Chapter 93: Heart-to-Heart, Heart-to-Heart
After a practice session, Harry hesitated, then quietly approached Michael with a nervous whisper—If Ron also wants to join the SSC, what should we do? Would Wade agree?
These past weeks, every time Harry stepped into the Umbrella Room for learning and training, his heart swelled with joy—even when injured, he felt a deep sense of accomplishment. But as soon as he returned to the dormitory, that happiness deflated like a punctured balloon, vanishing instantly.
Ron hadn’t spoken to him in over half a month. Sometimes, when they passed each other, Ron would pretend not to see him. During class, he’d dash to sit with Seamus or Dean—two other boys in their dorm—leaving the once inseparable pair far apart.
The SSC was wonderful, yes. But Harry missed the old days—sneaking off during lessons, playing Wizard’s Chess, complaining together about endless assignments and impossible homework. Ron had been the first friend Harry made in the magical world. He cherished their bond deeply.
He thought—if Ron could join the SSC too, maybe they could go back to how things were.
Michael pressed him further, and once he understood the situation, he silently marked Ron with a red X in his mind—again, reaffirming his own foresight.
After a pause, Michael said, “Harry, I understand you want to reconcile with your friend. But have you ever thought—friendship requires effort from both sides? You’ve learned to tolerate Ron’s temper. But has he ever truly understood your struggles?”
Harry blinked, then admitted softly, “I… I did promise to ask Wade for him. But I broke that promise.”
“That’s exactly the problem, Harry,” Michael replied calmly. “I believe anyone who wants to join an established group should show initiative—demonstrate their ability, their willingness, their sincerity, effort, or talent. They shouldn’t rely on a friend to plead their case. That puts both of us in a difficult position.”
He locked eyes with Harry. “First, you—you’ve clearly been carrying this weight for a long time. Every day, you’ve worried about how to bring it up, whether you’d be rejected. You’ve been anxious, tense, day after day. And then there’s us—if someone here dislikes Ron Weasley, how do we handle it? Do we reject him and risk seeming petty? Or do we pretend to accept him, only to feel resentment? Either way, it strains our friendship.”
He almost said it then—what he’d wanted to say when Hermione first wanted to bring Harry in. But Wade’s words had silenced him: Harry Potter’s parents died in the war. Their orphaned child deserves special consideration. Hermione had looked at Harry with the tenderness of a mother. Michael could understand that.
But Gryffindors—they poured their hearts into the people they cared about, to the point of wanting to give everything. Michael couldn’t allow them to keep pulling others in. After Ron, would it be Seamus? Dean? Then the whole of Gryffindor?
He didn’t say it outright, but his disapproval was clear.
Finally, he said, “Weasley turned a personal issue into ours. And what has he been doing all this time? Playing a cold war with you. Harry—if a friend would break over something this small, does he even value the friendship? Or has he simply assumed—no matter what he does—you’ll always reach out first, ready to forgive?”
Harry fell into a long silence.
…
Back in the Ravenclaw Common Room, Michael brought up the matter again with Wade, then asked, “Do you know what Harry Potter’s life was like before coming to school?”
“Apparently, he grew up with Muggle relatives,” Wade replied. Everyone knew that already.
Michael sighed. “Those relatives must have done a terrible job raising him. I suspect Harry never had real friends before.”
“How do you know?” Padma leaned in, surprised. “He seems perfectly fine! He can’t have been friendless, can he?”
Even though wizards often lived apart, Padma and her friends knew that Muggle children usually played in groups. During holidays, they sometimes played with kids from nearby villages.
“But Harry’s behavior around friends… it’s a little too submissive,” Michael murmured. “Even though his parents are dead, he’s The Savior. Why would he act like this? I expected him to be proud—maybe even arrogant, like Malfoy.”
“Muggles probably don’t understand the significance of a boy who survived a killing curse,” Wade said, flipping through a book. “To them, Harry might just be a burden left behind.”
Padma listened in silence, then whispered, “That explains it…”
“What?” Michael asked.
“Didn’t you notice?” Padma said softly. “Harry’s clothes always look a little too big under his robes. I thought it was some Muggle fashion trend.”
The two exchanged hushed theories. Wade turned another page without speaking.
In his memory, Harry had suffered abuse from his aunt’s family as a child. But after growing up, their relationship seemed… reconciled? Whether from the original story or fan interpretations, that impression lingered.
But lately, Wade had noticed something odd—Harry’s attitude toward Professor Quirrell had changed dramatically. Every time they passed each other in the hall, Harry gave him a warm, encouraging smile. In Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he’d begun volunteering answers with surprising enthusiasm. Hermione could no longer block him openly—she could only watch, wide-eyed and tense.
His behavior unsettled more than a few people. Snape was now constantly drifting near Harry, making the boy think he was being followed, hunted for a reason to assign detention. As a result, Harry had missed two SSC training sessions.
That day, during SSC training, Neville—whose wand had once again been flung from his hand—was visibly shaken. He zoned out for a long time, leaving everyone deeply concerned.
Wade signaled the others to keep training, then walked over, placed a hand on Neville’s shoulder, and asked, “Want to talk?”
Neville nodded mutely.
They moved to a corner and sat on a sofa. Wade didn’t rush. He poured a glass of water and sipped slowly.
After a long silence, Neville finally whispered, “Wade… my Disarming Charm gesture—it’s correct, right? The spell itself is right?”
“Yes,” Wade said firmly. “You’re nearly as precise as Hermione.”
A flicker of doubt crossed his face. “But I still keep failing…”
He lowered his head, fingers digging into the cracks of the table, as if struggling to find the words.
“—Am I just… too stupid?”
“No,” Wade said gently. “You’re not stupid. You did well in Herbology, didn’t you? Not learning the Disarming Charm might not be about skill. It could be about confidence. If you doubt your magic, it won’t respond.”
“So—” Neville hesitated, then finally asked, “That’s why… I don’t have a real connection with my wand, right?”
(End of Chapter)
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