Chapter 88: Practice and News
Chapter 88: Practice and News
"Bang!"
The spell's light exploded, and Harry was knocked back, crashing into the soft pads by the wall. He let out a low groan, clutching his nose as fresh blood dripped down.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, hurrying over to him. "Are you alright?"
"Bumped my nose," Harry muttered in response. He took out some Essence of Dittany from the shelf by the wall and skillfully applied it to his nose, wiping away the blood with a tissue.
Neville retrieved his wand for him, and Harry said, "Thanks, Neville."
The wound healed quickly, and Harry looked up and asked, "I think my Protego spell had some effect that time, didn't it?"
"Indeed, my spell was slightly off target," Vic acknowledged with a nod. He then asked, "But it was too weak and didn't have the desired effect. Pay attention—'Pro-tay-goh' (Protego), you need to cast it with more decisiveness. There's not much technique to this spell; it just requires repeated practice."
"I understand," Harry said, taking a deep breath and flexing his wrists before gripping his wand tightly. "Shall we continue?"
"Of course!"
Harry stood firm and swung his wand decisively. "Protego!"
"Disarm!"
Once again, the light of the spells collided, and Harry's wand flew out of his hand.
"Has Harry been pushing himself too hard these past few days?" Michael asked Neville, who had just returned. "I've seen him get hurt several times today."
"Well, maybe a little," Neville replied vaguely. "Shall we continue practicing the Disarming Spell?"
"Listen, Neville," Michael said as he sat on the ground, reluctant to move. "There's always more to learn when it comes to spells, and sometimes you need to rest to learn better—and I'm not being chased by the Mystery Man. Why are you working so hard?"
Among the SSC members, Harry had made the most progress after Vic. He had already learned the Disarming Spell and Protego, although his invisible armor was still at the stage where it shattered at the slightest touch. The slowest progress was Neville, who had not yet successfully cast the Disarming Spell even once.
But Michael knew that Neville was actually the hardest worker among them. Seeing him fail time and time again, only to get back up, made Michael feel sympathetic pain for him.
Neville didn't say anything; he just stood silently in the sparring position, looking at Michael.
Michael: "..."
He suppressed the uncomfortable feeling of being pricked all over his body by ants and forced himself to laze around for another two minutes. Eventually, he couldn't ignore his conscience any longer and got up from the ground.
"Why am I here practicing advanced stuff with you guys?" Michael grumbled. "I'm definitely not coming tomorrow night... I need to party and play games... or just sit in front of the fireplace and do nothing."
Neville just laughed.
At first, he would take Michael's words to heart, worrying that Michael didn't want to be dragged into training with him anymore and would stop coming to the umbrella house. So they would train for a while and then rest. But later, Neville realized that Michael was just saying those things, and he would still show up on time the next day.
"If he doesn't come, you'll be without a partner. Or we can take turns practicing, but someone will always be left out," Hermione pointed out bluntly at the end of the training. "He just wants to be lazy himself, but he doesn't want to hold back those who are willing to work hard."
Neville paused, suddenly feeling apologetic. "But I still haven't mastered the Disarming Spell... I'm really sorry for not living up to his efforts."
"Yeah, it's strange," Hermione frowned, puzzled. "Vic teaches very thoroughly, and he says your movements and spells are fine. I wonder why you can't succeed?"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted hastily.
When a top student asks a struggling student, "Why can't you learn something so simple?" isn't it the same as saying, "You're unbelievably stupid?"
Neville wasn't that sensitive; he lowered his head and stared at his wand, lost in thought.
...
In the evening, after Vic had finished washing up and was wiping his wet hair, he walked out of the bathroom and saw a familiar house-elf standing in the room.
"Dobby?" Vic asked, offering the elf a seat.
Putting down his wet towel, Vic casually poured a glass of water for Dobby and one for himself, downing it in one go.
Dobby didn't sit. He leaned against the chair, holding the hot water he had brought. His large eyes were moist, and he said in a soft voice, "Vicker shouldn't go to the Potions classroom tomorrow afternoon. There will be other students using it."
Vic paused, thinking for a moment before putting the glass back down.
At lunchtime today, he had sat near Pucey and casually brought up the fact that he would be going to the Potions classroom tomorrow to practice the Shrinking Solution.
Initially, Vic had considered whether he should casually mention it to the Slytherin students nearby—but it seemed that was no longer necessary.
Instead, Dobby—after their previous conversation—seemed to have learned a bug-fixing technique. He was now gently swaying his body, carefully sipping his water, looking very happy, and no longer intending to punish himself.
Vic smiled and asked, "Are there any upperclassmen?"
"No." Dobby replied, "They're all like Vicker."
"How many students will be using the Potions classroom?"
"Er..." The house-elf hesitated, "Six? Seven? Six?"
"Six or seven people... One of them might not go?" Vic asked.
Dobby shook his head. "They think she's with them, but she's not."
"I understand." Vic took out a small piece of the Friend's Register and handed it to Dobby, saying, "I think you know how to use this? Please let me know tomorrow if it's not convenient to go to the Potions classroom, okay?"
"Okay, Dobby will do it—Dobby is very willing to help Vicker." Dobby happily bowed and disappeared with the piece of parchment, making a soft "pop" sound.
...
"Vic, have you noticed—" In their History of Magic class, Michael looked around cautiously and lowered his voice. "Slytherin seems a bit strange today?"
"How so?" Vic asked.
"Just now at the door, Zabini actually smiled at me. It was quite frightening." Michael rubbed his arms. "I hope they're not up to something bad."
The Slytherin students didn't have a very good reputation, but they stuck together. Ever since Vic's conflict with Malfoy and the others in the corridor, the other Slytherin students no longer greeted them. Even in the classroom, the two sides remained distinct and didn't mix.
It was just that the conflict between the two sides hadn't escalated to the level of the entire house. Nor had it become a persistent source of trouble like the one between Gryffindor and Slytherin.
"Remove the 'I hope,'" Vic said quietly. "They're planning an ambush for me!"
"An ambush... in the Potions classroom?" Michael realized, "No wonder you suddenly brought up Potions yesterday... Do you plan to wait until they're ready before reporting to the professor? Or..."
His eyes darted around, and he continued in an even quieter voice, full of excitement, "Luring Professor Snape over there—"
(End of Chapter)
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