## Chapter 73: Clubs and Bullying
Harry finished his grueling training and went to the Great Hall for dinner, where he saw Ron and Hermione already at the long table. Hermione was flipping through a book, while Ron was deep in thought, holding a piece of bread.
"You know what?" Ron suddenly said in a low voice as Harry approached, "I've discovered a truth."
"—What is it?" Harry asked curiously, piling food onto his plate.
"Oh," Ron turned his head, a remarkably serious expression on his face, "if you don't eat lunch, dinner tastes much better!" He took a fierce bite of bread.
"I discovered a truth when I was three," Harry mimicked him.
"Please, Mr. Potter," Ron gestured, speaking vaguely but solemnly.
"If you're tired and hungry, any meal tastes great!" Harry said, taking a huge bite out of half a sandwich.
Hermione glanced at them, then heavily underlined and annotated her book twice. Only after Harry had mostly filled his stomach did she frown and say, "The match is so soon, why is the team training so intensely?"
"—Yeah, it's because the match is soon," Harry's stomach churned just thinking about it, "and Snape's the referee."
"Listen, mate, Snape's definitely holding a grudge against you for beating Slytherin last time!" Ron offered a suggestion: "Why don't you just break your leg? Then you won't have to play."
Hermione snorted, too exasperated to correct their "persecution complex."
But Harry said with a grimace, "I can't pull out of the match—Gryffindor doesn't have a backup Seeker. If I quit, Gryffindor won't be able to play."
"If you're really worried about Professor Snape or—someone else trying to harm you, then you should try to improve your magic, instead of just daydreaming all day." Hermione barely managed to stop herself from saying 'Professor Quirrell's' name. She said earnestly, "Harry, we were supposed to go to the Umbrella Room yesterday afternoon. I already told everyone."
"Yes—I'm sorry," Harry said, looking troubled, "but Wood suddenly announced a training session—"
"That's because it rained yesterday, and Hufflepuff didn't want their players' performance affected, so they cancelled their reservation. Then Wood rushed to book the pitch—" Hermione said discontentedly, "as if someone was going to snatch it."
"Don't say that," Harry explained in a humble tone, "Wood's doing it for the House Cup too—if we can win this match against Hufflepuff, we'll be ahead of Slytherin in the House Cup. It'll be the first time in seven years—"
Harry wasn't usually so humble in front of his friends, but lately, Hermione had been willing to lend him her notes, help him check his homework, guide him on his A History of Magic essay, and even teach him practical spells he hadn't learned yet...
Harry wasn't heartless. In fact, he was quite sensitive and starved for affection. He could clearly feel that Hermione genuinely cared about him, offering selfless help without expecting anything in return. So, Harry's attitude naturally became more and more deferential; he barely even dared to breathe loudly around Hermione.
"Hermione, is that 'Scamper Club' (SSC) really that good? We've never heard of it," Ron questioned.
Hermione frowned. "Don't use that word! SSC stands for Starry Sky Chaser. I dare say it's definitely the best study club at Hogwarts—at least for first years."
Ron made a face that looked like a toothache mixed with awe. "A study club, huh… figures, Hermione!"
Harry fell into thought.
Hogwarts students formed many clubs and societies, big and small, like the Gobledegook Club or the Magical Herbology Club. Older students were often seen attending club activities together. Harry and Ron had heard of some, but hadn't joined any.
"—It's just a place to kill time, don't expect to learn anything useful."
When a certain club invited Harry Potter to join, Ron had privately whispered to him, "New members sometimes get picked on by older members. They'll make you do really hard or embarrassing things, and call it a test."
Given that Ron had five older brothers, and he spoke with such experience, Harry chose to trust his friend and politely declined all club invitations.
But now, another friend he highly valued was strongly recommending a club that supposedly could significantly improve one's spellcasting abilities.
Given how mediocre Quirrell's lessons always were, Harry was actually quite looking forward to it. He longed to be able to solve problems with magic at crucial moments, and he hoped to easily defeat certain annoying people—like Malfoy.
However, Harry also had to consider Ron's feelings. He didn't want Ron to feel left behind, so he remained conflicted.
Full and satisfied, the dinner on the long table vanished. The trio gathered their things, preparing to head back to the common room. On the way, Hermione was still admonishing Harry, "Comb your hair—make a good impression on everyone—"
Suddenly, a arrogant laugh echoed through the corridor, along with the jeering of many students.
That laugh immediately brought back a profound memory for Harry. He said with disgust, "It's Malfoy—he's definitely bullying someone!"
Before he even finished speaking, he rushed out, with Ron running right behind him.
"Wait—Harry—calm down!"
Hermione stomped her foot, and could only follow them.
In the corridor, Neville was surrounded by a group of Slytherins. He clutched his Wand, stammering, "Ma-Malfoy, what do you want?"
Draco Malfoy tapped his Wand against his palm, laughing. "Longbottom, I just learned a new spell, and I'm looking for someone to practice it on."
Everyone chuckled lowly, with ill intent.
Neville nervously pointed his Wand at him. "Don't—don't come any closer—I'll tell a professor—"
"*Locomotor Mortis!*"
As he backed away, Malfoy suddenly yelled, and the spell hit Neville. His legs instantly stuck together tightly, as if they had become an inseparable pillar.
Neville immediately fell, his face flushed red. He struggled to stand, but thrashed on the ground like a fish out of water.
The Slytherins burst into laughter, and one boy even kicked his Wand away.
Draco Malfoy bowed triumphantly to his surroundings, like a magician who had performed a successful trick. He then turned and scoffed, "Tell a professor? Merlin—you're such a coward, Longbottom—are you really a Gryffindor? Or did the Sorting Hat accidentally put you, a big idiot, in the wrong place?"
"Where should he go then, Draco?" a high-pitched girl deliberately asked loudly.
"Good question—Pansy—good question—let me think—" Draco deliberately feigned thought, hesitating for a moment, looking left and right, then asked, "How about the rubbish bin?"
Neville let out an uncontrollable sob.
The Slytherins were practically roaring with laughter.
"Let him go, Malfoy!"
Harry Potter burst out of the corridor like a cannonball.
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