"Finally settled!"
Hermione let out a breath and brushed off the snow on her body.
"In the corridor next to the library, some second-year students tried to use magic to throw snowballs out the window to 'ambush' others, but their aim was so poor that 'Incendio' almost burned the window frame, and several glass panes cracked... It took me nearly an hour to fix it all."
She looked up and saw the people gathered in the Umbrella House, her eyes instantly lighting up, and the fatigue on her face was replaced by joy.
"Great! This time, everyone is finally here!"
As she spoke, Hermione gave Harry a meaningful look.
Understanding her cue, Harry immediately took a stack of parchment from his backpack and distributed them to everyone, then cleared his throat.
"Ahem! Please give me a minute!"
Harry waved the parchment in his hand and said, "This is Ron's application. He hopes to join the SSC."
The room fell silent for a moment, then a loud whistle sounded.
"Wow!" Fred said with a wink: "George, look, am I seeing things? Who was it who said... only bookworms and weirdos would want to join a study club like that!"
"Let me take a closer look—"
George held the parchment up to the light, squinting as he examined it for a while, then solemnly said:
"Judging by the hook above this 'K', and the spelling and extra ink spots... Yes, Fred, it's definitely Ronnie's handwriting! Absolutely authentic!"
"Did a troll kick his brain? Or did a leprechaun crawl in and wreak havoc?" Fred pondered, stroking his chin, "This isn't like Ronnie at all!"
"Enough, you two!"
Hermione called out, stopping them from further teasing their brother.
Harry instinctively glanced around, relieved that Ron wasn't following behind Hermione.
Otherwise...
He could almost imagine that, if Ron were here, he would certainly be embarrassed red-faced by the brothers' taunting and possibly turn to leave.
Meanwhile, Harry couldn't help but recall the scene from this afternoon when they both returned from the Headmaster's Office.
Regarding Ron's issue, although Harry had been lost in thought and forgot to answer at the time, Ron had already seen the answer on his face, and in an instant, what little color Ron had left drained away completely.
He realized—Voldemort would indeed come back, and the struggle against the Dark Lord was not truly over.
In the Magic History Class that followed, Ron was restless for the first half, then suddenly seemed to have an idea, starting to hunch over his desk and scribble furiously on parchment with a quill, refusing to let Harry see.
It wasn't until class was over that he sheepishly slipped a revised and recopied parchment into Harry's backpack.
"What's this?"
Harry asked as he glanced, surprised to find it was an application.
Ron's face was flushed red up to his ears, and if Harry pressed even a little, he'd probably explode on the spot.
And Harry, naturally, wasn't that tactless. He stuffed the parchment deep into his backpack and said, "Don't worry... I'll definitely remember to pass it on this time."
Seeing that Harry wasn't making a big fuss, Ron breathed a sigh of relief, mumbling, "It's not like I'm begging to get in... It's just that if there's trouble in the future... Mate, I can't let you face it alone."
The ominous shadow loomed over his heart, making even Ron feel a sense of crisis and urgency.
This feeling was like a bucket of cold water pouring over his head, awakening the sense of responsibility long buried under insecurity and laziness, and stirring the hidden resentment masked by indifference in his heart.
Harry was touched, about to console Ron with a few words, when he saw his friend frowning in confusion and saying:
"But we're both in school, what kind of trouble could there be?"
Harry paused, momentarily at a loss for words.
Ron's gaze fell on Harry's backpack, recalling what he had written on the parchment earlier, and he suddenly felt so embarrassed that he wanted to curl his toes in.
He had half a mind to retrieve the application, but a certain emotion warned him not to—if becoming stronger was possible, what was a little lost pride?
...
"Clap, clap, clap!"
A round of applause snapped Harry out of his recollection.
Hermione looked at everyone, her expression serious, and said, "According to the rules we set initially, the admission of any new member requires the unanimous consent of everyone."
She pointed to the parchments in their hands and then took out a white board with pre-written options, saying:
"On all these copied applications, there are 'agree' and 'reject' options at the bottom, on which I've placed a Connecting Spell. After three minutes, everyone's choices will appear on this board, but they won't show who voted for what."
"So, don't worry about my or Harry's thoughts; feel free to make your choice according to your true intentions. Whatever the outcome... we can accept it."
She looked at Harry, who quickly nodded and said, "Yes! What Hermione said is exactly how I feel!"
Despite his words, as he hastily ticked off the 'agree' option, a wave of nerves washed over him, and his mind buzzed with wild guesses about how the others would choose.
Just one dissenting vote... even just one... and Ron's application would be rejected...
Given Ron's temperament, even if he said he didn't mind, he might find it hard to hang out with everyone afterward, wouldn't he?
Harry listened to his own heart pounding as if even unsealing an exam result wasn't as nerve-wracking.
And Vid also lowered his gaze to the application in his hand.
[...I know that I might not be very smart, have no particularly strong subjects, and not a good temper either, often sulking over stupid things.
I wish to join SSC not because I've suddenly become great, but because I don't want to continue like this; I don't want to be helpless in times of trouble, unable to do anything, and possibly become a burden.
I want to improve my abilities, but I'm limited and don't know what I can do for everyone.
I promise to take every activity and learning seriously, whether it's gathering information, practicing magic spells, or running errands; if anyone needs my help, I'm absolutely obliged!
I know this may not carry much weight, but it's all I can do for now, and I hope for the chance to become a bit more useful.
—Ron Weasley]
The straightforward words, even a bit clumsy, but the sincerity and longing shone brightly on the page.
Vid's pen only paused for a moment before circling the paper, then he lifted his eyes to look at the crowd.
Theo and others had put down their pens, Michael was poking his chin with the quill's nib, and Padma was carefully reading the application, as if seriously weighing it.
Several people exchanged glances, and the two Ravenclaws quickly made their choices as well.
Three minutes passed in silence, every second seemed distinctly clear and slow, only the faint crackling of wood in the fireplace broke the quiet.
Harry avoided looking at anyone, keeping his eyes glued to the desk in front of him, his palms slightly sweaty. Hermione clasped her hands on the table, fingertips pale, but she maintained a calm expression.
The room was unusually quiet, devoid of whispers, as if each person was fixated on the parchment before them.
Even the usually boisterous twins were unusually quiet, Fred gently nudged George with his elbow, but George just shook his head.
During the waiting, some shifted uneasily, others silently clenched their fists, while some remained remarkably calm.
Compared to grand battles, death, power struggles, etc., today's event seemed insignificant, just a vote within a student group, a decision to accept or exclude.
But at this moment, the air in the room felt dense, heavy with the weight of deciding another's fate.
It wasn't until time nearly ran out that Harry finally began to hear the quiet "shushing" sound of quills moving across paper.
A golden countdown hovered at the front of the whiteboard, and when all the numbers returned to zero, Hermione took a deep breath and said:
"Time's up... let's see the results."
Harry immediately raised his head, and everyone involuntarily held their breath.
Bright orbs of light emerged one by one on the whiteboard, as if drawn by an invisible hand...
One, two, three...
They lined up, each emitting a soft, affirming golden glow.
There was no pause, no hesitation, the orbs continued to increase until the number matched exactly those present.
They were all below the [agree] column.
The 'reject' column remained empty, a silent void.