Hogwarts: Even Voldemort Can't Stop Me From Studying

[The representatives of each Magic School will arrive at six o’clock in the evening on Friday, October 30th. The afternoon classes will end half an hour early...]

The large notice was posted in the entrance hall, visible to everyone coming and going, and the students who wanted to participate in the tournament became anxious.

”There’s only one week left!” Marcus Belby from Ravenclaw said anxiously, ”But I still haven’t mastered the Stunning Spell... It would be great if the Magic Spell Study Group had activities every day.”

”Are you planning to enter the tournament too?” his friend Ford said with a laugh, ”Do you really think you can be chosen as a Champion? The really skilled people are the ones teaching you!”

He lifted his chin as a signal, and Belby turned to see Vid and some friends walking over from the greenhouse.

Belby looked at his friend and said seriously, ”Who knows what the criteria for selecting the Champions are? Considering the dangers of the tournament, I think age will be a barrier, and the school will prioritize adults entering the competition.”

Ford nodded as if it was a serious matter: ”Indeed... if minors die in the tournament, the Ministry of Magic wouldn’t be able to explain it.”

Belby didn’t pick up on the teasing in his tone and continued, ”Plus, we don’t even know what events we need to compete in, right? In the past, we’ve had to solve puzzles, find things, identify traps, show memory, judgment, and leadership skills... Even though Gray is excellent, he can’t be the best at everything; we might still have a chance.”

”Well... you might not be completely without a chance...” Ford scratched his head and said, ”So, good luck to you.”

Nowadays, the number of students like Belby, who firmly believe they have significant advantages in certain areas and still hope to become a Hogwarts Champion, is not very large.

Many students still talk about the tournament every day, but it’s more from a spectator’s viewpoint.

After nearly two months of studying and training, most students, like Ford, now realize the gap between themselves and certain others, and have given up the fantasy of being selected as Champions.

However, the number of participants in the Magic Spell Study Group hasn’t decreased; in fact, it’s been increasing.

During the twice-weekly tutoring sessions, the students feel that the previously obscure concepts become clear, with each success building their self-trust and satisfaction. That deep sense of achievement is so joyful, it’s even more addicting than games.

Intelligent beings instinctively crave to ”become stronger,” to control more power, and to see tangible results from their efforts.

It’s just that, most of the time, learning is too hard for everyone and not seeing progress for a long time is a torturous ordeal, so they gradually give up, pretending not to care, and then being captured by some low-level pleasures.

Yet, in the Magic Spell Study Group, students often experience that breakthrough moment and clarity, where they feel light and full, wanting to immerse themselves in it.

As such, some students who hadn’t intended to join started to quietly enter the activity room on time.

This also includes quite a few from Slytherin, like Draco Malfoy.

When Harry saw his ”archenemy” appear in the activity room, his eyes widened, and Ron, Dean, and Seamus from Gryffindor had mocking expressions, wanting to go over and ridicule him.

But Hermione sternly stopped them.

”Have you guys forgotten the rules of the Magic Spell Study Group?” said the brown-haired girl, arms crossed. ”There’s no grade division, no house division here. Everyone is treated equally, and anyone can come!”

”Hey, Hermione, who do you think we’re doing this for?” Ron shouted unhappily. ”Have you forgotten how that guy insulted you... and insulted us too?”

”Of course, I haven’t forgotten!” Hermione said unequivocally. ”So I’m stopping you, not for him, but for you! Do you want to break the rules and be kicked out of the Magic Spell Study Group?”

Ron and others: ”...”

They glanced at the podium and saw Vid quietly observing them, with no indication of allowing them to cause trouble for Malfoy.

Dean mumbled quietly, ”Ravenclaws really are... standing up for a friend is the right thing to do, isn’t it?”

Ron said nothing, but he thought the same thing—sometimes you just have to be flexible with the rules.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and stared down Dean, saying sternly, ”Malfoy bullies others, and we all know he’s despicable and shallow. If we go bully others, do you think that behavior would be correct?”

Dean: ”...” Isn’t it correct? It’s Malfoy!

”Alright, there will be plenty of chances to beat up Malfoy later, but don’t cause trouble here.” Harry came over and nudged Ron and the others aside, saying, ”Don’t forget what we’re here for.”

With a pale face, Malfoy stood in the corner, expressionless, staring ahead, as if utterly unaware that, just a few meters away, the Gryffindors had argued because of him.

That once arrogant face now looked terribly haggard, with dark circles under his eyes, showing that his condition was visibly poor.

Once the tutoring began, Vid didn’t give him special treatment. He neither targeted nor cared for him, maintaining an ordinary attitude, as if standing there was just a random passerby.

Before coming to the activity room, Malfoy was prepared to fight, and had anticipated being mocked by Vid, Harry, and the others. He secretly gritted his teeth, thinking he could endure it.

But it was only when Vid casually instructed a few words and walked past him that he realized—the hardest thing to endure was not the disgust and hostility, but the feeling of not being noticed at all.

The nine o’clock bell rang, and Vid clapped his hands, announcing that today’s Magic Spell Study Group session was over.

At those words, Malfoy was the first to yank the door open and rush out. He hurried to the bathroom, closed the door, leaned against the wall, trying to suppress the stifling discomfort in his chest.

After a long while, he came out of the stall, his hands resting on the washbasin, staring into the mirror.

”Ha, did you see how he looked?” a boy laughed loudly. ”If it weren’t for his dad’s money, who would pay him any attention?”

”Lucius Malfoy still hasn’t been found?” another student asked.

”No, my uncle works at the Ministry of Magic, and he said Mrs. Malfoy has contacted a lot of people, but there’s no trace! I think he must be dead!”

”Then Draco would inherit a lot of heritage, wouldn’t he?”

”What good is inheriting heritage? Does he have the ability to keep it?”

”I heard the Ministry of Magic plans to investigate the connection between Lucius Malfoy and the camp attack. If it turns out he was involved, their family’s vault might be seized.” someone said gruffly.

”Then our ’Young Master Malfoy’ will have nothing... hahaha...”

The malicious laughter echoed in the corridor, slowly fading away. Malfoy felt a twist in his stomach, his throat tightening, a chill seeping into his bones.

He recognized the voices... they weren’t his enemies from Gryffindor; they were all Slytherins.

But he didn’t even have the courage to burst out of the washroom to confront them and expose those guys’ hypocrisy and disgusting nature.

At this moment, he realized with absolute clarity that he was no longer the ”Young Master Malfoy” who could do whatever he wanted under his father’s protection.