Chapter 68: The Orphan
“Isn’t this better for you?” Michael asked, unfazed.
“That’s true—but I think Cedric and the others would’ve preferred a fair match,” Liam said earnestly.
“Hmm… typical Hufflepuff,” Michael sighed.
Liam shot back, “Don’t pretend you don’t know you’re just calling me stupid.”
“Haha, me? Never!” Michael laughed nervously.
Honestly, if it were Ravenclaw, he knew his House wouldn’t miss such a golden opportunity.
“Actually—Wade—I was wondering—” Hermione hesitated, her voice tinged with both reluctance and quiet pleading, “Could we let Harry join the SSC too?”
The air stilled.
Liam shifted uneasily.
He saw Michael’s smile vanish instantly, replaced by a sharp, unreadable stare—first at the brown-haired girl, then at Wade.
Wade, however, remained calm. He answered without hesitation: “Of course. Harry Potter isn’t difficult to get along with. But tell me—Hermione. Are you ready?”
“—Me?” Hermione blinked, her voice trembling slightly.
“Don’t you remember how upset you were when Ron Weasley made you cry?” Wade asked gently. “Potter and the Weasleys are inseparable. If he joins, he won’t keep it from Ron. Are you truly ready to forgive him?”
His tone was soft, as if his only concern was her feelings.
“Oh, that?” Hermione exhaled, visibly relieved. She smiled. “That was ages ago. And he did try to warn his friends afterward, didn’t he? Even if it didn’t help. After spending time with them lately, I’ve realized Ron isn’t as terrible as I thought. Can’t hold a grudge over a single argument, right?”
“Turning enemies into friends—sounds like a good thing,” Liam offered, easing the tension. “Besides, Ron’s brothers are all amazing. He must have some great qualities too, right?”
Hermione wasn’t so sure about that.
Now that she’d relaxed, she felt compelled to add more: “Honestly, I never intended to pull them in. But Ron noticed Neville’s progress and kept asking. Neville wouldn’t say anything. But you know Harry—”
She paused, then continued, “If the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord return, Harry will be the first one targeted. But academically, he’s barely passing. He doesn’t master the spells we learn in class, and he’s constantly away for Quidditch practices—”
In Hermione’s eyes, Harry Potter had once been nothing more than a “famous celebrity with zero effort.”
Later, she’d revised her opinion to “a decent guy, but still lazy.”
But after truly understanding that Harry had lost both parents in the war—and was still being hunted by Voldemort and his followers—Harry’s image in her mind shifted. He now wore a halo of pitiful innocence.
What did poor grades or a love for fun have to do with anything?
The thought of Harry growing up so happily, so carefree—how much joy his parents must have felt, watching him thrive.
Yet, beneath that warmth, a deeper anxiety stirred.
Hermione was already prone to worry.
And the idea of Voldemort so close, Quirrell lurking like a shadow, Dumbledore’s mysterious plans still unfolding—while Harry spent his days eating, playing, and scrambling through assignments—sometimes copying, sometimes just piecing together scraps—was unbearable.
She wanted to crack open his skull and stuff her own anxiety into it, a tight little ball of fear.
There was no doubt Harry would face monumental challenges ahead.
And none of them could be solved by copying homework.
She’d tried teaching them the spells she’d learned in the Umbrella Room.
But while she understood Wade’s lessons perfectly—clear, logical, effortless—when she tried to teach Harry and Ron, it was like they’d been hit by a giant.
They stared blankly, confused, uncomprehending.
She didn’t know why.
All she felt was frustration.
Sometimes, she even questioned their intelligence.
But seeing Neville improve—she had to admit, maybe the problem was her teaching.
To help Harry grow stronger, joining the SSC was the only real option.
And the only thing better than that?
Dumbledore himself tutoring Harry.
But that was impossible.
So despite knowing how bold—how possibly unpopular—her request was, Hermione still made it.
And Wade agreed.
After all this time, she knew one thing for certain: if Wade said yes, everyone else would follow.
…
“Why did you agree?” Once they were alone, Michael asked, frowning.
“Harry Potter?” Wade asked, feigning ignorance.
“Of course,” Michael said seriously. “Wade, you know full well how much trouble he brings. I thought you’d avoid it like the plague.”
“I do dislike trouble,” Wade said, leaning back in his chair. “But Harry Potter? That’s a different case.”
“But—” Michael frowned. “After all this time, even Neville has seen it by now. He’s just an ordinary boy. No idea how he survived the Killing Curse. No idea why the Dark Lord vanished that night. The whole world calls him The Savior, like some infant defeated the Dark Lord single-handedly. I used to think he was born with immense magic—”
He trailed off.
“But after school,” Wade said, staring out the window, “you realized his wisdom and ability don’t match the fame of The Star of Salvation, right?”
Michael nodded. “Exactly. You’ve seen it too. You can’t possibly have any special expectations for Potter. So why—”
“Because, Michael,” Wade turned from the window, meeting his friend’s eyes, “you haven’t forgotten that Harry’s parents died fighting the Dark Lord. They fought to the very end. That night, Harry didn’t just become The Savior—he lost his entire family.”
“Y-yes, of course…” Michael’s face flushed. He stammered. “I… I understand…”
“So no matter what he did—or didn’t do—none of it matters,” Wade said softly. “Harry Potter is the heir of a martyr.”
“The heir… of a martyr?” Michael repeated, the words settling slowly.
Suddenly, it clicked—why his parents had always shut down any conversation about Harry Potter’s flaws.
“Yes,” Wade said at last. “Everyone who escaped the shadow of war. Everyone living in peace now… we all have a duty to protect him. And children like him. Don’t we?”
(End of Chapter)
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