Chapter 103: Undercurrents
"Very well, Weasley—" Malfoy shot an unwilling glare at Russell. He was just about to hurl a parting threat when Percy cut him off sharply.
"Use the proper title here," Percy said sternly.
"Fine," Malfoy ground out through clenched teeth. "Weasley… Prefect."
He spat out the word as if it tasted foul. "Let's go."
"Thanks, Percy," Russell said, slipping his wand away. Truth be told, if Percy hadn't intervened, Russell would have had no problem taking the opportunity to teach Malfoy a lesson—but the term hadn't even begun yet. There was no need to rush.
"Be careful, Russell," Percy lowered his voice as he spoke. "I've heard that what happened with the House Cup last term really upset a lot of Slytherins. Keep your guard up."
Russell froze for a moment, then nodded seriously.
"Thanks for the warning."
He genuinely hadn't considered that angle.
Were Slytherins really that vindictive?
And besides—if anyone was truly at fault, it was Corvey and the others. If they hadn't harbored ill intentions, none of that would have happened in the first place. Dumbledore wouldn't have awarded him those points either.
By all logic, their resentment should be directed at Corvey—or at Dumbledore himself. What reason did they have to blame him?
But then again, when someone wants to accuse you, they'll always find an excuse. In the end, it was simply because he stood alone—and looked easy to target.
Russell's fingers brushed lightly over his wand.
If they dared come for him, he would make sure they paid dearly for it.
At this moment, his confidence was absolute.
This summer, Russell's progress had been remarkable. Not only had both his magical power and physical conditioning improved significantly, but—most importantly—he had mastered the Shield Charm.
He couldn't help wondering: among the current crop of Hogwarts students, how many could actually break through his Shield Charm?
His only regret was the lack of a truly powerful offensive spell. The Knockback Jinx was already starting to lag behind the pace of his growth.
Snape's Sectumsempra seemed perfect—stylish, lethal, and discreet—but that was nothing more than wishful thinking for now.
As for spells like the Blasting Curse, their casting difficulty was high, they were prone to going out of control, and their area of effect was far too large. They simply didn't suit Russell's needs.
"Thanks for helping me out just now," Longbottom said softly as he walked up beside Russell.
Russell nearly chuckled. Easy to forget—this was the future Gryffindor Sword Saint, a seedling of tremendous potential.
And if one day he truly became the King of Avalon, how could he lack loyal knight-guardians at his side?
If Morgan ever heard that thought, she'd probably explode in rage—I'm not dead yet, and you're already fantasizing?
Of course, it was nothing more than Russell's idle dream. The real reason he'd helped Longbottom was far simpler: he didn't want a hero's son to bleed and cry at the same time.
"Don't mention it," Russell said, handing him a small chocolate bear.
It was a Soviet imitation of Chocolate Frogs—cool, mint-flavored, and surprisingly decent.
Russell never quite understood why they'd make something like this in such a cold place. No wonder it never sold well.
Later he learned it was meant to differentiate itself from Chocolate Frogs. Frankly, it was a baffling business decision.
Chocolate Frogs warmed the body—perfect for the Soviet climate. These minty bears should've been sold in Africa to help people cool down.
Though how much purchasing power African wizards had was anyone's guess.
"Is your trunk stuck?" Russell asked.
Longbottom's trunk was still wedged in place. Russell frowned, stepped forward, and tried lifting it—yet even with his now above-average physical strength, he couldn't budge it.
"No wonder," Russell said, tapping it with his wand. "Someone's cast a Weight-Increasing Charm on it."
He didn't know how to dispel it properly, so he simply countered it.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
By offsetting the weight with a levitation charm, the trunk immediately became manageable.
Longbottom lifted it with ease.
"Goodbye, Longbottom," Russell said, patting his shoulder. "Hold on to that courage you showed when you punched Malfoy. I'm sure you'll make it into the House you want."
After giving Neville a much-needed confidence boost, Russell grabbed his own trunk and boarded the train, starting his search for Wednesday.
He got lucky. After opening three empty compartments, he finally spotted her in the fourth—leaning by the window, face buried in a thick book.
Perhaps it was Wednesday's aloof aura that kept other students away.
"What are you reading?" Russell asked casually after stowing his luggage.
"Love, Death & Robots," Wednesday replied, peeking out from behind the book. "It's about robots searching for the meaning of true death."
"Sounds interesting," Russell said, sitting beside her.
He had just pulled out a bag of chips when the door was shoved open.
"Hey, Russell! Wednesday! So this is where you were," Fred said cheerfully, grabbing a handful of chips without hesitation.
Russell simply handed him the whole bag—he had plenty more.
"Thanks, mate," George said, pulling a box of fireworks from his pocket and placing it on the table.
"New summer prototype—Effortless Fireworks. Best not to use them in crowded areas."
Russell accepted them without fuss, planning to test them out with Wednesday later.
"So who did you run into?" he asked. "Don't tell me—it was Harry Potter?"
"Merlin's bandages—how did you know?" George stared at him in horror.
"Have you been spying on us?" Fred added dramatically.
"There aren't many people who'd make you seek me out just to talk," Russell said with a helpless smile.
"You're right—we met Harry Potter," George said. "But honestly, just looking at him, you'd never guess he was the Boy Who Lived. He's more like—"
"—the boy next door?" Russell finished with a grin. "We met him back in Diagon Alley."
"Fair enough," George said. "But to be precise—an ordinary boy next door."
"Cedric's a boy-next-door type too," Fred added sourly, "and he gives off a completely different vibe."
"Oh?" a voice said from the doorway. "Talking about me behind my back?"
The door slid open again. Cedric Diggory stood there smiling warmly, with Cho Chang just behind him, wearing the same gentle smile.
"Hi," Cho waved.
"Oh, Merlin above," George clutched his face. "What happened to you? You've betrayed us."
"There's a tragic, impenetrable wall between us now," Fred lamented solemnly.