The school clinic was still crowded late at night.

Madam Pomfrey had just changed the ointment for the last little wizard, holding a lamp. She watched them fall asleep or pretend to fall asleep one by one, and she held up her wand, intending to go back to rest.

She can only get some rest during the period from early morning to noon every day.

Just walked out of the patient area.

The door was pushed open.

Madam Pomfrey's heart tightened. It was curfew and everything was quiet. Normally no one would come, but if someone came, it would be a big deal.

Her head tightened.

Thinking about those things in second grade.

Several people walked in.

Pomfrey extended his wand over, and the fluorescent charm illuminated the newcomer, which made her feel relieved. It was not the professor, but Harry and the others: "Harry, what's wrong with you?"

Then she saw Neville flying in from the door. The breath she had just let out came out of her throat in a rush, and her face turned slightly purple. "What's going on, Longbottom? Another dark wizard broke into the castle?"

"Have you informed the professor?"

As she spoke, she was about to wave her wand and summon her patronus.

"Not a dark wizard, he might just be a little exhausted." Harry said, "Which bed?"

"Were they not attacked?" Madam Pomfrey looked at Neville with doubt in her eyes. "Really?"

"This way."

“There are few people here.”

She drew aside the door curtain and lit the oil lamp there.

The voice was just like the look in her eyes, full of doubt. Neville looked so miserable, with wounds all over his body, big and small. His robes were torn into pieces, and many parts were reduced to ashes. Even the repair spell could not repair it.

Harry looked better, but there were some irreparable tears in his robes.

Ron and Hermione looked like they had had a tough fight too.

After Harry put Neville on the bed, Madam Pomfrey waved her wand and carefully checked: "It looks serious, but it's just superficial injuries."

"I'm so tired, you're still training so late?"

Harry nodded, "Some practical training."

"Actual combat?" Madam Pomfrey subconsciously shook her head and sighed, wanting to refute the statements of these fifth-year wizards. How could the professors and the Order of the Phoenix let the young wizards face those vicious Death Eaters?

But the words were stuck in my throat and I couldn't spit them out.

Hermione and Ron, of course, they would be well protected.

But Harry...

This was not the first time Harry had faced a Death Eater.

As for Neville, he will also take the initiative to come to the door. When a child avenges his parents, no one can stop him, no matter if they are enemies or comrades.

Thinking of this, she sighed again: "There is no need to be like this..."

mean?

She subconsciously wanted to use this word.

It's not appropriate.

"It's good to be tough on him." Harry spoke up as she was thinking of a new word, "The more he suffers at my hands, the better chance he has of surviving when he can kill Crouch when he faces him later."

"Are you really going to let Longbottom deal with that guy?" Madam Pomfrey looked at him.

Barty Crouch Jr. is very young, but he is very cruel.

To become one of the most trusted people of the mysterious man, one must not only be cruel in mentality, but also be very useful - Little Batty cannot influence Old Batty, and the only capital that makes him favored by the mysterious man is his talent and his magical power.

In Madam Pomfrey's impression, Neville was not a very talented little wizard. Not to mention compared with Barty Crouch Jr., he was even worse than Ron Weasley.

"He's determined." Harry nodded. "He's trying to prepare."

"No one can tell what the future holds."

"But he chose that future himself, which is a natural thing, and no one has the right to stop him."

Madam Pomfrey said nothing and continued to check for any hidden injuries.

Ron tiptoed outside and came back with excitement on his face: "All the people lying inside are Slytherins, what's going on?"

I am the class leader!

I haven't heard of a fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin recently, and they won so completely.

Of course, there has been no news of any conflict between Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff and Slytherin. If there were, Gryffindor would definitely not miss the opportunity to join in the fun.

"Mr. Weasley, patients should rest well and not walk around and disturb others' rest!" Madam Pomfrey glanced at him dissatisfiedly, paused for a moment, lowered her voice, and explained in a low voice, "Last night, the Slytherins fought again."

“It’s been like this since last year, but it’s become more frequent this year.”

"Their prefect, Mr. Malfoy, used your two brothers' props to beat up a group of people."

At this point, she paused again and lowered her voice even more: "Of course, he was also severely retaliated against. He was lying in there. Dean Snape was very angry. Such a big conflict broke out between the prefects and the students. My God, I haven't seen it for a long time."

"Malfoy is in there too?" Ron straightened up, his nostrils flared, trying to make a compassionate and pitiful expression, but he couldn't help but raise the corners of his mouth, and joy overflowed from the entire lower half of his face.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, "He was hurt the most."

"And we need to separate him from those Slytherins. They are getting more and more outrageous. They even dare to attack the prefects."

Ron was fidgeting; he really wanted to meet Malfoy.

Look how miserable he is now.

But Madam Pomfrey waved her wand, and the curtains were drawn around them, locking them in here: "You all have to rest here, and you are not allowed to go anywhere."

"If you're injured, you should look injured. You're still alive and kicking."

She waved her wand again.

Except for Harry, the stools under Ron and Hermione's buttocks were twisted and deformed, rough matchstick figures, carried them to the bed, took off their shoes and covered them with quilts.

"Mr. Potter." Madam Pomfrey looked at Harry.

Harry sighed and laid down in the bed next to Hermione.

Madam Pomfrey nodded in satisfaction.

But they had just fallen asleep.

A huge quarrel suddenly broke out from outside.

Neville subconsciously grabbed his wand, Harry turned over, snapped his fingers, put Quinn on himself, put an armor spell on Hermione, and then cast a universal protection to protect the curtain where they were.

There were loud crashes, curses, and incantations.

Harry sensed something more specific.

Curse, minor curse.

Two fifth-year students from Slytherin House who wanted to launch a sneak attack on Malfoy.

But it didn't have much effect. Malfoy seemed to be used to being ambushed. Even though he was hit by the evil curse, he still resisted at the first opportunity.

A few minutes later.

Madam Pomfrey's irritable voice rang out: "What are you doing!"

She took action and used a Transfiguration spell to tie up the three little wizards.

"Night roaming! Sneak attack on the prefect, who is a patient!"

"Fifty points off Slytherin!"

"Get back here and find Mr. Filch yourself. You'll be detained for a month!"

Behind the curtain.

Harry could sense that Madam Pomfrey, after yelling and scolding, lifted the spell and was about to drive away the two Slytherins who had sneaked in late at night.

"Skull expansion!"

Malfoy's low growl and a cold breath of magic suddenly burst out.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Pomfrey's voice became even more angry. "How dare you! How dare you use such a curse on your classmates!"

"Another fifty points deduction for Slytherin!"

"When you recover from your injury, go find Mr. Filch and put him in detention for a month!"

Malfoy said nothing, his breath was very calm.

Instead, the two people who launched the sneak attack became confused and frightened.

"Malfoy is really ruthless," Ron muttered.

The Skull Swelling Curse, as the name suggests, is a spell that causes the skull of the person being hit to expand by at least twice its original size. It is a type of curse that is difficult to break using conventional means. Furthermore, if one is not careful and the way the head retracts is incorrect, it can easily result in death.

This is much more vicious than spells like the Bat Spirit Spell.

"Go to sleep." Harry waved his hand without removing the spell, and cast a sound-blocking spell on the curtains.

Neville snapped his fingers.

The Skull-Expanding Charm reminded him that he didn't have to limit himself to the spells in the textbooks. Those spells were very effective, but precisely because they were effective and common, there were most ways to deal with them. Perhaps he could try some of those spells that were rarely used?

For example, "Fuchsia"?

This was a spell that spread in a small group. When he was bullied by Slytherin in his first and second years, he was often teased by this spell.

Is there also a "gut-pulling curse"?

It's a very evil spell, but it works well. Even Harry would find it difficult to deal with an attack from the internal organs.

Of course, the premise is to hit.

The hardest part of dueling with Harry wasn't which spell to use, but how to make the spell hit him.

He counted the spells and fell into a deep sleep, not waking up until almost noon.

"Good morning, Ron." He greeted the only person behind the curtain with sleepy eyes. "Where are Harry and Hermione?"

"It's afternoon." Ron closed the book in his hand. "They went to the library. I should be able to see them in the hall later."

Neville was startled: "It's already noon?"

"Harry didn't wake me up..."

Ron responded expressionlessly: "Harry said that he would let you go during the day and prepare a big surprise for you at night."

Big surprise!

Neville took a deep breath.

He was not happy at all, he felt uneasy and even a little scared.

On Sunday night, Neville wasn't feeling the Sunday vibe at all.

But he was indeed enlightened.

At night, he was able to fight with Harry fairly well. He could perform some spells outside the textbooks with difficulty and he also found some feeling for the coordination between sword and wand.

only……

He had only started training for two months.

There was a huge gap between him and Harry, whether in physique, magic power, or experience. But because he had made some progress, he looked even more embarrassed.

tonight.

Neville was "killed" by Harry twenty-three times, each time in a different way, just like last night, he was so tired that he didn't even want to move his eyes.

Neville spent November in a state of near-death.

Heavy snow covered the castle in December, a week before Christmas.

A piece of pink paper was brought in by Hedwig and dropped in front of Harry - it was a letter from Rita Skeeter.