Harry finished his intense training and, as he headed to the Great Hall for a meal, saw Ron and Hermione by the long table. Hermione was flipping through a book, while Ron was thoughtfully holding a piece of bread.
"You know what?" Ron suddenly spoke in a low tone as Harry approached. "I've discovered a truth."
"—What is it?" Harry asked curiously while piling food onto his plate.
"Oh." Ron turned his head, looking particularly serious. "If you skip lunch, dinner tastes even better!" He fiercely bit into the bread.
"I discovered a truth when I was three." Harry mimicked him.
"Go ahead, Mr. Potter." Ron extended a hand, speaking vaguely but solemnly.
"If you're both tired and hungry, any meal will taste extremely delicious!" Harry said, devouring half a sandwich in one bite.
Hermione glanced at them, sharply marking notes in her book. After Harry was nearly full, she frowned and said, "The competition is almost here, so why is the team training so intensively?"
"—Yeah, exactly because the competition is close." At the mention of this topic, Harry felt his stomach knotting. "And it's Professor Snape as the referee."
"Listen, buddy, Snape definitely holds a grudge against you for beating Slytherin last time!" Ron suggested, "Why don't you just break a leg, then you won't have to go on the field."
Hermione snorted, already too lazy to correct their "paranoid" thoughts.
But Harry, pulling a long face, said, "I can't quit the match—Gryffindor doesn't have a substitute Seeker. If I quit, Gryffindor can't compete."
"If you really worry Professor Snape or—someone else wants to harm you, you should focus on improving your magic skills, not daydreaming all the time." Hermione held her tongue, almost saying 'Professor Quirrell.' She said sternly, "Harry, we were supposed to go to Umbrella House yesterday afternoon, I had told everyone."
"Yes—sorry." Harry said awkwardly. "But Wood suddenly called for a training meeting—"
"That's because it rained yesterday, Hufflepuff didn't want the players to be affected, so they canceled the booking, and then Wood hurried to book the field—" Hermione said displeased, "As if someone would snatch it."
"Don't say that," Harry explained humbly, "Wood is also aiming for the house cup—if we win against Hufflepuff in this match, we can be ahead of Slytherin for the first time in seven years—."
Ordinarily, Harry wouldn't be so meek before his friends, but recently Hermione was willing to lend him her notes for reference, help check his homework, guide him through his Magic History essay, and even teach him practical spells he hadn't yet learned...
Harry was not cold-hearted; in fact, he was quite sensitive and starved for affection. He could clearly feel that Hermione genuinely cared for him, providing selfless help without asking for anything in return, and naturally, Harry's attitude lowered and lowered, seldom even breathed loudly before Hermione.
"Hermione, that 'Sscamper' is really that good? We've never heard of it," Ron questioned.
Hermione frowned, "Don't use that term! SSC means Starry Sky Chaser; I dare say, it's absolutely Hogwarts—at least for the first year—the best study group."
Ron made a toothache-like face filled with awe, "A study group... that's just like you, Hermione!"
Harry fell into contemplation.
Hogwarts students formed many large and small clubs and groups, like the Gobstones Club or the Magic Herb Club; upper-year students frequently participate in these activities together. Harry and Ron had heard about some but never joined any.
"—Just a place to pass time; don't expect to learn anything useful."
When a club once invited Harry Potter to join, Ron secretly grumbled to him, "Sometimes new members get challenged by seniors and asked to do particularly hard or embarrassing tasks, calling it a test."
Seeing Ron having five older brothers and his experienced manner, Harry chose to trust his friend and politely declined every club invitation.
But now, it was another friend he valued highly, strongly recommending a club said to significantly boost magic spell proficiency.
Given Quirrell's classes were always slapdash, Harry was keenly looking forward to learning how to solve problems with magic in critical moments, and hoped to effortlessly defeat some annoying characters—like Malfoy.
However, Harry also needed to consider Ron's feelings, as he didn't want Ron to feel left behind, leaving him in a dilemma.
After eating, the dinner on the long table disappeared too. The group packed up their belongings, preparing to return to the common room, and Hermione reminded Harry on the way, "Comb your hair—leave a good impression—"
In the corridor, suddenly erupted loud, arrogant laughter, along with the sound of students jeering.
The laughter instantly awakened a profound memory within Harry, who said disgustedly, "It's Malfoy—he's definitely bullying someone!"
Before the words even left his mouth, he dashed out, with Ron running after him.
"Wait—Harry—calm down!"
Hermione stamped her foot, ultimately joining the race too.
In the corridor, Neville was surrounded by a group of Slytherins. He clutched his magic wand, stammering, "Ma-Malfoy, what do you want?"
Draco Malfoy tapped his palm with his magic wand, grinning, "Longbottom, I've learned a new spell and want to practice its effects on someone."
Everyone let out low, malicious laughter.
Neville nervously pointed his magic wand at him, "Don't—don't come near—I'll tell the professor—"
"Locomotor Mortis!"
As Neville retreated, Malfoy suddenly shouted. The spell struck Neville, causing his legs to immediately stick tightly together, like they'd become one inseparable pillar.
Neville instantly fell, his face flushing red as he struggled to get up, appearing as helpless as a dehydrated fish on the ground.
The Slytherins roared with laughter, a boy even kicked Neville's magic wand away.
Draco Malfoy arrogantly bowed to the surrounding crowd like a magician who performed successfully. Turning, he mocked again, "Tell the professor? Merlin's beard—you're such a coward, Longbottom—are you really a Gryffindor or did the Sorting Hat mistakenly place you in the wrong spot?"
"Then where should he be, Draco?" a shrill-voiced girl deliberately asked loudly.
"Good question—Pansy—excellent question—let me think—," Draco pretended to ponder for a moment, glanced sideways, and asked, "How about a trash can?"
Neville let out an uncontrollable sob.
The Slytherins nearly laughed themselves to madness.
"Let him go, Malfoy!"
Harry Potter rushed out from the corridor like a cannonball.