Chapter 77: Group Individual
Wade recounted everything in full detail—no embellishment, no excuses.
Even so, Professor McGonagall was furious, her nostrils flaring as if she might burst into flames at any moment.
“Bullying fellow students… and using that degrading nickname… We will not tolerate such behavior!” she declared. “Severus, I’m giving Malfoy one month of detention—minimum!”
Professor Snape stood expressionless, his face pale and hollow. Only after a long pause did he speak, voice distant and hollow:
“Of course… you’re right… Minerva… do as you see fit…”
“Excellent!” Professor McGonagall exhaled sharply, then turned to Wade. Her stern expression finally softened.
“Mr. Gray—”
“Yes, Professor,” Wade said, bowing his head. “I know I shouldn’t have used a spell on a fellow student in the corridor…”
“Ahem.” Professor Flitwick suddenly cleared his throat. “Yes, quite reckless—what if someone had been hurt? For your recklessness and impetuosity, I shall deduct five points—er…”
He glanced nervously at his two colleagues beside him.
“—five points.”
He bit his lip, then gave Wade a quick, meaningful wink—Don’t worry, we’ll make it up later.
Professor McGonagall barely suppressed a smile. “Indeed. And in recognition of your courage in defending a classmate—and successfully casting a Disarming Charm—I shall add ten points, Mr. Gray. It’s clear you… well… show exceptional skill in spellwork.”
…
“Ten points?” Michael whispered in the Umbrella Room, stunned.
“Actually, only five,” Wade corrected. “Because Professor Flitwick deducted five first.”
“I know… but still—Professor McGonagall! She doesn’t even favor Gryffindors!” Michael muttered, incredulous.
“Precisely because she’s fair, she gave Ravenclaw ten points,” Padma said calmly. “Think about what Malfoy did. A month of detention? That’s practically a gift.”
“And they didn’t get anything out of Snape either,” Theo added, dropping a piece of news no one knew. “Someone saw Slytherins going to him together to complain—got kicked out within two minutes.”
Liam nodded. “Even if Professor Snape’s usually… strict, he wouldn’t blindly favor Slytherin, would he?”
Neville hesitated. He wasn’t so sure. If they’d seen how Snape picked on them in Potions class—especially when Gryffindor and Slytherin were together—they’d realize just how far the man’s bias truly went.
As they chatted, the door to the Umbrella Room suddenly creaked open.
Only one person would come here at this hour.
Padma waved cheerfully. “Hermione!”
The brown-haired girl stepped in with bright, energetic strides, beaming.
“Good afternoon, everyone!”
“Hmm?” Padma frowned slightly. “Hermione… are you feeling different today?”
“No, no—nothing at all!” Hermione brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, a little too quickly. “Maybe I’m just… a bit too excited after hearing Malfoy got his comeuppance.”
“Mmm…” Padma eyed her doubtfully. Was that really all?
Michael, however, saw it immediately.
Hermione used to have a pair of very prominent front teeth, and her messy brown hair made her look a bit like a beaver. But today, her teeth were neat and even, her smile perfectly natural—she looked incredibly lovely.
“Wow, Hermione!” Michael said, not revealing his thoughts. “You look absolutely radiant today.”
Hermione blushed shyly, then turned to the door. “Come on in, Harry!”
Harry Potter, who had been lingering hesitantly outside, finally stepped inside. Everyone turned to look.
The boy shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his messy hair.
They’d met before, of course. Seeing a classmate in class was normal.
But seeing Harry Potter—the Harry Potter—entering their private space, their circle… that stirred something strange and special in their hearts.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Harry, flustered, mumbled:
“Uh… hi… everyone? I’m Harry Potter…”
Then he instantly regretted it.
What a stupid thing to say!
They’d been in school together for nearly a year—was there really anyone who didn’t know who he was?
Hermione had coached him on making a good impression.
And now, the very first step had already been ruined by his own stupidity.
They must think he was odd. Clumsy. Too childish.
“Are we… starting over?” Wade stood up, smiling, and extended his hand.
“Hi, Harry. I’m Wade Gray.”
One foolish mistake was bad enough.
But if someone else made the same mistake—well, the embarrassment suddenly didn’t feel so crushing.
Harry looked grateful and shook his hand firmly.
Then Michael Conner stepped forward.
“Welcome, Harry. I’m Michael Conner. I’ve been meaning to say—your grab of the Golden Snitch last match was incredible. Can’t wait to see what you do next!”
“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling shyly.
“Welcome, Harry. I’m Theo Mancini,” Theo grinned. “Next time, we’ll be facing Hufflepuff. So I’ll just say—hope you enjoy the game… and hope Hufflepuff wins.”
Harry wished he could come up with something witty to reply.
But words wouldn’t come.
Instead, his mind filled with Wood’s fiery speech in the rain:
“Hufflepuff isn’t worth a thing!”
No—that was wrong.
“Beat Hufflepuff! Win the House Cup!”
Enough—he didn’t want to make enemies.
“Give it everything! The first time in seven years! Make Professor McGonagall take notice!”
Wood roared, arms raised.
Harry: …
“I’ll give it everything,” he said before his brain could catch up.
Theo smiled. “That’s the spirit.”
“Liam Caro,” Liam said, shaking his hand. His smile was small, but warm and genuine. “I’ve never joined another group, but I’ll say this—SSC is the best.”
“Of course,” Harry replied quickly.
“Padma Patil,” Padma said, grinning as she shook his hand. “My only rule: don’t mistake me for my sister.”
“I won’t,” Harry said firmly.
The Patil twins weren’t like the Weasley twins—identical in appearance, yes, but their personalities and expressions were utterly different. No one could confuse them.
“And finally—me.” Hermione held out her hand, smiling. “Your friend… and now, an SSC member.”
“Oh—Hermione—” Harry chuckled.
In that moment, all the nervousness he’d felt when walking through the door vanished.
The playful welcome wasn’t just formality.
He felt it—truly, deeply—being welcomed into a group.
Not like his friendship with Ron.
Not like the awed curiosity some students showed because of “The Boy Who Lived.”
He couldn’t yet name the difference.
But he knew one thing:
His heart felt light, as if he’d landed on soft, warm clouds.
(End of Chapter)
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