Chapter 73: Clubs and Bullying

Harry had just finished a grueling training session and headed to the Great Hall for dinner, where he saw Ron and Hermione sitting at the long table. Hermione was engrossed in a book, while Ron was holding a piece of bread, deep in thought.

"You know what?" Ron suddenly spoke in a low voice when Harry approached. "I've discovered a truth."

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously, while piling food onto his plate.

"Oh." Ron turned his head and said with an unusually serious expression, "If you skip lunch, dinner tastes even better!" and then he took a fierce bite out of his bread.

"I also discovered a truth when I was three," Harry said, mimicking Ron's tone.

"Please go ahead, Mr. Potter," Ron gestured with his hand, speaking with a mixture of mock solemnity.

"If you're tired and hungry, every meal tastes amazing!" Harry said, taking a huge bite of his sandwich.

Hermione glanced at them, then heavily underlined in her book twice and jotted down some notes. After Harry had nearly filled his stomach, she frowned and said, "The match is coming up soon; why are the team's practices still so intense?"

"It's because the match is coming up," Harry said, and his stomach churned at the thought. "And Snape's going to be the referee."

"Listen, mate, Snape's definitely holding a grudge because you beat Slytherin last time!" Ron suggested with a conspiratorial tone, "You might as well break your leg—that way, you won't have to play."

Hermione huffed, too tired to correct their "paranoia."

But Harry pulled a face and said, "I can't drop out of the match—Gryffindor doesn't have a substitute Seeker. If I drop out, Gryffindor won't be able to compete."

"If you're really worried about Professor Snape or… anyone else trying to harm you, you should focus on improving your magic skills instead of just daydreaming about it," Hermione said and tried hard not to mention 'Professor Quirrell' by name. 

She continued seriously, "Harry, we were supposed to go to the Umbrella Room yesterday afternoon. I had already arranged everything with everyone."

"Yes—sorry," Harry said awkwardly. "But then Wood suddenly called for a practice session—"

"That's because it rained yesterday, and Hufflepuff didn't want their players' condition affected, so they canceled their reservation. Then Wood hurried to book the pitch," Hermione said indignantly. "As if anyone else was going to take it."

"Don't say that," Harry said apologetically. "Wood's just trying to win the House Cup—if we win this match against Hufflepuff, we'll be ahead of Slytherin in the House Cup standings. It'd be the first time in seven years—"

Harry hadn't always been so deferential in front of his friends, but recently, Hermione had been lending him her notes, checking his homework, guiding him through his History of Magic essays, and even teaching him practical spells that he hadn't learned yet.

Harry wasn't heartless; in fact, he was quite sensitive and craved affection. He could clearly sense that Hermione genuinely cared about him, offering her help selflessly and without expecting anything in return. 

Naturally, Harry's demeanor had grown increasingly humble, and he rarely even breathed loudly in front of Hermione.

"Hermione, what's so great about that 'Sscamper' thing? How come we've never heard of it?" Ron questioned skeptically.

Hermione frowned. "Don't use that word! SSC stands for Starry Sky Chaser, and I'd say it's absolutely the best study group at Hogwarts—at least for first-years."

Ron pulled a face that was part toothache, part awe. "A study group… classic Hermione!"

Harry fell into thought.

At Hogwarts, students formed various clubs and societies, such as the Gobstones Club or the Magical Herbs Society. You'd often see upper-year students attending these activities in groups. Harry and Ron had heard of a few but hadn't joined any.

"—They're just places to kill time. Don't expect to learn anything useful," Ron had once privately vented to Harry when a club invited Harry Potter to join. "Sometimes, new members have to deal with bullying from older ones. They make you do something really hard or humiliating and call it a test."

With Ron having five older brothers and seeming very experienced, Harry chose to trust his friend and politely declined all club invitations.

But now, it was another friend he deeply valued who was strongly recommending a club reputed to significantly boost his spellcasting skills.

Given that Professor Quirrell's classes were often lackluster, Harry was actually excited about this. He hoped that he could use magic to solve problems when it mattered most and that he could effortlessly defeat certain annoying people—like Malfoy.

However, Harry also had to consider Ron's feelings. He didn't want Ron to feel left out, which left Harry feeling conflicted.

After eating their fill, the dinner on the long table disappeared. The group packed up and prepared to head to the umbrella room. As they walked, Hermione reminded Harry, "Tidy up your hair—make a good impression on everyone—"

Suddenly, loud, arrogant laughter echoed in the hallway, accompanied by the jeering voices of several students.

The sound of laughter instantly triggered a deep memory in Harry, and he said with disgust, "It's Malfoy—he's definitely bullying someone!"

Before he finished speaking, he dashed forward, with Ron closely following behind.

"Wait—Harry—calm down!"

Hermione stomped her foot and had no choice but to run after them.

In the corridor, Neville was surrounded by a group of Slytherins. He was gripping his wand and stammered, "M-Malfoy, what are you trying to do?"

Draco Malfoy tapped his wand against his palm, smiling. "Longbottom, I've just learned a new spell, and I want to practice it on someone."

Everyone around him let out low, malicious laughter.

Neville, trembling, pointed his wand at Malfoy. "D-Don't come any closer—I'll tell the professor—"

"Locomotor Mortis!" (Leg-Locker Curse)

As Neville backed away, Malfoy suddenly shouted, and the spell hit Neville. His legs immediately snapped together, sticking tightly as if fused into a single column.

Neville fell to the ground, his face flushed as he struggled to get up, flopping around like a fish out of water.

The Slytherins burst into raucous laughter, and one boy even kicked Neville's wand away.

Draco Malfoy, beaming with pride, took a bow to the crowd, like a magician who had just performed a successful trick. 

He then turned to Neville and mocked, "Tell the professor? Merlin—you're such a coward, Longbottom. Are you really a Gryffindor, or did the Sorting Hat accidentally put you in the wrong place?"

"Where should he go then, Draco?" a shrill-voiced girl asked loudly on purpose.

"Good question—Pansy—very good question—let me think—" Draco pretended to ponder for a moment, looking around before suggesting, "How about the trash can?"

Neville couldn't hold back a sob.

The Slytherins were nearly rolling on the floor with laughter.

"Let him go, Malfoy!"

Harry Potter came charging out of the corridor like a cannonball.

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