The Eve of the Duel

Just as Li Mu had expected, Hermione barely said a word to Ron afterward. She did not take even a single step toward him of her own accord, and even deliberately looked away so she would not have to see him.

She was genuinely furious.

As for how Li Mu knew all this... wasn't Harry Potter right there watching?

In the second week, the class schedules for all the houses were adjusted. Gryffindor's Potions class was moved to Tuesday afternoon, together with Slytherin. With fewer people in class, potion-brewing groups had returned to the "historical" arrangement of two students per group.

But this was a good thing for Gryffindor as a whole. With Queen Hermione watching over them, little chubby Longbottom probably would not make any more major mistakes—at least, he would not end up at Madam Pomfrey's again...

Of course, on the afternoon Hermione proposed switching groups, Neville had not yet returned from the School Hospital. In truth, he had not been seriously hurt during Flying Class, and by all rights he should have fully recovered within these past couple of days. But as soon as he heard that Tuesday afternoon meant Potions, Longbottom curled up in his hospital bed and began crying out in pain. Madam Pomfrey, ever caring toward the injured, insisted that he rest a few more days before being discharged.

Thus, during that Potions class, Queen Hermione chopped and mixed ingredients all by herself, her hands moving at lightning speed. She somehow completed her potion better and faster than every other two-person group. The ferocity with which she handled the ingredients terrified the students seated behind her, and even the usually arrogant Slytherins silently chose to ignore her.

Another obvious point was... without Hermione's "guidance," Ron still messed things up. He forgot to add bezoar before putting in the leech antennae. Harry Potter, beside him, was not particularly skilled at Potions either, and he had completely forgotten as well.

As a result, the liquid in their cauldron turned an extremely unnatural blackish brown and began giving off waves of pungent odor. In the dim light of the dungeon, they could vaguely see wisps of green smoke rising from the surface of the potion.

"You two idiots, did you forget to add bezoar to neutralize the toxicity? Are you trying to poison the entire class?" Seeing this, Snape predictably drifted over to Harry in his great cloak, a gloomy smile on his face and mockery dripping from his words. "Oh? Is this the level of our great Savior? Or do you always want the people around you to make fools of themselves, just to show how extraordinary you are?"

Snape swept a large hand through the air, and with a Puff, the flames beneath the cauldron went out. The potion was no longer heated, and the green smoke and pungent odor gradually faded away.

Harry sighed helplessly, while Ron's face turned a deep purplish red. They faced the looks around them—some disdainful, some mocking, some mournful—in alarm.

Among those gazes, Ron and Harry sensed one especially malicious stare. They turned their heads, but it was not Malfoy as they had expected. Malfoy was lowering his head over the cauldron before him, his platinum-blond hair glinting faintly as though every ounce of his attention was immersed in studying and researching Potions.

That malicious gaze belonged to Pansy Parkinson. Sitting beside Malfoy, she held her head high and stared at the Gryffindors with gloating delight. She even waved a fist provocatively at Ron. The Slytherins around her were all in high spirits, openly reveling in their misfortune.

"I'll show her what's what the night after tomorrow... even if she's a girl!..." Ron gritted out.

By Wednesday afternoon, Madam Pomfrey finally approved little chubby Neville's discharge after he stubbornly insisted on it. Neville had his reasons for insisting, because Wednesday afternoon's class was Herbology.

Neville truly loved Professor Sprout's Herbology. It was one of the few subjects in which he possessed exceptional talent. Moreover, Gryffindor shared this class with Hufflepuff. Compared with the sharp-tongued Slytherins and proud Ravenclaws, Neville much preferred the kind and gentle Hufflepuffs. Throughout the entire lesson, Neville seemed divinely inspired and performed far beyond his usual level—he even earned Gryffindor two points for the first time in his life because he gave Dragon Root Grass exactly the right amount of water.

However, as soon as Herbology ended, he faced an extremely difficult choice.

"Tonight? Oh, no... I can't go with you. We'll get caught." Neville wore a timid expression.

Neville walked up the stone steps in front of the castle, with Ron and Harry beside him. It was mealtime after Herbology, and the students were making their way from the greenhouses outside the castle toward the Great Hall. Just moments ago, halfway there, Ron had suddenly tried to rope Neville into joining the duel.

Only to be immediately refused.

"No backbone," Ron muttered, though his pale face revealed his own lack of confidence.

Their duel with Pansy Parkinson, set for Wednesday night in the Trophy Room, would begin before long.

He had agreed readily enough at the time, but now that the duel was approaching, Ron's legs could not stop trembling. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that the other side would not follow traditional dueling rules. Crabbe and Goyle might both join in, and perhaps Malfoy would be lurking somewhere in the dark to trip them up—if that happened, then he and Harry, with their skinny arms and legs, would be at far too much of a disadvantage.

Ron felt that they had to find more people to fill out their side, even if it was Neville.

Harry could only shrug helplessly at that. He patted Neville on the shoulder and said, "It's okay." To be honest, Harry thought it would be better if Neville did not go. He did not want Neville ending up in Madam Pomfrey's hospital bed again.

Besides, Harry realized that he truly could not trust Ron. Though Ron had been acting very enthusiastic these past two days, constantly offering him advice and encouragement—for example, cheering him on in an exaggerated tone: "Oh! Harry, trust me, when the time comes, just say a spell to scare Crabbe. Any spell at all, then rush in and kick him hard! Don't worry about his spells. I guarantee his wand won't even produce a spark..."

Or showing immense disdain for Pansy Parkinson simply because she was a girl: "As for Pansy... once Crabbe goes down, she'll probably be scared out of her wits."

But Harry found that Ron made it sound easy, yet when the moment actually came, he was the most nervous of all.

"Wait," Harry finally said, having made up his mind. He stopped walking.

At that moment, they had just climbed the final stone step and reached the entrance hall on the castle's first floor. Ron and Neville stopped at the door and watched Harry turn around and head back the way they had come. There, Li Mu was walking with his two roommates, Ernie and Justin, chatting and laughing about amusing tidbits from History of Magic.

Seeing Harry block their path, Li Mu paused in surprise and gave his two roommates an apologetic smile. Ernie and Justin knew they had something to discuss, and though they were displeased, they could not show it. They nodded and left first.

"Li, are you going tonight?" Once no one else was around, Harry adjusted his glasses and looked at Li Mu through the lenses with his emerald-green eyes.

Harry had thought this through carefully. If there was truly anyone at Hogwarts who could help him with something like this, it was the Chinese boy standing before him.

Mysterious kung fu, wandless magic... with Li Mu there, their chances of winning the duel would be much greater, right? Harry was already beginning to regret it. Why had he not asked Li Mu to be his second back then?... No, if Li Mu had been beside him at the time, this whole duel business would never have happened in the first place.

He, Harry Potter, the great Savior in everyone else's eyes, dueling a girl? If word got out, people would laugh their heads off. Peeves would compose an entire new rhyming song about it, and Fred and George would probably develop a whole series of prank toys themed around "The Savior Battles a Little Girl"...

Harry finally admitted that he had been angry all along over Ron's self-important decision. At this critical moment, Harry realized that the only classmate he could trust was Li Mu—the first friend his own age he had made in the wizarding world.

He waited for his answer.

I suddenly got notified that I'd been put on the recommendation list...

But what was I supposed to do when I had no saved chapters?

Writing more than 2,400 words today was already really pushing it, okay... ==|||

(End of Chapter)