Chapter 1078
The Knocking Sound
Chapter 1078 The Knocking Sound
Neville cautiously began, "Ah...maybe it's because...we haven't practiced enough?"
Ryan said softly, "Wade said that there is a huge difference between being able to cast a spell and actually knowing how to use a spell. We practiced for a long time to learn this spell."
“Yes, yes,” Neville quickly replied. “We’ve been in the SSC for so long, learning from Vader and the others, and we’ve only mastered a handful of spells so far… You’ve really done a great job to be able to use the Ironclad Charm.”
"Okay, let's do it again!"
Ron raised an eyebrow, took a deep breath, raised his wand, and said seriously, "Neville, don't hold back, or you'll be underestimating me!"
"Ah... okay..."
Neville hesitated, swallowing hard, and then looked pleadingly at their temporary coach, Harry.
Harry suppressed a laugh, maintaining his "coach" composure, and went over to correct Ron's gesture, saying:
"Remember, the stress is on the second syllable! Also, when you are casting a spell, don't think about 'blocking', think about 'pushing away', just like pushing away something that the other person is throwing at you."
He watched as his friend chanted the incantation twice in a low voice, and feeling that everything was alright, he stepped aside to let the two continue practicing freely.
Harry returned to his table, intending to get some water, when he suddenly felt a distinct gaze beside him.
He turned his head and saw Wade staring at him, not knowing how long he had been looking at him.
Perhaps it was because of his gray eyes that his gaze seemed exceptionally deep, giving one the feeling that he was looking at them, but not at their present self, but rather at the future.
Harry paused for a moment, then asked, "What's wrong?"
He walked over, casually grabbed a pie from Wade's table, took a bite, and with his back to the others, whispered:
"You make me feel... like Voldemort is about to cause me trouble again."
“No, not at all.” Wade also lowered his voice. “I haven’t heard from Voldemort lately. Perhaps he’s hiding in the shadows, plotting something?”
“Then what were you looking at me about just now…” Harry touched his face, “Was there something dirty on my face? Was it the salad dressing from lunch?”
“It’s nothing,” Wade chuckled and said, “I just think…it’s pretty good.”
"Pretty good? What's pretty good?" Harry asked, bewildered.
At that moment, Wade recalled a passage from the original story that Dumbledore had spoken—
The Department of Mysteries has a most mysterious room that is always locked, and no one has ever dared to open it.
Or perhaps they simply couldn't open it? Wade guessed.
In the story, Dumbledore will tell Harry that the power in that room is more magical and terrifying than death, human wisdom, or the power of nature.
What Voldemort sought to conquer his entire life was in that room, but he could never enter.
But Harry possessed all the energy in that room.
That power is—love.
In the Graves's words, it is the only power that cannot be extracted or touched by magic.
It wasn't the mad infatuation brought about by love potions, nor the false illusions created by altered memories. True, pure love is an imprint etched into the soul.
Just as Lily Potter's selfless and sacrificial love led to Voldemort's first defeat.
Wade had long forgotten the contents of the original story, but after having the dream that Mrs. Grey had given him, for some reason, he suddenly remembered them with incredible clarity.
“Wade?” Harry’s voice pulled Wade from his reverie. “Are you alright? You’ve been spacing out for ages.”
Wade shook his head and smiled, "I was just thinking that you teach very well...you've made great progress."
Harry paused, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. He lowered his head, took a bite of his pie, and mumbled somewhat awkwardly, "..."
"Why are you suddenly bringing this up? And... it's all because you've been helping me. You and Hermione, you've taught me so much..." He recalled his initial nervousness when he first encountered magic, and his worry about not being able to turn a match into a needle in his first Transfiguration class, and suddenly felt a sense of how fast time flies.
Suddenly, Harry stopped biting into the pie.
He listened intently and said uncertainly, "Wade, did you hear anything?"
Wade's gaze shifted towards the doorway.
"Thump, thump, thump!"
Someone knocked on the door.
People in SSC all know the password; they don't need to knock.
Wade frowned, his mind unconsciously flashing back to Percy's conversation with the Hufflepuff student in the office.
Just as he was about to get up, he saw Theo put down his pen, walk over, and open the door without any suspicion.
Upon seeing the person outside the door, he paused for a moment, then said gently, "Good afternoon... Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Excuse me," Wade heard a girl's soft voice say, "I heard that SSC's activity room is here, is that right?"
Theo glanced back at his companions, then turned back to them and said, "That's definitely true..."
"boom!"
Ron crashed heavily to the ground, this time harder, because he was thrown quite far, flying over the mat next to him and landing on the hard floor.
The sound of something hitting the ground interrupted Theo's words. He turned back again and looked at the ground with concern.
Ron gasped as he got up from the ground, limping as he picked up his wand. He was about to complain about Neville's flustered appearance when he heard a noise outside.
"We want to join."
The girl said, "I heard there are no Slytherins here, and I know some people might think I shouldn't have come, but I still wanted to try..."
"Slytherin? You really shouldn't have come!"
Ron said sharply, walking towards the door, and sneered, "Besides resorting to underhanded tricks and backstabbing, what else are you people good for? You're nothing but..."
Suddenly, the rest of his words got stuck in his throat.
A girl stood outside the door, much shorter than Ron, with long, flowing golden curls that draped smoothly over her shoulders, and a small, delicate face.
Her skin was much paler than most people's, making her look exceptionally fragile, like a delicate porcelain doll.
Those blue-gray eyes were fixed on Ron, a look of surprise and hurt in them. She blinked and said, trying to keep her voice calm:
"Oh, I see... You mean Slytherins are all trainees for dark wizardry, is that right?"
Ron's face flushed red, and he stammered, "I...I'm not...that...I thought..."
Seeing that he hadn't given a complete reason, the girl said softly:
"I had thought I might be rejected before I came. But I thought the reason for rejection would be more dignified!"
"For example... my skills aren't good enough, I did something wrong in the past, I don't possess certain qualifications you require, or it's simply because your club only accepts friends..."
"So...it's just because I'm a Slytherin? Do you also judge people by their house?"
Hearing her gentle yet sharp words, Ron was speechless, unsure of what to say.
Another girl's voice slowly drifted in from outside the door:
"If you can judge a person's character just by looking at their academy, then you could probably judge a person's talent by the color of their coat, or judge the weather by which foot you step out the door in the morning."
(End of this chapter)