Harry Potter: The Golden Viper
0742 Happiness & Distress

Ever since Professor Watson had left Hogwarts Castle to find a way to save Hermione's life and track down the mysterious perpetrator behind the attack, the atmosphere during their physical training classes had undergone a transformation.

The sessions had become more relaxed and informal, almost casual in comparison to the intense, military-like way than when Professor Watson and Hermione were present.

After all, without Professor Watson's presence, many of the training exercises couldn't be conducted, which left them to focus on consolidating their fundamental dodging abilities and practicing the basic spells

In the spacious training with the constant clanging and rattling of practice, Cedric approached Harry's practice area slowly. Clutched in his right hand was a copy of that day's emergency edition of the Daily Prophet.

Before this moment, Cedric would never have dared to approach Harry when the boy was in one of his increasingly frequent and volatile moods. For weeks now, Harry had been behaving like a porcupine, prickling with rage and suspicion, lashing out at anyone who dared to get too close or ask the wrong question at the wrong moment.

"I heard through that Professor Black has sent word from St. Mungo's that Hermione is completely out of danger now," Cedric said carefully, his voice carrying a mixture of genuine concern and hope as he observed Harry's face for any signs of the explosive anger. "Is that information accurate??"

"Wait just a moment, Neville, let me have a proper conversation with Cedric—" Harry called out to his practice partner, his voice carrying none of the sharp edges that had been present in his words for the past several weeks.

Harry had been helping Neville practice the Disarming Charm as among all the students in their class, Harry's mastery of the Disarming Charm was generally acknowledged to be the best.

Using the sleeve of his robes to wipe away the sweat on his forehead during the intense training session, Harry took several deep breaths to control his breathing and heart rate before turning his attention to Cedric.

His still-sweaty face broke into the first genuine smile that anyone had seen from him in days.

"That's right, Cedric," Harry confirmed, his voice carrying warmth and relief. "Sirius did indeed say exactly that when he visited us."

The fact that Harry Potter was able to speak calmly and warmly with Cedric, without the suspicious glares and only just restrained hostility that had been in their recent interactions would have been absolutely incredible to imagine just a few days ago.

However, the news of Hermione's recovery had worked like a powerful healing potion on Harry's angry heart, quickly washing away the accumulated bitterness, paranoia, and hostility that had been eating away at his soul.

Even though the boy standing in front of him was the same person who had, in Harry's opinion, somehow managed to steal away the affections of Cho Chang, he was willing to engage in conversation and perhaps even exchange a few friendly words.

"That's absolutely wonderful news—probably the best news I've heard in months," Cedric replied, his face lighting up with an expression of genuine relief and happiness.

Seeing that Harry wasn't giving him one of those intimidating glares that had become his signature expression as of late, Cedric breathed a sigh of relief.

He hadn't failed to overhear some of the more extreme remarks that both Harry and Ron had made during this period, comments that had ranged from wild conspiracy theories to outright accusations of deliberate sabotage focused on him and the other tournament champions.

While Cedric hadn't particularly taken these emotional outbursts to heart, the hostile atmosphere that had surrounded the two Gryffindor boys had made it inappropriate for him to inquire too deeply into Hermione's condition or give any words of support or comfort.

As Harry reflected on his own behavior during those terrible days of uncertainty and fear, particularly his verbal attacks on the other three tournament champions whom he had accused of everything from conspiracy to attempted murder, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of embarrassment.

The memory of his wild accusations and paranoid theories made his cheeks burn with embarrassment, and he began pressing his lips together in a tight line of regret while his eyes deliberately avoided Cedric's sincere and understanding gaze for several uncomfortable seconds.

"The healers at St. Mungo's Hospital have already given Hermione a thorough magical examination," Harry explained.

"According to their assessment, they believe that Hermione has made a complete recovery and could theoretically return to Hogwarts at any time without any risk to her health. However, both Sirius and several high-ranking officials from the Ministry of Magic believe it would be wise for her to remain at the hospital for at least another two days, until Professor Watson returns from overseas and they can consult with him about the best course of action moving forward."

Harry's gaze drifted toward the copy of the Daily Prophet that was tucked under Cedric's arm, and he caught a glimpse of Professor Watson's familiar face on the front page of the magical newspaper.

"Ah, that means—"

Cedric's brain quickly processed this new information, and he realized what this meant for all of them. His eyes widened with excitement as he spread out the magical newspaper to better display Professor Watson's photograph, which continued to move and shift in the mesmerizing way that all magical photographs did.

When Cedric spoke again, his voice carried an unmistakable note of excitement and anticipation.

"This means that Hermione could potentially return to Hogwarts at any time now, and Professor Watson will be coming back to resume his classes as well, doesn't it?"

"I believe that's absolutely correct," Harry responded, letting the corners of his mouth to turn up in what felt like the first truly genuine smile he had managed in weeks.

Cedric clenched his fist with excitement.

"Actually, Harry—" He began, his voice suddenly taking on a more urgent and confidential tone that immediately caught Harry's attention.

The thought of resuming their physical education classes under Professor Watson's guidance filled him with an almost childlike anticipation, because if he was being completely honest with himself, the physical education classes without Professor Watson's presence felt utterly lifeless and pointless, like trying to play Quidditch without a Golden Snitch or attempting to brew potions without any magical ingredients.

But then, with the swift movement of someone who had made a sudden decision, Cedric leaned slightly closer to Harry's ear.

"If and when Hermione returns to Hogwarts and I'm sure you'll be among the very first people to know when that happens, I was hoping that you might be willing to pass along an important message for me," Cedric said, his voice carrying a tone of earnest sincerity.

Meeting Harry's somewhat surprised and questioning gaze with his own steady, honest eyes, Cedric glanced quickly around the training room to ensure that no one else was close enough to overhear their conversation.

Satisfied that they had sufficient privacy, he allowed his lips to move rapidly.

"Please tell Hermione that I want to speak with her as soon as possible after her return," Cedric whispered with intense urgency. "I want to repay her for the help she provided me before the first task of the tournament. Time is running short now, and I'm afraid that if we wait much longer, we'll miss this opportunity."

After saying this, Cedric smiled at the still-somewhat-dazed Harry, then quickly walked away.

Harry's gaze followed Cedric until he returned to Cho Chang's side, at which point Harry averted his eyes as if shocked. It was then that Neville, seeing Cedric had left, hesitantly approached Harry.

"He was asking me about when Hermione might be able to return to Hogwarts," Harry explained in response to Neville's unspoken but obvious question but he didn't tell Neville about Cedric asking him to pass along a message.

'Hermione had helped Cedric before the first task?' Harry frowned thinking about this.

However, even as these thoughts spun through his mind, Harry couldn't help but think that Cedric was destined to waste his effort and good intentions, regardless of whatever debt of gratitude he felt he owed to Hermione.

The reason for this pessimistic assessment was due to Harry's knowledge of Hermione's psychological state and her current mindset regarding the tournament.

Because of the mix-up accident that had occurred during the first task—she had become particularly sensitive to any mention of the word "help". She hoped to pass the second trial relying entirely on her own abilities, without accepting any form of aid, advice, or support from others.

Given this mindset, Harry was certain that Hermione would never willingly accept Cedric's offered "repayment," regardless of how well-intentioned it might be. This was especially true considering that Hermione already had a clear understanding of what challenges they would face in the upcoming second trial.

"Should we continue with our practice session, Neville?" Harry asked, pushing these complex thoughts about Cedric and Hermione from his mind as he refocused his attention.

"I honestly don't know if I should keep practicing at this point—" Neville replied, his voice tinging with frustration and self-doubt as he looked down at his own hands with an expression of deep disappointment and growing despair.

Neville's face, which had become noticeably thinner and sharper over the months of intensive physical training, now had a more mature and capable appearance than it had at the beginning of the school year.

However, despite these physical improvements and the obvious dedication he had shown to the training sessions, his expression currently displayed a troubling mixture of distress and hopelessness that seemed to emanate from his heart.

"I can never seem to get these spells right, no matter how hard I try or how many hours I spend practicing," Neville continued with emotion. "At this rate, I'm not just worried about failing physical education class—I'm genuinely concerned that I might end up getting expelled from Hogwarts."

"Don't talk such nonsense, Neville," Harry responded immediately. "Hogwarts would never expel a student simply because they couldn't cast the Disarming Charm smoothly or perform every spell perfectly on the first few attempts. If that were the case, half the school would have been sent home years ago!"

Harry gestured toward the Slytherin section of the training room, where two particularly dim-witted students were struggling.

"Just look at those two complete idiots Crabbe and Goyle over there—they still can't make feathers float properly with the basic Levitation Charm, and that's a spell that most first-years master within their first month at Hogwarts!"

"Yeah, I suppose you have a point," Neville accepted reluctantly, rubbing his somewhat sore and aching wrist while hanging his head in a gesture of dejection. "I'm probably only slightly better than those two, but what's the use? I'm still dragging down our team's performance and progress. Professor Watson has made it clear that he won't allow anyone to keep falling behind in practice indefinitely."

Harry had to admit, though only to himself, that Neville's assessment of his situation was indeed quite accurate and frustratingly difficult to dispute.

His efforts in class were absolutely obvious for everyone to see—he worked harder than almost anyone else, stayed after sessions to practice additional drills, and did every exercise with determination and commitment.

However, despite all of this admirable dedication and effort, the actual results of his practice sessions were consistently disappointing and fell far short of the standards that Professor Watson had established for the class.

'If only Hermione were present in the training room with us,' Harry found himself thinking regretfully.

Whether the situation called for sharing practical experience and technical knowledge, or providing emotional encouragement and psychological support to others, she was much better at it than he was.

Looking at the thoroughly dejected and discouraged Neville, who seemed to shrink into himself with each passing moment of self-doubt, Harry released a soft sigh.

No matter what, Harry knew that he couldn't simply give up on his friend and teammate. The principle of completely trusting your teammates was the very first requirement that Professor Watson had established when he had asked them to form practice teams at the beginning.

Harry pressed his lips together in an expression of determination and resolve, gathering his thoughts and preparing to give some additional words of encouragement and support to help lift Neville's spirits, when the door to the physical education classroom was suddenly pushed open.

The unexpected interruption caused every head in the room to turn toward the entrance, and Professor McGonagall appeared in everyone's line of sight.

The classroom, which had been clanging and sparking just moments before, instantly fell silent. Everyone, including Harry and Neville, looked in astonishment at Professor McGonagall, who appeared somewhat anxious.

'What was happening?'

Harry wondered to himself.

Since the PE class had begun, no professor had ever burst in during a session. 'Was there some emergency?'

"Oh! Longbottom, you're here!" Professor McGonagall pushed the door fully open, and her words focused everyone's attention on Neville.

"Come with me immediately, Longbottom, Professor Dumbledore is waiting for you in his office!"

In just one second, Neville's face turned deathly pale, and his body began to sway.

'Was Hogwarts really going to expel Neville because they thought magical abilities weren't sufficient to meet the school's standards?'

For that second, even Harry's mind was filled with this thought.

"I beg you—please don't my grandmother—expulsion—" Neville stammered desperately, his words tumbling over each other in a barely coherent sentence of panic and terror.

"What in the world are you talking about, Mr. Longbottom?" Professor McGonagall asked, her stern face creasing into a frown of genuine confusion and concern as she tried to make sense of the young man's incoherent babbling.

"Professor!" Harry stepped forward boldly, his voice ringing out across the silent training room with all the determination he could muster. "Hogwarts cannot expel Neville—he's not the worst student in our year!"

Snicker—

The mocking laughter from behind made Harry glare angrily at Draco, but that was all. Draco only glanced sideways at Harry and Neville and did not make any sarcastic comments.

"Oh, expulsion?" Professor McGonagall repeated, raising one eyebrow.

"No one is going to expel Mr. Longbottom from Hogwarts, Potter, now come along quickly, Mr. Longbottom. Professor Dumbledore wants you get to his office as soon as possible—he's planning to take you personally to St. Mungo's Hospital."

"St. Mungo's?" Harry exclaimed, his voice cracking with surprise and a sense of alarm. "Why in the world is Professor Dumbledore taking Neville to St. Mungo's Hospital? Unless—oh, wait—"

His voice trailed off as his mind began to race through various possibilities, none of which seemed to give him any comfort or reassurance.

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together in a thin line that clearly indicated she either didn't know the specific details of the situation herself, or that she had been instructed not to reveal them to curious students.

Harry looked questioningly at Neville, hoping for some sort of explanation into what might be happening, but—

Neville looked even more desperate than when he had mistakenly thought he was being expelled. His lips were trembling, his face was as white as a waterlogged corpse, yet his eyes were completely red and bloodshot.

"What's really going on here—" Harry began to ask, his voice filled with concern and confusion.

BANG—

Before Harry could finish his question, Neville had already exploded into motion like a Mad Lion.

He charged forward with such desperation that he nearly knocked Professor McGonagall completely off her feet as he barreled past her and within the span of just a few seconds, he had completely disappeared from view, leaving behind only the echo of his agitated footsteps and a room full of stunned, bewildered students who had no idea what they had just witnessed.

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