"Bang!"
The flash of the spell exploded, and Harry was blown away, crashing directly into the cushion by the wall with a low groan.
When he looked up again, he was holding his nose, and bright red blood dripped down.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, hurrying forward to ask, "Are you okay?"
"Bumped my nose," Harry replied muffledly. He took some Dittany Essence from the shelf by the wall, skillfully applied it to his nose, and then wiped the blood off his face with a tissue.
Neville helped him pick up his magic wand, and Harry said, "Thanks, Neville."
The wound healed in no time, and Harry looked up to ask, "I think my Iron Armor Spell had some effect just now, didn't it?"
"Indeed, my spell veered a bit," Vid nodded in affirmation, then asked, "But it was too weak to have the desired effect. Remember—'Pro-tay-goh' (Iron Armor Protection), you need to be more decisive when you cast it. This spell doesn't require much technique; it just needs repeated practice."
"I understand," Harry took a deep breath, flexed his wrist, and gripped his wand tightly.
"Shall we continue?"
"Of course!"
Harry said resolutely, standing firm, and swung his wand with force: "Iron Armor Protection!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The flash of the spells clashed again, and Harry's wand slipped from his hand once more.
"Has Harry been overexerting himself these past couple of days?" Michael asked Neville, who had just walked back: "I saw him get injured several times today."
"Yeah, a bit," Neville replied vaguely, "Shall we continue practicing the Disarming Spell?"
"Listen, Neville—there's no end to learning spells; you must also learn to rest to learn better—" Michael lazily said, sitting on the ground, unwilling to budge, "—you're not being chased by a Mysterious Man, so why work so hard?"
Among the members of the SSC, aside from Vid, Harry had made the most progress. He had already learned the Disarming Spell and the Iron Armor Spell, but his invisible protective armor was still in a fragile state; the one progressing the slowest was Neville, who still hadn't successfully cast a Disarming Spell once.
But Michael knew Neville was more determined than anyone. Watching him fail again and again, only to get up each time from the ground, Michael felt pained for him.
Neville remained silent, standing quietly in his sparring position, then silently looking at Michael.
Michael: "..."
Suppressing the discomfort akin to being pricked by ants all over, he forced himself to laze around on the ground for another two minutes before finally succumbing to his conscience and getting up.
"Why should I be here, training hard with you all on stuff meant for fifth and sixth graders?" Michael muttered, "I swear I won't come tomorrow night... I need to party, to play games... even just sitting by the fireplace doing nothing?"
Neville only laughed.
At first, he would believe it, worried that Michael wouldn't want to be dragged into training by him and wouldn't come to the Umbrella House again, so he would train for a while and then take a break. But later, Neville realized Michael never meant it; he would always show up on time the next day.
"If he doesn't come, you won't have a partner. Or we could take turns practicing, but someone will always end up alone," Hermione bluntly pointed out Michael's reasoning for behaving like this when training wrapped up, "He just wants to slack off, but he doesn't want to hold back those who are willing to work hard."
Neville was slightly stunned, suddenly feeling apologetic: "But I still haven't mastered the Disarming Spell... I'm really sorry for the effort he's put in."
"Yeah, it's strange—" Hermione frowned, puzzled, "Vid explained thoroughly. He said your actions and spells were correct, so why isn't it working?"
"Hermione," Harry hastily interrupted.
An overachiever asking a struggling student, "Why can't you learn something so simple?" is akin to saying, "You're unbelievably stupid," isn't it?
Neville, however, wasn't that sensitive. He looked down at his magic wand, lost in thought.
...
That night, after Vid finished washing up, drying his damp hair as he exited the washroom, he spotted a familiar House-Elf standing in the room.
"Maki? Have a seat."
Vid put down the wet towel, poured Maki a glass of water and pushed it over, also pouring himself a glass, which he drank in one gulp.
Maki didn't sit. He leaned against the chair, holding the hot water he brought with him, his big eyes damp and shimmering, speaking in a fine voice: "Vid Gray shouldn't go to the Potions Classroom tomorrow afternoon; other students are using it."
Vid paused his action, thinking for a moment before placing the glass back down.
Earlier at lunch, he sat near Prewett and casually brought up that he planned to practice the Shrinking Potion in the Potions Classroom tomorrow while talking with Padma.
Originally, Vid thought he might drop a hint about potions casually around Slytherin students, but it seemed unnecessary now.
Yet Maki—since their last conversation, he seemed to have learned some sort of glitch-exploiting trick. As he slightly swayed, cherishingly sipping his water with happiness, he had no intention of punishing himself for it anymore.
Vid smiled and asked, "Are there any senior students?"
"No," Maki replied, "all like Vid Gray."
"How many students are going to use the Potions Classroom?"
"Uh..." the House-Elf hesitated: "Six? Seven? Six?"
"Six or seven people... Is there someone who might not show up?" Vid asked.
Maki shook his head: "They think she's part of the group, but she's not."
"Got it," Vid pulled out a small Friendship Book and handed it to Maki, saying, "I imagine you know how to use this? Please inform me when it's inconvenient to go to the Potions Classroom tomorrow, okay?"
"Yes, Maki will do it—Maki is happy to help Vid Gray," Maki happily bowed, then 'pop,' disappeared with the Friendship Book.
...
"Vid, have you noticed—" during Magic History Class, Michael looked around and lowered his voice, "The Slytherins seem a bit odd today?"
"What do you mean?" Vid asked.
"Just now at the door, Zabini even smiled at me, which was weirdly creepy," Michael rubbed his arms, "these guys aren't planning something nasty, are they?"
Slytherin students never had a good reputation, but they were very close-knit. Since Vid's previous altercation with Malfoy and others in the corridor, other Slytherins stopped greeting them. Even in class, they were distinctly separate, never mingling.
However, the tension didn't escalate to involve the two Houses. Unlike how Gryffindor and Slytherin consistently harassed each other.
"Remove that 'might,'" Vid lowered his voice, "they're planning an ambush on me!"
"An ambush on you... in the Potions Classroom?" Michael realized, "That's why you suddenly brought up potions yesterday... Are you planning to report them to a professor once they're ready? Or..."
His eyes glanced around, and excitedly, he spoke in a lower voice: "Lead Professor Snape over—"