned. “Jealousy?”
Daphne offered a quiet nod. “I’d guess that’s the reason. As for Snape’s actual thoughts—well, I can’t say.”
She took over the responsibility of guiding Michael, leaving Wade free to head toward the Umbrella Room to finish his assignment.
…
Far away, over two hundred miles from Hogwarts, in a frozen pond hidden among the trees, a toad shivered through the relentless cold. It was stiff with frost, its limbs numb, yet it clung desperately to memories of warmth—of soft blankets, of a fireplace crackling with pine logs, of thick walls that kept the wind at bay.
But the creature’s instincts were too strong to resist. With clumsy, laborious movements, it dragged itself through the wet mud, curling into a tiny, cramped burrow. Its heartbeat slowed. Its body grew colder, harder—like a chunk of ice.
Just as darkness began to swallow consciousness, it felt a flicker of warmth. A vision returned.
A fireplace burned in the hearth, casting a golden glow across the living room. Narcissa sat in her armchair, cradling a teacup, gazing into the flames with a faint smile. At her feet, Draco—round-faced and grinning—zoomed around on a toy broomstick, shouting with delight, only to be startled by his own echo.
The Serpent-Head Walking Staff rested beside her, its familiar, cool touch bringing a sense of peace.
All ambition, scheming, and fear melted away in the illusion of home. The toad lay still in the soil, its breath fading.
A single tear traced a path down its cold, wrinkled skin.
(End of Chapter)
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