80

Chapter 80: Exchanging Information

As night descended, Harry and Hermione returned together to the Gryffindor common room. Neville, having accidentally hit his head during spell practice, was on his way to the school infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey.

Only a few students remained on the sofas at this hour. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting shifting shadows on the walls like a mysterious, ancient painting.

"Good night, Harry," Hermione said softly. "Get some rest."

"Okay, good night," Harry replied, watching Hermione ascend to the girls' dormitory. He ascended happily himself via the spiral staircase to the boys' dormitory, even sneaking in a couple of jumps when no one was looking.

Tonight's study session had been fruitful. Harry had successfully disarmed his opponent for the first time, outpacing Hermione in learning a spell. Most others struggled to cast spells smoothly; Hermione managed to push her opponent back two steps, while Michael made his opponent flinch—albeit perhaps more from the intimidating beam of light emitted from his wand.

Harry remembered the astonished and admiring looks from their peers—not because he was "Harry Potter" or the "Boy Who Lived," but due to his emerging talent for learning spells.

Each member of the SSC had their own strengths. Harry had initially believed his only forte was Quidditch, but now he realized he excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts spells. Wade had praised him—he was a practical genius.

But all this joy evaporated the moment he pushed open the dormitory door.

Ron sat leaning against his bed's headboard, flipping through a magazine without looking up as the door creaked. Seamus and Dean seemed to be asleep, their steady breaths barely audible behind the curtains.

The atmosphere in the dormitory was strained.

Harry suddenly recalled his promise to Ron—if Wade and the others welcomed Ron into the SSC, he would jot a note in the friendship book, and Ron would join immediately.

Noticing Ron still clad in his day clothes, not yet changed into pajamas, Harry greeted him awkwardly, almost wanting to flee.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said, his voice dry.

Ron glanced up, asking slowly, "Is it done? How did your club thing go?"

"—It went okay," Harry replied awkwardly. "I learned the Disarming Charm."

He didn't know why he added that last sentence. It slipped out before he could stop himself, and Harry immediately regretted it.

"And did you ask about me?" Ron inquired. "You must have asked, right? Even if they said no, it's fine. Just tell me the truth—I can handle it."

Harry didn't know what to say. "I... I didn't—"

"—No?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

"The SSC has a rule that new members must be approved by everyone... I'm just a newcomer... so..." Harry stuttered, feeling his explanation fell short.

"Oh," Ron replied coolly. "I get it."

He pulled the curtains shut, lay down, and pulled the blanket over himself.

Alone by the door, Harry felt a mix of emotions.

...

A white light orb drifted slowly towards a candlestick and settled upon it, casting a soft glow over the entire dormitory.

Wade sat by the window, scrolling through messages in the friendship account.

The friendship account couldn't retain messages for long. If not checked promptly, they'd vanish from the page soon after; if left unread, they'd disappear within half an hour at most.

Thus, his family and friends typically communicated before bedtime.

[Zoe: Zoe's really grateful for the sweets Wade Grey shared! She shared them with friends, and McGee and Tess will try to replicate them. You can also enjoy them at the breakfast table, Wade Grey!]

[Steven: I've gathered some information about bird snakes and sent it your way. I hope it's useful. By the way, Mr. Scamander responded and said he's willing to assist! I'm ecstatic, Wade! I never imagined this day would come. It's all thanks to you, my friend!]

[Marchioni: Regarding the revision of the Friendship Book, I'd like to meet in person—can we meet in Hogsmeade on Saturday? I know only third-years get permission to go out, but maybe Professor Murray could take you? I also know a secret passage out of the school...]

[Ferdinand: Wade, I've received a response from the person you mentioned.]

Wade's eyes lit up, and he quickly scribbled on parchment—

[Wade: Remus Lupin?]

[Ferdinand: Yes. As per your request, he claims in his letter to be proficient in most Defense Against the Dark Arts spells, including the Patronus Charm, excels in Transfiguration, is familiar with Animagus transformations, and agrees to a weekly salary of 10 Galleons. The letter was signed by Remus Lupin. I've scheduled a meeting at the Leaky Cauldron for tomorrow.]

Wade exhaled deeply, unable to contain his smile.

He could ask Professor Flitwick about Defense Against the Dark Arts topics, but he couldn't always rely on him. Professor Flitwick had classes to teach, homework to grade, Ravenclaw House to manage, and occasional castle patrols. During free time, he frequented the pub with friends to unwind. Wade couldn't monopolize his time, nor that of Professor Murray.

Over the Christmas break, Professor Flitwick had gifted Wade a copy of "Spells Compendium," only for Wade to later discover it was an abridged version. It omitted most dark magic, curses, and poisonous spells—also excluding advanced magic like Apparition, Disillusionment, Animagus, and Portkey, which Flitwick deemed inappropriate for Wade's current level.

Professor Flitwick's stance was clear—while recognizing Wade's spellcraft aptitude, he insisted on a gradual approach to advanced magic, beginning with safe and benign spells in the early years.

Wade didn't wish to debate the professor's judgment. Flitwick was inherently kind and principled. Yet among Wade's learning aspirations lay topics the professor couldn't fulfill. Self-practice, despite the advantage of his "golden finger," posed considerable risks.

More than half of each textbook chapter emphasized a single theme—botched spells carried grave consequences, potentially fatal or transforming humans into non-human creatures, or inflicting irreparable magical damage.

He needed a mentor.

Someone highly skilled, trustworthy, and unorthodox.

Could there be a better choice than Remus Lupin?