Hermione, who had just fallen straight into Draco's arms, let out a long sigh of relief, grateful to have narrowly avoided disaster. However, before she could fully collect herself, a rather impolite voice sounded from above her head:
"Are you alright or not? If you're fine, hurry up and get off!"
Hearing the voice, Hermione quickly looked up to find Draco staring at her with an impatient expression.
Realizing that she had indeed thrown herself into Draco's arms and was still held by both of his hands, Hermione's face flushed red. She scrambled to her feet, hastily saying:
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..."
Before she could finish, Draco had already let go of her and rushed toward Harry.
Hermione: …
Watching the scene unfold, Wentworth internally roared: I never thought Draco would not only be such a tsundere but also such a blockhead!
What Wentworth didn't know was that, running toward Harry with his back to them, Draco's pale face—pale from the recent excessive expenditure of magical energy—had started to flush slightly.
Recalling the moment just now, Draco felt as if a stone in his heart had shifted ever so slightly.
At that moment, a loud voice called out his name:
"Draco, hurry up and let us down! What are you thinking?!"
Following the voice, Draco turned to see Ron, still dangling upside down from the ceiling, his face filled with terror as he stared at the floor below.
Draco curled his lip with disdain and raised his wand:
"Liberacorpus!"
With the counter-curse spoken, Harry fell from midair—only for Draco to catch him. Both of them tumbled to the ground, but the fact that Draco had managed to catch Harry at all was remarkable.
Cedric, watching from the side, remarked in amazement:
"I didn't expect someone as small as Draco to be able to catch Harry in one go!"
Wentworth chuckled and asked:
"Cedric, do you know there's a kind of magic in the wizarding world—one so powerful that even Voldemort was defeated by it? Do you know what it is?"
Cedric shook his head, confused.
Wentworth leaned in and whispered:
"It's love."
Harry was the first to stand up, extending his hand to Draco and pulling him to his feet.
"Thank you, Draco. You saved me, saved Ron, and saved Hermione!"
As he spoke, Harry gave Draco a deep hug.
Draco, slightly embarrassed, mumbled:
"N-no, it was thanks to Wentworth and Cedric. They saved everyone."
Hearing Draco's words, Harry looked toward Wentworth, smiling gratefully.
Wentworth, however, merely waved his hand dismissively, signaling there was no need for thanks.
It wasn't that Harry didn't want to give Wentworth a hug too—but ever since entering Hogwarts, Harry had felt a growing distance between himself and Wentworth. It wasn't just because Wentworth was in Hufflepuff while Harry was in Gryffindor. More than that, it was the vast difference in their abilities.
With just one day of casual guidance from Wentworth, Draco could already duel Harry to a standstill. Meanwhile, Harry—despite his fame—knew he lacked skill. Snape had made that painfully clear in their first Potions lesson.
"Oi, what about me?! I'm still stuck up here! Someone help me down! Draco, I'm still here! Hurry up!"
Ron's loud complaints echoed from above.
Draco rolled his eyes and muttered irritably:
"Sorry, Ron, I've really overdrawn my magical energy. You'll have to hang tight for a bit until I recover."
Draco's words were not meant to torment Ron—he genuinely was exhausted. Catching Harry had left his head spinning and his limbs weak.
Naturally, Ron refused to accept this, continuing to shout until Wentworth shook his head and turned to Cedric:
"Go on, let him down."
Cedric nodded, pointing his wand at Ron:
"Liberacorpus!"
Harry watched the entire scene in silence. He had known since day one that Cedric and Wentworth were two of Hogwarts' finest young wizards—but seeing how Cedric obeyed Wentworth without question made Harry wonder just how exceptional Wentworth truly was.
Suddenly, Harry felt an immense pressure. If he wanted to remain friends with Wentworth, he would need to push himself harder.
No one should mistake Harry for a clueless child. Even the most ordinary child learns to read people after years of living under someone else's roof.
As Ron clumsily got to his feet, groaning in pain, hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Moments later, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Professor Quirrell burst into the room. At the sight of the troll lying motionless on the floor, Professor McGonagall gasped, clutching her chest and stepping back.
Her sharp gaze swept across the students before she asked, barely containing her anger:
"Would anyone care to explain what you're all doing here? Why weren't you in your dormitories?"
The moment the professors entered, Wentworth's eyes locked with Snape's. A silent understanding seemed to pass between them.
Just then, Hermione stepped forward:
"It's all my fault, Professor McGonagall. I read about trolls in a book and thought I could handle one… but I was wrong. If they hadn't found me and saved me..."
Professor McGonagall glanced around the room, her expression softening ever so slightly.
"It would appear, Miss Granger, that you have quite the circle of friends. Not only did members of Gryffindor come to your rescue, but two older Hufflepuffs and even a Slytherin student as well."
At this, Snape's voice cut through the air:
"We Slytherins may be proud, Professor, but we do not stand idly by while our fellow students are in danger. That, too, is part of our pride."
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