Life-or-Death Speed Copying Homework Battle

"What right do you have to say that? You didn't finish either."

Facing Ron's accusation, Seamus curled his lip, unconvinced.

"These assignments are too hard—except for the Herbology essay, I can barely understand the rest."

Neville answered uneasily, his face flushing red.

Ron's brain raced, and he suddenly exclaimed again:

"No worries, Damon definitely finished! Let's borrow Damon's!"

"I must remind you, Ron, Damon's missing. Did you forget?"

"Merlin's beard! At the most critical moment! Where in the world did he go!"

Ron let out a despairing shout.

Even though they all knew Damon's homework was sitting right on his desk, they couldn't borrow it without his permission.

The four in the dorm had never missed Damon this much.

After Saturday afternoon, they'd slogged through another evening and morning, only to realize there was no way they could finish all their assignments by Sunday night on their own.

So Ron and Harry, unwilling to give up, found Hermione and got an extra dose of humiliation—"If you'd listened to me earlier, you wouldn't be in this mess."

Hermione refused their request to copy her work and left with her books.

The four decided to take a different approach, changing their strategy.

"Neville, where did Damon actually go?"

They copied Neville's Herbology essay while dividing up the rest of the assignments—each person only needed to complete one. They used rock-paper-scissors to decide who'd tackle the terrifying two-foot Transfiguration essay, and Harry lost.

"I don't know. He didn't tell me."

Neville stared at the Potions reference books, his eyes glazing over.

"Fine, forget Damon. If we keep relying on him, we'll never finish before dinner!"

Harry let out a frustrated yell.

The four went all out, working through another afternoon without even stopping for lunch—they were genuinely panicking now.

By the time the sunlight on the desk turned orange, their expressions had grown increasingly desperate. The other essays were one thing, but the two-foot Transfiguration paper—there was no way they'd finish it in time.

Would they have to slap something together and face Professor McGonagall's criticism? Thinking of her stern, serious face, Harry felt awful. Thanks to Quidditch, he'd gotten a bit closer to her, and he really didn't want to see disappointment in her eyes.

Just as the four were in despair, a light voice sounded, tinged with weariness: "You all look busy."

"Merlin's beard! Damon, where have you been! Save us!"

Ron shouted, his expression relaxing a little—though not completely, because he wasn't sure if Damon would lend them his homework.

With Ron leading, the others held back, but they all stood up and followed behind him.

"Oh, homework not done yet?" Damon walked into the dorm and came right back out, tossing his essays lightly onto the desk under the four's worshipful gazes. "Copy selectively. Don't replicate it exactly—I don't want the professors coming after me."

Seeing Damon hand over his homework without a second thought, the four cheered. Without time to think, they started frantically copying!

Watching them scribble away, Damon smiled, suddenly reminded of himself racing against the clock during middle school breaks.

Harry never imagined the most thrilling part of the first week would be the hour before homework was due. After a life-or-death sprint, they finished all their essays at the last second, and Damon even had time to help them check for mistakes.

At dinner, Seamus and Ron excitedly recounted how tense they'd been. Neville, having survived the ordeal, was flushed and waving his arms.

Harry was excited too, but more curious—where had Damon been for those two days?

"Mate, where did you go for two days? We missed you like crazy."

Ron slung an arm around Damon's shoulder, voicing Harry's question.

"Went somewhere quiet to practice spells."

"Practice spells? For two whole days? That's a laugh, mate—I didn't think you'd joke like that."

Ron chuckled, but when he saw Damon calmly eating, his expression turned odd.

"You're serious, Damon? You're saying—after the holiday, you spent all your free time practicing spells? That's insane!"

Ron's loud outburst drew attention, and he wasn't the only one thinking it.

Seamus's expression was particularly telling—his mouth slightly open, the right side of his cheek twitching, as if he'd seen something incomprehensible.

Neville looked a bit envious. If only he could work as hard and be as excellent as Damon—maybe then his grandmother wouldn't always scold him for being useless.

September passed in Damon's daily practice, monotonous yet interesting.

For the other young wizards, though, the month felt a bit too intense.

Damon White always finished the content taught in Transfiguration and Charms class on the first try. In Potions, it was even more startling—Professor Snape focused most of his attention on Damon. If his movements were even slightly off, Damon would get a barrage of cold sarcasm.

Thanks to Damon, Harry and Neville felt much more relaxed in Potions. Damon wasn't a pushover, and Snape's criticisms weren't always right—they often clashed, which drew even more of Snape's fire.

Once, they argued over an operational issue for nearly half the class. Damon's voice stayed calm and steady, while Snape grew more and more "agitated," the gleam in his eyes growing brighter.

And that class, Snape didn't even have time to sneer at Harry once.

In just one month, Damon's progress in Potions Class was astonishingly fast. Snape's lectures could no longer keep up with his improvement. Whenever Snape assigned a task, Damon completed it at lightning speed, leaving no fault to be found.

"Damon, look at this balm you've brewed. What are these ugly diamond patterns on it? Your terrible taste?"

Snape held up Damon's latest healing balm with tweezers, his expression mocking.

"Professor, need I remind you? These patterns make it easier to tear off pieces of the finished balm. Or is it that your poor brain can only handle rigid formulas and can't manage even a shred of innovation?"

Damon smiled as he tidied everything up, watching Snape's face turn completely dark.

"For talking back to the professor, I'm deducting one point from Gryffindor. Now that you've finished today's work, leave my classroom immediately!"

"As you wish, sir."

Conversations like this played out again and again in the young wizards' eyes, and the points Snape deducted were always added back to Damon in the next class for some reason.

As days passed, Damon White's reputation among the first-year wizards rose like the tide of a lake, growing higher with each passing day.