Chapter 1263: Knocking on the Door

Neville cautiously spoke, “Uh… maybe it’s because… I haven’t practiced enough?”

Leian whispered, “Vid said that casting a magic spell and truly mastering a spell are as different as several floors in height. We practiced a long time to learn this spell.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Neville quickly added, “We’ve been learning with Vid and the others at the SSC for so long, and the spells we’re proficient in are just those few… The fact that you can cast the Iron Armor Spell is really impressive.”

“Alright, let’s go again!”

Ron raised an eyebrow, took a deep breath, raised his magic wand, and said seriously, “Neville, don’t hold back, otherwise you’ll be underestimating me!”

“Uh… okay…”

Neville hesitated, swallowing nervously, while casting a pleading look at their temporary coach—Harry.

Harry stifled a laugh, maintaining his “coach” authority, walked over to help Ron correct his posture, and said:

“Remember, the emphasis is on the second syllable! Also, when casting the spell, don’t think ‘block’, think ‘push away’, like you’re pushing away something coming towards you.”

He watched as his friend muttered the spell under his breath a couple of times, feeling it was fine now, so he stepped back from them to let the two continue practicing freely.

Harry returned to his table, intending to drink some water, when suddenly he felt a distinct gaze beside him.

He turned his head to see Vid looking at him, not knowing how long he’d been watching.

Perhaps due to the gray eyes, that gaze seemed particularly profound, as if he were observing Harry, but not at this moment, rather contemplating the future.

Harry paused for a moment and asked, “What’s up?”

He walked over, casually took a pie from Vid’s table, took a bite, and quietly said:

“You make me feel… like Voldemort is about to cause trouble for me again.”

“Not really,” Vid also lowered his voice, “I haven’t heard any news about Voldemort recently, maybe he’s hiding in the shadows, brewing some plot?”

“Then why were you looking at me just now…” Harry touched his face, “Is there something on my face? Or is it the salad dressing from lunch?”

“Nothing,” Vid chuckled, “Just thought… it’s pretty good.”

“Pretty good? What’s pretty good?” Harry was bewildered.

At that moment, Vid recalled a passage that Dumbledore mentioned in the original story—

There is a most mysterious room in the Department of Mysteries, it is always locked, and no one dares to open it.

Or perhaps they simply cannot open it? Vid speculated.

In the story, Dumbledore would tell Harry that the power inside that room is more magical and terrifying than death, human wisdom, and the forces of nature.

The thing that Voldemort spent his life trying to conquer is within that room, but he can never enter.

And Harry, he possesses all the energy from that room.

That power is—love.

As Madam Grey mentioned, the only force that cannot be extracted or touched by magic.

It’s not the madness brought on by a Love Potion, nor is it the false illusion that can be created by altering memories; genuine, pure love is an imprint on the soul’s level.

It’s like Lily Potter’s selfless, sacrificial love that caused Voldemort’s first downfall.

Vid had originally forgotten those parts of the original work, but after experiencing that dream passed to him by Madam Grey, he suddenly recalled it with extraordinary clarity.

“Vid?” Harry’s voice pulled Vid from his reverie, “You alright? You’ve been spacing out for a while.”

Vid shook his head, smiling, “I was just thinking, you’re teaching quite well… making great progress.”

Harry blinked, a slight blush appearing on his face. He lowered his head, took a bite of the pie, and mumbled somewhat sheepishly:

“Why mention that all of a sudden? Besides… it’s because you’ve all been helping me. You and Hermione, you’ve both taught me so much…”

He recalled the nervousness when he first encountered Magic, and the worry of not being able to turn a match into a needle in the first Transfiguration class, suddenly feeling a sense of how quickly time flies.

Suddenly, Harry’s pie-eating motion halted.

He listened intently and uncertainly said, “Vid, did you hear something?”

Vid’s gaze shifted to the door.

“Knock, knock, knock!”

Someone was knocking at the door.

People from the SSC knew the password, they didn’t need to knock.

Vid furrowed his brows, instinctively recalling Percy’s conversation with that Hufflepuff student in the office.

Just as he was about to stand up, he saw Theo put down his pen and walk over without suspicion, opening the door.

When he saw who was outside the door, Theo looked stunned for a moment, and said gently, “Good afternoon… can I help you with something?”

“Sorry to disturb.” Vid heard a soft, gentle voice of a girl, “I heard the SSC activity room is here, is that right?”

Theo glanced back at his companions, then turned and said, “Yes, that’s correct…”

“Bang!”

Ron slammed heavily onto the floor again, falling a bit harder this time as he was knocked back quite far, landing past the mat onto the hard floor.

The sound of the crash momentarily interrupted Theo’s words, and he turned back with a concerned look.

Ron gasped for breath as he got up from the floor, limping as he retrieved his magic wand, about to comment on Neville’s flustered demeanor, when he heard the voice from outside.

“We want to join.”

A girl said, “I heard there’s no Slytherin here, and I know some might think I shouldn’t come, but I still want to try…”

“Slytherin? You really shouldn’t be here!”

Ron said sharply as he walked towards the door, sneering, “Besides sneaky tricks and underhanded moves, what else is remarkable about you people? It’s just that…”

Suddenly, the rest of his words got stuck in his throat.

A girl stood outside the door, much shorter than Ron, with long golden curls gently resting on her shoulders, her face small and delicate.

Her skin was much paler than usual, making her look particularly fragile, like a delicate porcelain doll.

Those blue-gray eyes were gazing at Ron with a mix of surprise and hurt. She blinked, trying to speak calmly:

“Oh, I see… You mean to say Slytherins are all potential Dark Wizards, is that it?”

Ron’s face flushed red, stammering, “I… didn’t mean… that… I thought…”

The girl, seeing he couldn’t articulate any complete reasons, softly said:

“Before coming, I thought I might be rejected. But I thought the reason would be something more respectable.”

“Like… I’m not skilled enough, or I did something wrong in the past, or I lack some qualifications you’re looking for, or simply because your club only recruits friends…”

“Turns out… it’s just because I’m a Slytherin? Do you also judge character by house?”

Hearing her gentle yet piercing words, Ron was taken aback and didn’t know what to say.

Another girl’s voice drifted leisurely in from outside the door:

“If you can judge character by house alone, maybe you can also judge a person’s talent by the color of their coat, or guess the weather based on which foot you lead out with in the morning.”