Every time the Magic Spell Study Group ended, Vid was always the last to leave.
Some people liked to save their questions until the end of the meeting; others had done their homework beforehand and discussed the application of spells with him. There were also those who seemed to stay just to build connections, saying meaningless small talk.
As a result, the activity time unknowingly extended by over half an hour. On the way back to the common room, Vid felt completely exhausted.
But for him, this study group was not solely about offering help and giving.
In the process of teaching others, Vid felt like he was reassembling his knowledge, gaining more profound understanding of spells, and becoming clearer in his own thoughts.
Moreover, even if others weren't as skilled as Vid, their thoughts and views could still offer him some inspiration, expanding his understanding, and the more he analyzed, the simpler the knowledge seemed to become.
Vid walked along, mentally organizing today's gains. At this time the castle was exceptionally quiet, with only his own footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.
"Once proud head high, now shivering in the corner, toothless snake, feared by no one... lala lala lala... feared by no one..."
From across the floors, Peeves' singing was faintly audible, his rough voice sounding somewhat noisy, like some kind of bizarre background music.
Suddenly, Vid felt a chill. A ghost with vacant eyes and silver bloodstains on its robe emerged through the wall, glanced at Vid, said nothing, then sank through the floor and disappeared.
Soon after, Vid heard Peeves' scream... the sound receding into the distance...
The singing vanished.
When the surrounding was completely silent, a faint sound became clear.
At first, Vid thought it was the pipes rattling or Moaning Myrtle weeping somewhere over a toilet. But after listening carefully for a moment, he found it was an extremely repressed yet audible sobbing.
It was a boy's voice, somewhat familiar.
Vid quietly stood in the corridor, perhaps the quiet environment made the person relax, he was overwhelmed with grief, weeping bitterly, interspersed with heavy breathing and the sound of wiping his nose.
"Damn... damn... damn!"
The faucet was turned on, water gushed loudly, Malfoy washed his face with cold water, then choked on the water, coughing violently.
Vid didn't continue to watch others' fragility and pain, he just lightened his steps, changed direction, and quickly left.
...
Soon it was October 30th morning, the entire castle had been refreshed, even the hidden portraits in the corners had been cleaned.
Passing through the entrance hall in the morning, Vid heard Griffiths complaining loudly: "The dust on my clothes is antique! You little creatures, be polite to me!"
But the Cleaning Crabs ignored him, clattering over Griffiths' face, transparent bubbles constantly emerging from their behinds, leaving the portrait spotless after the crabs passed.
Only Griffiths was unhappy, unusually not lecturing students in the entrance hall but gloomily turning his back, leaving only his silhouette for people to see.
Then the little crabs clattered back, cleaning his back again.
"You little brat who doesn't know rules, clean your dirty shoes!"
Filch's roar sounded, scaring two first-year students to flee in haste.
The upcoming event made the caretaker extremely tense, his cloudy yellow eyes like searchlights, focusing on every student passing by, occasionally emitting angry shouts—
"Wipe the mud off your clothes! Every student must remain absolutely clean!"
"Slobs, look at these footprints! Your parents should be ashamed of you!"
"No eating in the corridors! Don't spill breadcrumbs on the floor!"
"Terrible, that guy!" Michael was scolded because of a speck of dust on his hem, sitting next to Vid with a dazed expression after being reprimanded.
"If anyone throws a Dungbomb in the corridor right now, I wouldn't doubt Filch would lift one of the corridor statues and smash that person to death!"
"Though his methods are somewhat extreme, they are for maintaining the school's honor," a gentle voice whispered from behind.
"Oh, that sentiment sounds like Hermione, but those being scolded can hardly remain as calm as you two." Michael's mouth twitched, he turned back, showing a cute smile, using a pretend girly voice: "Good morning, Professor Flitwick."
"Morning!" Professor Flitwick, not even standing as tall as Michael sitting, said cheerfully: "I hope there's not really a Dungbomb hidden in your dormitory, Michael."
"Of course... of course not." Michael lowered his head sincerely, "I was just kidding, but you know, Professor—I've never done such foolish things."
Two passing Gryffindors rolled their eyes at Michael.
"Excellent," Professor Flitwick said, "You have some dirt on your elbow, did you know?"
He pointed, and as Michael looked down to check, Professor Flitwick nodded to Vid, heading to the staff table.
Vid casually cast a Scouring Charm, looking oddly at Michael: "Where did you get all that dirt so early in the morning?"
Their clothes were put in the dirty laundry basket before bed every night, the House-Elves would clean them, and every morning there was always a clean, freshly ironed outfit by the bed.
Of course, some boys would randomly toss their clothes around, or shove smelly socks under the bed, in the trunk; in these cases, the House-Elves wouldn't move them randomly, but Vid knew Michael wasn't one who neglected hygiene.
Hearing this, Michael blinked, showing a mysterious smile: "You're not the only one who gets up early, Vid. But the morning Black Lake is indeed mesmerizing."
Vid understood: "You found a new girlfriend again?"
Michael's mouth lazy curved, with some satisfied pride, he drawled: "Hmm... how should I put it?"
Suddenly, he got bumped from behind, almost falling headfirst onto the cake in front of him. Furious, Michael stood up, turning to see Padma and several girls laughing and chatting as they walked past, without even glancing at him.
He suddenly felt sheepish, wiped the cream off his nose with his hand, and sat back down sullenly.
"Let's go, it's time for class," Vid said, slinging his bag as he stood up.
Michael pushed away the cake and followed out, soon the door echoed with Filch's hoarse yelling again:
"You! Yes, you! What's on your face? Cream! And it's all over! Clean it up immediately, or I'll make you brush the armor with a toothbrush! I'll do as I say!"