Good Intentions, Malicious Intent

Wade glanced at him and shook his head.

"Uh..." Michael paused. "You're not planning that? So you're going to—"

"I'll go by myself," Wade said.

"—Got it." Michael nodded. "I'll round everyone up."

"No, Michael. I mean—I'll go by myself," Wade emphasized again.

Michael's eyes widened instantly, his face filled with astonishment. After a moment, he frowned and said, "Who are you? You're not my friend Wade—are you some Gryffindor imposter?"

Wade was speechless. "—I'm not joking."

"Are you crazy?" Michael was serious and anxious, almost shouting. "They're a group, and you're just one!"

"Yes, I know."

Wade patted his arm to calm him down—Michael's reaction was so big that even Professor Binns, who was lecturing slowly, looked over.

Michael quickly lowered his head, shielding his face with A History of Magic from the professor's gaze, then turned to glare fiercely at Wade, gritting his teeth. "Any normal student knows that when a group of people want to bully you, the right thing to do is report it to a professor!"

"Yes, you're right," Wade said softly. "But then, the Slytherins will think we're cowards and bookworms who only run to professors. They failed this time, so they'll definitely brew up another scheme."

"Then let's give them a lesson they'll never forget!" Michael's eyes looked particularly deep. "Listen, I have an idea—Professor Snape has Potions Class with the fourth years this afternoon. After class, you go ask him a question and use that to keep him busy. Then I'll find someone to pass the word to the Slytherins, making them think you're alone there, and they can throw a few Dungbombs as a greeting first..."

"And then Snape, covered in Dungbombs, will rip them apart?" Wade retorted.

"How about it, isn't it great?" Michael asked eagerly.

Wade nodded. "It's great."

"Then we—"

"I still decided to go by myself," Wade insisted stubbornly.

Michael was silent for a moment, then said faintly, "Don't tell me—you were touched by how hard Harry and Neville worked, and decided to side with Gryffindor?"

"How could that be?" Wade chuckled. "I just... well... I can make sure I don't get taken advantage of, and... I don't want to exploit Professor Snape's goodwill and sense of responsibility..."

Michael fell silent.

He slumped onto the table as if exhausted, sighing helplessly. "Wade—people who are too moral are bound to get hurt—"

Wade couldn't help but laugh.

"Not this time, at least," he said.

Wade was very grateful that Michael was always thinking of him, even willing to offend Slytherin and try to use Professor Snape, but there were some things he couldn't tell Michael.

For example, Voldemort or the Death Eaters would visit the school every year from now on, and the situation they would face in the future would be much crueler than now. Many people would die, even Dumbledore, who seemed omnipotent in the eyes of the students.

For example, when Slytherin confronted him, there would be several House-elves in the school constantly monitoring the situation, so he wouldn't actually be in any danger.

And... Michael's guess was correct; he was indeed touched by Harry and Neville.

Watching them get injured repeatedly and then get up again and again to train in the Umbrella Room, filled with cushions and pillows, Wade would recall the plot's young Savior who hadn't even mastered Expelliarmus but went alone to face Quirrell and Voldemort.

Of course, Wade still thought he was too reckless... but looking at it from another perspective, was he being too cautious and lacking courage himself?

If, in an environment where safety was over ninety percent and even accidents could be resolved in time, he couldn't directly face the threat of a few children but had to use schemes and trickery to get others' help to solve it... then after Voldemort's resurrection, would he just tuck his tail and flee Britain?

—Even if one day he had to leave this land, it should be with dignity and integrity, not abandoning friends and teachers, dreams and future, fleeing with his parents like a stray dog.

Moreover, Harry and the others weren't the only ones training in combat during this time; Wade was also observing, learning, and growing through the duels. He found that even top performers like Harry and Hermione were essentially "turret-style" attackers—they lacked flexibility, knew few spells, and the spells they did know had limited power.

When an opponent's spell came at them, it wasn't that they didn't want to dodge. But if they moved, their magic gestures would also change, and their own spells would easily fail or go astray—both of them were like this, and the Slytherin students couldn't be much stronger.

This was the normal level for first-year students.

So even if the number of opponents doubled, Wade couldn't think of a reason why he would lose.

...

Coincidentally, the Herbology class that afternoon was still shared by Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Although the two sides maintained their distance, some of the Slytherins' malice was almost palpable—

They weren't acting masters; restraining their secret for an entire day was already their limit. But the glances exchanged and the occasional smug, gloating looks they cast at Wade completely revealed what they wanted to say, making even students not involved in the matter aware.

"Wade, the Slytherins seem to be up to something."

During the practical session, Anthony Goldstein specifically came over and said to Wade, "Let's all walk out together after class, so they don't bother you."

Wade looked at him, then over his shoulder at a few classmates behind him, shaking his head with a smile at their subtly worried gazes. "Thanks—but no need. I've got it handled."

Goldstein turned to Michael and said, "Michael—"

"Don't bother," Michael shrugged. "When this guy gets stubborn, no one can talk him out of it!"

When class ended, several Slytherin students lingered outside the greenhouse, while the Ravenclaws, at Wade's signal, left with Goldstein.

"Mr. Gray—" Professor Sprout suddenly said, "these Flowing Liquid Grass need to be moved to a different greenhouse. Could you help me carry them?"

Wade, who was about to leave, paused, then said, "Of course, Professor."

He picked up a pot of Flowing Liquid Grass, and Professor Sprout carried one herself. As they left Greenhouse One, the Hufflepuff Head of House looked at the Slytherins loitering around the greenhouse, her face darkened, and she asked coldly, "Is there anything else you need?"

Professor Sprout might usually seem cheerful and approachable, but when she put on a stern face, she was like a volcano about to erupt, quite intimidating.

Malfoy and the others hurriedly said, "No, no." Then they scurried away.

Wade almost burst out laughing.

Professor Sprout's gaze turned to him, and her smile instantly became warm. "Mr. Gray, I imagine you need some help?"

Wade smiled and shook his head, his eyes clear and his smile gentle as he said, "Thank you, Professor. It's just a small misunderstanding—I can handle it myself."

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