"Me? I don't mind a passionate love affair, but Eastern girls' views on love are a little different from yours—"
Qiu Zhang sidled up to Harry and whispered,
"It usually takes me months, or even longer, to decide on my Mr. Right. I don't like rushing into relationships without confirmation."
"I think that's great."
Harry felt his face flush.
He spent the rest of the day in a daze.
Valentine's Day hadn't even arrived yet, but he felt like he was already enjoying it.
After class, when he went to the Room of Requirement to practice spells, his spell power noticeably increased, leaving Ron dumbfounded.
"What's your secret, buddy?"
"It's the power of love!"
Harry's heart surged, unleashing another wave of petrification.
Damon, with one hand on his chin, flipping through the book "Defense and Deterrent Spells," had just turned his head and chuckled.
"Is this youth? It's wonderful."
Hermione, upon hearing this, gave him a sullen look.
"What's wrong?"
"No, nothing."
While enjoying her youth, she was already fretting over it!
Furthermore, Damon had been rather lazy lately—though he still read, Hermione rarely saw him practicing spells, unlike the days when he'd spend all day practicing.
Although Hermione felt she had no right to worry about Damon, she was still a little annoyed—had the constant flattery from others made him lose the will to keep working hard?
"You clearly have something to worry about, and you're afraid to tell me?"
In the past, Damon might not have cared, but now, with plenty of free time, he naturally felt inclined to tease Hermione—and sure enough, hearing her say that, Hermione's face puffed up, and she glared at him angrily.
"What am I afraid to tell you? Fine, I'll tell you. You told me to."
Her tone was a bit weak, like a eunuch risking his life to advise the emperor, only to be beheaded.
"I haven't seen you practicing spells in ages. Do you think you don't need to practice anymore?"
"Indeed."
Hermione, surprised by his frank admission, widened her eyes.
Damon chuckled, "But it's not what you think."
Damon stood up. Ron and Harry were also looking at him at this time - it seemed that although the two of them didn't say it on the surface, they were still very concerned about this matter in their hearts.
"Simple practice is meaningless to me. What I need now is the occasional flash of inspiration."
As he said this, he didn't even take out his wand. He just made a "pistol" shape with one hand and "fired" at the training puppet in front of him.
"Bang~ Petrify all."
Bang!
The next moment, the eight training puppets in front of them actually showed signs of being petrified at the same time!
"Look, this is what I just thought of. It only takes one cast, but it can petrify everything within the range - but it seems that it needs to be improved. There is no way to petrify the ground as well."
"Oh, that's impressive,"
Ron thought, his mind almost blank.
He and Harry exchanged a glance, seeing the silent scream in each other's eyes, and then he returned to his practice. In a flash of white light, all the petrified training puppets were restored.
Admittedly, without the Room of Requirement, finding so many training puppets would have been quite a hassle.
But the thought that the power of their wand-cast spells couldn't even compare to the effect of Damon's wandless spells made them feel a little discouraged. Fortunately, their current magical level wasn't high enough. If Professor Flitwick were here, the shock would have been dozens of times greater.
When had wandless spells ever been so powerful?
"Looks like I was overthinking it."
Hermione's face flushed slightly, and with her round, tender face, she looked like a bright red diamond apple, making Damon suddenly want to take a bite.
"No, it's nice to see you care about your friends—you weren't like that before."
Damon sat down again.
"How long ago was that? You should reconsider your opinion of me."
At night, several people cast Disillusionment Charms and left the Room of Requirement, arriving near the corner of the common room. They reappeared only when no one was around.
But after turning the corner, they saw seven or eight other witches lingering. It was unexpectedly close to their nighttime stroll—well, if they were Gryffindors, they'd still have time.
Hearing footsteps, they immediately turned their heads in alarm. Upon seeing Damon, a sound like a kettle boiling echoed from the crowd.
A girl shyly stepped forward and thrust a thin booklet into Damon's hand. "This is a gift I prepared for you in advance. Will you accept it?"
Damon raised a brow, took it, and after checking it was clear of any magical traces, tucked it under his arm.
He didn't say thank you—he'd learned something over the past few months: if you're polite to everyone, that politeness will eventually attract everyone, good or bad.
A proper sense of distance helped him maintain a peaceful life.
Damon accepted the gift and walked right past the girl.
Harry saw her lower her head, looking a little disappointed, but unable to suppress a smile.
Seeing Damon accept the gift, the others began to get excited. Someone offered a box of enchanted chocolates—they repeatedly emphasized the harmless magic before handing it over.
Then came the scented potions, a hand-woven cloak embroidered with D and a girl's name, and a homemade amulet—all of which Damon refused because they contained a love potion.
By the time Damon returned to the Gryffindor common room, the girls outside had already excitedly come to a new conclusion: public gifts or love letters could only be delivered through Hermione, but in this private, sparsely attended setting, White didn't seem to mind accepting their gifts.
"This is something only we know about, understand, sisters?"
"Of course!"
the girls solemnly agreed, as if they had made an "unbreakable vow."
But soon, "I'm only telling you this. You absolutely must not tell anyone!"
"This must be kept secret. I discovered it secretly. If anyone else knows, it's over!
"
By the next day, word had spread throughout the Hogwarts girls' circle that Damon would accept gifts in a small crowd.
In the morning in the Great Hall, just sitting next to Damon, Harry felt the surrounding gazes like flames, burning his back and itching.
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(End of this chapter)