After the Early Summer Rain

Boom!

Clang!

Thunder roared and torrential rain poured down.

The rain poured down like a torrent on the ancient walls of Hogwarts Castle, torrents of water cascading down the cracks in the stones, heavy droplets striking the leaves of the Whomping Willow with a dense, loud pattering sound.

Moist air wafted freely through the Castle corridors, creating a cool breeze that rustled the parchment pages.

The young wizards of Gryffindor refused to close the windows, letting the clamor of the rain echo. Everyone was shouting at the top of their lungs, cheering and shouting, as exhilarating as the rain and wind that night.

"Exploding Snap! We're one short, anyone want to join?!"

Count me in!

"Where are my slippers! Who kicked my slippers away?!"

"Stop wearing them, go barefoot!"

"General!"

"Wait a minute, I want to take back a move!"

The break room was in complete chaos, so loud it hurt your ears. But no one left; they shouted and yelled, adding their own words to the deafening noise.

"Hold out your hand and you'll get hit!"

Loren shouted excitedly to Hermione.

They were playing a very childish game: one person held out their hand, and the other slapped it. If someone got hit, they lost and continued to be slapped. If they pulled their hand away, they won, and the other person would start getting slapped.

It's important to note that if the strike goes past the center line, it's a fake attack; dodging it won't help. You only win if you dodge a strike that goes past the center line.

Hermione had barely reached out her hand when Loren slapped her hard across the face.

"Ah--"

Hermione screamed, both angry and amused, unable to stop smiling.

They sat cross-legged on a single sofa, knees touching, able to feel each other's body heat.

The little Witch had long, messy hair that fell down her back, and she would laugh so hard she would shake; she didn't look like the Miss Know-It-All.

"Keep getting beaten!" Loren urged.

Hermione wiped away the tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes, slowly stretched out her hand, and then abruptly pulled it back, anticipating another surprise attack.

The plan failed, Loren's hand remained raised in place, motionless.

She had no choice but to reach out again, and this time Loren launched a surprise attack.

Snap!

"You've gone too far, hmph, another sneak attack—" Hermione tried her best to sound aggrieved, but she couldn't stop laughing from her words.

Stop playing the victim and just give me a beating!

Loren showed no mercy. After taking so many hits from this girl, it was finally time for the tables to turn.

Hermione pouted unconvinced. According to her analysis, her enhanced body had a faster reaction speed than this person, so she would definitely have the advantage in this game that tested reaction speed.

Unexpectedly, this is not a game that tests reaction speed at all, but a game of psychological warfare. The key is to guess when the opponent will actually fight and when they will fake it.

A slight advantage in reaction time is of little use, but the cunning Loren can always guess what she's thinking.

Snap!

She received another slap on the palm, and her fair, snow-white hand was now red.

"Hahaha, you're going to get beaten up again!" Loren laughed wildly. "Hurry up and stick it out."

Her hand only hurt a little, but the humiliation was too much to bear. Hermione buried her head, put her hands behind her back, and said in a muffled voice, "You're too cunning, I'm not playing with you anymore!"

"Hehehe—" Loren couldn't help but laugh. The two of them were squeezed together on a single sofa, their heads buried in each other, and the girl's self-deception was useless.

"If you don't want to play, then don't. Just take the beating." Loren lowered his head, pressed his forehead against Hermione's, and reached out to grab her hand.

Hermione laughed and tucked her hands under her armpits, trying to push him away with her head.

Loren pried her arms off, but Hermione hid her hands behind her legs, refusing to let him succeed.

Just then, a disheveled figure, soaking wet, entered from outside the lounge.

His hair was soaked by the rain and clung to his scalp; his clothes were wrinkled and huddled together, even dripping water onto the floor.

Neville's appearance stunned the young wizards in the lounge, and the deafening noise stopped for a moment.

Hermione, unable to control her urges, collapsed into Loren's arms. She quickly sat up, blushing, and looked around to make sure no one had noticed her embarrassment before letting out a sigh of relief.

Percy and several other members of the Animagus class crowded around, eagerly asking, "Did it work? Did it work?"

"Neville, what is your Animagus?"

"Can you show us?"

It was a long-awaited stormy night. They all knew the next steps of Professor McGonagall's Animagus Ritual with Neville. Although the chances of success were slim, they held onto a sliver of hope.

Neville took two steps back and stammered, "It failed. Professor McGonagall said I still need to gain more experience."

"I... I'm going to change my clothes!" Neville hurriedly went upstairs.

The young wizards in the Teaching Class exchanged glances and didn't press for more information. It was better to leave Neville alone to calm down at this time.

After a brief silence, the crackling of the Exploding Snap resumed in the lounge, and the boisterous laughter and chatter returned.

Hermione looked away, and asked with some concern, "Will Neville be alright?"

"It's alright, Neville is stronger than most people." Loren seized the opportunity and slapped the back of her hand, feeling instantly relieved.

Hermione gritted her teeth in anger, got up, and shoved him onto the sofa...

Upstairs in his dormitory, Neville, having changed his clothes, stared blankly at himself in the mirror for a while before starting to pack his suitcase for going home.

He has a lot of things to take home, so it's best to start packing in advance. The remaining days can be used to recall what he forgot to bring.

Animagus was a daring attempt, just like when he was 8 years old, his Uncle Algil grabbed him by the ankles and hoisted him down from the rooftop window—it was just an experiment.

For Neville, failure has been a constant companion throughout his life for the past decade or so, with success being the only exception. He has grown accustomed to this kind of failure.

It's like falling off a building.

Unharmed and incredibly resilient.

A sudden storm comes and goes quickly.

The next morning, when Loren opened his eyes, the wind and rain that had been raging all night had stopped.

I rolled out of bed, went barefoot, and opened the window. The sky, which had been covered by thick clouds, was now clear.

A cool breeze swept over me, and I took a deep breath of the fresh, moist air. The bright sunlight made me feel refreshed, as if I had exhaled all the dust that had accumulated in my lungs.

Wash up, change clothes, and go out.

I ran into Prefect Percy in the dormitory corridor. The two walked out together, exchanging a few words every now and then.

Loren asked, "Has Professor McGonagall applied for the internship? Or is she determined to pursue a career in the Ministry of Magic after graduation and has no interest in the Potions business?"

"I signed up for a two-week internship, and I'll spend the rest of the time traveling to Egypt with my family." Percy clicked his tongue, sensing that something was off about the atmosphere; Loren sounded like an elder to him.

He paused for a moment, then decided to take the initiative. "You're about to enter your third year, so use the holidays to review the basic knowledge you learned in the first two years. It will be very helpful later. If you're interested in becoming the Prefect, you should start preparing now..."

Loren responded half-heartedly, and the two left the corridor, following the railing down the stairs.

"Also," Percy's tone suddenly brightened, and he winked at him, "Make sure you're in a relationship early on. Once you get busy in your senior years, you'll always feel like you don't have enough time to date."

"Huh? Why did the topic suddenly veer off course?"

Loren followed Percy's gaze and looked down, where he saw a beautiful figure sitting quietly on the sofa, holding a book in her hands. She didn't know the title of the book, and the girl was looking up at him with a bright smile in her eyes.

Schools have been closed, and the young wizards are no longer wearing their magic robes; many have changed into their home clothes.

Hermione wore a dark green short-sleeved top, like the leaves of the evergreen trees in the Forbidden Forest, with a lotus-patterned collar, revealing a small section of her fair wrist. Below, she wore black wide-leg trousers, her youthful body brimming with vibrant life.

Ignoring Percy, Loren walked briskly downstairs to the girl and said, "Say good morning to me!"

"Good morning." Hermione tucked the book into the Whale Pendant around her neck.

"Good morning, Hermione too."

Loren nodded in satisfaction. "What's the schedule for today? Are we going to practice Illusion again—or to the Forbidden Forest?"

"Hmm." Hermione gave a mischievous smile. "The holidays are coming soon, so I need to catch up quickly, otherwise I won't be able to learn Apparition, and it won't be convenient for me to beat you up at home."

I'm not even going to pretend anymore!

Loren's eyes widened immediately. "What are you saying! What are you talking about?"

The two chattered away as they walked toward the Great Hall to have breakfast.

They arrived too early; the Great Hall was nearly empty, with fewer than ten young wizards scattered across the long tables of the four houses. The High Table, however, were filled with professors, including the Head of House of the four houses and Dumbledore, who occasionally greeted passing young wizards.

Seeing that Professor Flitwick had finished breakfast and left the Great Hall, Hermione took a few bites of her sandwich and pushed the plate with the two remaining fried eggs in front of Loren: "It's yours now, don't waste food."

Hermione pulled out a tissue to wipe her mouth and hurried away.

Ten minutes after finishing breakfast, Loren got up and slowly walked towards the Entrance Hall, preparing to go fishing at Black Lake.

I'm just killing time anyway, and of course, the main thing is that the rising water level is good for fishing.

Passing by the corridor next to the courtyard, the plants in the yard looked even more lush and green after the rain, catching the eye.

The snail with the lower shell attached itself to the back shell of another snail, slowly moving forward along the branches and leaves of a shrub. An unexpected drop of water fell on the snail's shell, startling both snails, which simultaneously retreated into their shells. It took them a while to recover before they poked their heads out again and continued crawling forward.

Loren couldn't resist squatting down to observe closely, occasionally placing leaves in front of the snails to create obstacles, or luring them into a puddle to force them to change direction. He became quite engrossed in the activity.

"Isn't a vibrant scene even more captivating, Loren?" Dumbledore appeared beside him at some point, looking at him with gentle eyes.

Loren sighed and looked up helplessly. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I have a grudge against Sirius Black Black, not against you."

A smile appeared on Dumbledore's lips.

Even if you are a capitalist reformist wizard who advocates equality for all and opposes the power of dark wizards, you have never tried to change the privileged status of Pure-blood nobles in a practical sense, changed the wizards' discriminatory views against Muggle, or cracked down on the breeding ground for dark forces, such as Knockturn Alley, the Ministry of Magic, and the interest groups of the Hogwarts Board of Governors.

But considering your psychological trauma, I understand your approach to maintaining stability. So, Headmaster Dumbledore, you can speak frankly; there's no need to beat around the bush. We're not strangers."

Dumbledore was taken aback, paused for a moment, then laughed easily, and stopped to stroke his messy beard after laughing for a while.

Although Loren was complaining about him, his frank words meant that he still trusted his old headmaster and was willing to be close to him.

If he becomes respectful, polite, humble, and cautious, Dumbledore worried.

"The greatest contribution I have made to this world is that I have never fought for or put into practice power." Dumbledore shook his head. "These are the things I hope you will do in the future."

He got down to business. "I have spoken with some Healer and scholars who study the soul about the Lumbard couple ' treatment plan."

The Lumbard couple' souls were tormented by the Unforgivable Curses; their consciousness and memories were in disarray, and untangling their consciousness was like trying to find a loose thread in a room full of yarn. It was incredibly difficult and dangerous.

Loren looked at the snail trapped in the waterline, thrashing around aimlessly. "Professor, I recommend you read some books on Muggle psychology. Although I don't understand the soul, I know that human consciousness is a very strange thing, even more magical than magic. The Lumbard couple' chaotic consciousness was not caused by the Unforgivable Curses, but rather that their consciousness blurred their perception and sanity in order to resist unbearable pain."

"Their souls are not dilapidated and crumbling houses, but rather lush and twisted jungles. We don't need to rebuild them brick by brick; we just need to raise a beam of light in the darkness to guide the way."

"That's truly fascinating knowledge," Dumbledore exclaimed. "Could you elaborate?"

"I can use Bloody Mary's Hand Mirror to open a path to the depths of their consciousness, allowing Neville to delve into the depths of his mind, use kinship to resist the pain in his memories, and awaken their minds from the inside out."

Loren's fingers traced a line across the waterline in front of the snail. "Of course, this is dangerous, and there's no guarantee it will work."

"It will definitely succeed." Dumbledore's eyes shone even brighter. "Love, the greatest Magic Power ..."

The two snails twitched their antennae and moved forward slowly and steadily along the suddenly appeared path.

A week later, a lively Year-End Feast brought the school year to a close.

The banquet was scheduled before the final exam results were released, so that the young wizard could enjoy the banquet in peace.

With the exception of a very few, such as Hermione, most young wizards felt that this arrangement was reasonable.

The Great Hall's red and gold decorations, representing Gryffindor, were freshly renovated to celebrate their two-time consecutive House Cup victory. Behind the High Table, a massive banner depicting the Gryffindor lion hung majestically on the wall.