A Little Help

"Give it a try..."

Andrew took out the wooden board and the variously sized balls he had just acquired, found an empty classroom, set the board up at one end, then drew the curtains—the last thing he needed was broken glass. He could not repair it yet, and neither finding someone to fix it nor getting caught by Filch would be any good...

It's still pretty strange—really, it's just four branches... Transfiguration is incredible.

After marveling at it again, Andrew drew his wand and softly recited the spell.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

With one final elegant flick of his wand, the smallest replica Snitch seemed to jerk as though struck by something and flew straight into the wall.

"Not bad accuracy, but it's a little slow..."

Andrew cast the spell on the second replica Bludger—the speed was even slower this time, and its destructive power utterly failed to live up to the word "Bludger."

Clearly, just as that upperclassman had said, they were only for show. For real testing, he would have to go to the pitch.

Still, they were enough.

There was no need to test the largest one.

Andrew calmed himself and repeatedly used the Levitation Charm to strike the replica Snitch. The occasional question that came to mind was—if it could fly so fast, why was it still called the Levitation Charm?

That did not stop him from becoming increasingly familiar with the spell. As time passed, the sounds of the Levitation Charm striking the replica Snitch grew sharper and more forceful, while his casting motions became more casual.

He could even stop midway through a short sprint, quickly smack the Snitch away, and make it strike the wooden board around the seven- or eight-point area with a crisp sound.

"Who's there?"

Andrew, absorbed in his practice, suddenly heard the door open. He immediately turned around, his left hand clamped tightly over the nails in his pocket.

"Ah... sorry... I... I didn't know..."

The broken words were accompanied by obvious sniffling, but the visitor was a boy. Andrew remembered him—the boy who had been looking for a toad on the Hogwarts Express. His name seemed to be Neville.

"Come in. Tell me what's wrong."

Though he was reluctant to be interrupted, he had promised himself that he would face life properly and stay positive. So, when faced with trouble that did not violate his principles, he would offer limited help, just like he had on the train.

Simply put, if he could not swim, he would not jump into the water to save someone. But he would seek help from others while trying to find a longer branch.

"N-Nothing..."

"I'm sure I can help with something." Andrew gave him a friendly smile. "You remember me, right? We met on the train."

"Ah..." The crying boy looked up and recognized Andrew almost immediately. "Yes, on the train. Thank you."

"So what happened? Maybe I can offer some useful advice."

"I messed up... They made things up and said I... And I lost a lot more points..."

"Everyone loses points... But who are they?"

"Those Slytherin guys... They said I wasn't suited to be a wizard... I'm starting to wonder that too..."

All right, the situation was clear. From the bits and pieces Andrew had overheard at the dining table, Neville was apparently the Gryffindor target chosen by that professor this year. Unfortunately, he was not doing well in his other classes either, and he was starting to crack under the pressure.

"There's definitely nothing wrong with you being a wizard. Otherwise, the school wouldn't have admitted you. You're just too nervous..."

Andrew offered a brief reassurance before immediately asking the most important question. "Did you hit them?"

"Huh?"

Even Neville was thrown by Andrew's train of thought. "H-Hit them?"

"Yeah. Punch them in the nose while they're saying it."

"No, Gran taught me..."

"Your gran told you not to hit people who attack you?"

"No, Gran said I wasn't allowed to mess around at school."

"That wouldn't be messing around... Though it wouldn't be a good idea for you to hit them now. Upperclassmen can't really get involved in this either... Let me think..." Andrew considered it briefly, and an idea came to him. "Have you gone to Harry Potter?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, go to Harry Potter." Andrew's tone was decisive. "He's the most influential first-year in Gryffindor, right?"

"You were bullied by Slytherin, and then you went to him. What's wrong with that?"

Though striking back this way was a little extreme, if no one stopped those mocking Neville, they would only become worse in the future. Eventually, even fighting back would be seen as insulting them.

The best opportunity had passed. He could only settle for the next best thing: seek out the big brother and strike back under his banner. That would make it less likely to invite one provocation after another later on.

It was a little unfair to Harry Potter, but Gryffindors were used to losing points anyway. Fighting at Hogwarts only cost points—Andrew had looked into it, even sacrificing spell-practice time to do so.

"Th-That's okay?"

"Of course it is. I suggest you say it in the common room—you need to believe in your housemates!"

Perhaps Gryffindor really was united, or perhaps Neville trusted Andrew because his last piece of advice had not led him into trouble. In any case, Neville soon left.

It's not exactly nice, but it really is for his own good—something like this won't stop unless someone steps up... Of two evils, choose the lesser.

Andrew shook his head, closed the door, and resumed practicing his spell.

"A fight? An ambush!"

"A group against one person! And you led them, Potter!"

"Who were the others? Never mind—you certainly won't tell me. Cleaning toilets, Mr. Potter!"

In Professor McGonagall's office, Harry stood there with blood on his nose and grass stalks tangled in his messy hair as he listened to the reprimand. "If Professor Sprout hadn't happened to pass by, you would have proudly beaten the Slytherins flat!"

"And they ran. First-years wouldn't run, so upperclassmen must have led them—you certainly won't tell me that either!"

"No, perhaps you led them yourself. Fine, Gryffindor loses twenty points. You will scrub toilets for a week, Mr. Potter. Report to Filch."

Harry was driven out of the office—his mind was still a complete mess. He had listened to Neville's story, then an upperclassman had suggested the usual method, and somehow he had muddle-headedly gathered people and left the common room.

He had not even expected to gather so many classmates. Then they had cheerfully found those Slytherin students—and those guys still had filthy mouths.

Then... amid total chaos, he had ended up in Professor McGonagall's office.

Oh, no...

A week of toilets...

Feeling thoroughly dejected, he returned to the common room, only to be startled by the crowd that welcomed him.

"Awesome!"

"You didn't say a thing to Professor McGonagall!"

"What a beautiful ambush!"

"They provoked us first!"

(We lost twenty points! But his voice was drowned out.)

The Gryffindor common room was as lively as if they were celebrating a holiday.