Chapter 52: Third Group Selection

The next day, Harry found life unchanged, but upon closer thought, he realized this situation was strangely odd for Neville and Hermione. In ordinary days, they always sat together during meals and classes, yet rarely spoke of anything beyond studies. What made him even more uncomfortable was that Hannah would come over and sit on Neville’s other side, and at the table, Hannah was almost the only one talking.

Harry and Ron discussed the situation; Ron said Hermione must have overheard their gossip yesterday, which was why she continued to stay by Neville’s side. Harry felt even more uneasy because of this suspicion—Hermione had probably let go, but not completely, or perhaps her heart had died, then somehow come back to life.

But for Harry, newly joined to the team, whether it was Neville’s quest for revenge or Hermione’s girlish thoughts, neither concerned him much. His main fantasy now was to shine on the team, and occasionally, he wondered what his relationship with Zhang Qiu really was.

On Saturday during training, Wood arranged a practice match against Hufflepuff. When Harry learned that Hufflepuff’s Seeker was Cedric, he felt a flicker of wariness toward the older student—he’d heard Cedric was “the perfect Hogwarts student,” and at the time, he’d thought that meant someone formidable.

After the match, he found Cedric wasn’t nearly as impressive as imagined. He even boasted to Ron: “Cedric’s a Seeker with no real flaws—and no real strengths either.”

After training, they visited Hagrid. Zhang Qiu spotted an ominous black dog near the Forbidden Forest again and questioned Hagrid at length, but gained nothing. On the way back, she muttered unhappily that the Forbidden Forest “clashed” with her. Harry didn’t understand the term; Zhang Qiu explained at length that “clashed” meant whenever anything involved the Forbidden Forest, she always suffered bad luck.

To comfort her, Harry swore earnestly: “Last term, when we went into the Forbidden Forest, we didn’t encounter any danger. Don’t worry—this term we won’t go near it. That black dog won’t affect you at all.”

Hearing this, her expression grew even more gloomy.

For a moment, Harry genuinely wanted to make her happy. He decided that once he finished his homework, he’d dive back into Potions and strive to brew Felix Felicis as soon as possible.

But after finishing his homework, Ron and Neville suggested he practice hand-to-hand combat. Harry considered it: eventually, he’d have to fight Voldemort; potions might not help as much as combat skills. So he spent the entire weekend drilling techniques with the two.

Ron’s combat training under Donald had focused mainly on fist techniques—some boxing elements, perhaps—but due to the weight of knight armor, or maybe because Donald himself wasn’t skilled, he rarely used leg techniques beyond basic kicks and sweeps, and even those were minimal. Harry’s combat skills came from childhood tutors, emphasizing practicality—he instinctively targeted vital points. Without protective spells, he barely dared spar with the other two.

Neville’s combat skills, however, were highly refined. Though Harry couldn’t identify his style, he clearly sensed the gap between their abilities. Neville himself said his tutor from Yingzhou had begun training him at age six—he’d been beaten nearly every day, and that’s how he’d developed such skill.

Neville’s story made Harry realize Donald’s teaching might not be baseless. In wizard duels, spells decide victory, but physical fitness and combat technique are surely vital factors—especially when magical skill is evenly matched.

Notably, when they sparred on the lawn, Hannah and Hermione came to watch; Zhang Qiu was in the library absorbed in her own studies. Fortunately, Harry and Ron were clearly losing against Neville—if Hannah’s expression was any indication, Harry feared she’d storm over to confront him.

Perhaps because of Sunday’s sparring, Harry woke Monday with a dull ache in his knees. Neville, experienced in such matters, applied ointment to the back of Harry’s thighs and muttered several healing charms. Harry’s leg pain vanished, but they missed breakfast’s best window—by the time they reached the Great Hall, little remained on the tables.

Hannah and Hermione had saved food for Neville, but what they saved differed. Neville stared awkwardly at the plates offered, glancing helplessly at Ron.

Ron thought for a moment—he still favored Hannah. He feigned cheerfulness: “I was just craving jam toast, Hermione. Could you give me yours? Neville couldn’t finish two portions anyway.”

“That won’t do.” Donald appeared behind them, holding a tray. “Knights must eat high-protein foods to build muscle. Ron, I saved you salted fish and egg and bacon—eat up.”

Hannah had saved Neville exactly the same: oatmeal and egg and bacon. She beamed as she pressed the plate into his hands. “Professor said the same thing—Neville, eat these.”

Hermione casually shoved the jam toast into Harry’s hand. “I’m off to class,” she said, hurrying away. Harry instinctively glanced at Ravenclaw’s table—no sign of Zhang Qiu. He bit into the sweet bread, muttering to himself: “Besides, I don’t want to grow muscles anyway.”

That week’s Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, Donald taught a few small techniques and paired students for practice. He never mentioned the Dueling Club. Harry himself had lost interest in it—he figured he could train with Neville on weekends; there was no need to waste evening hours on formal combat lessons.

That night, as Ron attended another small-group session, Harry brought his homework to the library. Zhang Qiu sat at her usual spot. Harry wanted to ask about breakfast, but then thought: no one required her to wait for him. Besides, for Zhang Qiu—who occasionally mentioned fasting—skipping breakfast might not even matter.

He set the matter aside. They exchanged greetings and began working together.

"Hey, Harry!" a bright female voice called out. Harry looked up—it was Ivy. He felt strange: since school started three weeks ago, someone always interrupted him in the library every Monday.

“Uh… hello, Harry.” Ginny joined Ivy beside her.

“Hello.” Since both were fellow Ravenclaw juniors, Harry wasn’t annoyed—but neither was he welcoming.

“Autumn-sister is here too.” Ivy said. “You look better in Hanfu.”

“You’ve seen it?” Zhang Qiu blinked in surprise, then seemed to recall something and apologized: “Sorry, I must not have noticed.”

Harry’s instinct told him this exchange felt off. But his reason told him to stay out of it. He changed the subject: “Oh, Ginny, this is my friend Zhang Qiu. Zhang, this is Ginny—Ron’s sister.”

Ginny replied stiffly: “Friend? Well, I suppose—you sit together doing homework. I noticed.”

Zhang Qiu replied coolly: “Weasley? Right—you’ve got red hair and are cute. I figured it out.”

Harry understood passive-aggression. He sensed Zhang Qiu was unusually off today. He quickly defused it: “Haha, Ginny, Ivy—getting along well? Did you come to ask about homework trouble?”

“We’re getting along just fine,” Ginny said, suddenly confident. “After all, we have a common enemy.”

“And can’t we just come to see you without a reason?” Ivy added.

“Common enemy?” Harry’s expression darkened. His first thought: someone had told the girls about Voldemort. “Who said that?”

“Mr. Tom.” Ginny pulled out a notebook. Harry recognized it instantly—it was the diary again.

“Mr. Tom told us we should care more about our friends,” Ginny said. “I heard from Ron—you almost didn’t get breakfast.”

When had she approached Ron? Why had Ron told her such a trivial thing? Harry was utterly confused.

“You can rest easy—he ate dinner,” Zhang Qiu interjected. “But you came here to recommend this notebook, didn’t you?”

“Uh…” Ginny fell silent, clearly caught.

“Exactly,” Ivy smiled faintly. “Notebooks must be shared by two people. Since Ron isn’t here, we’ll hold off recommending it for now.”

Ron? Hadn’t Ginny already approached Ron? Hadn’t she mentioned the notebook then? But Ron had mostly been with Harry… Harry’s head spun.

“Wait.” Zhang Qiu frowned. “So you two are currently sharing the notebook?”

“Yes,” Ivy said confidently. “You and Ginny are a pair, so Harry should be paired with Ron—that’s proper.”

“Do you know who used the notebook before?” Zhang Qiu asked.

“Of course—Cui Ge and Luna, and Draco and Pan Xi. Pan Xi said Cui Ge recommended it to us.”

Harry and Zhang Qiu exchanged glances. If their earlier assumption was correct, the choice of two girls as the third pair struck them both as deeply strange.