Chapter 653: A Disheartened Hermione The Slytherin common room.Because they had deliberately distanced themselves from Draco last year, nearly every little snake who pass |
Though it was only the briefest flicker, Draco still caught the odd look in Horace’s eyes.
He could more or less guess what it meant. “Is he trying to invite me into his Slug Club?”
He lifted an eyebrow.
Disgust flashed plainly across Hermione’s face. “What kind of revolting name is that?”
“Don’t underestimate that club. It’s a gathering Horace Slughorn started back when he first began teaching at Hogwarts.”
“It specifically invites outstanding students, the children of famous and successful people, and children from families with strong connections in the wizarding world.”
“When he first began teaching? You mean that weird-sounding club has been around for decades?”
“Exactly. If you knew who was in it, you definitely wouldn’t look down on it.”
As he said that, Draco gave Hermione a particularly pointed look.
“You actually know who some of the members are?”
“Of course. As far as I know, its members include the owner of Honeydukes, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet, an official from the Goblin Liaison Office, the captain of the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team, and even Tom Riddle, someone you know very well.”
“...”
That string of names left Hermione staring in shock, her mouth falling open.
Industrialists, officials, celebrities. Some of them were the kind of important figures she had no way of coming into contact with at all right now.
And... Tom Riddle?!
Wasn’t that Voldemort?
The moment Hermione remembered exactly who Tom Riddle was, she looked up in stunned disbelief. “You just said... Tom Riddle? But isn’t that...”
“That’s right. It’s exactly who you think it is. I didn’t misspeak, and I certainly didn’t remember wrong.”
Draco’s crisp answer immediately shut down any other explanation Hermione might have tried to come up with.
Looking back at Professor Horace on the platform, with his round belly jutting out and not looking remotely like some formidable figure, Hermione suddenly found herself growing curious about this so-called Slug Club...
...
No one noticed anything unusual about Horace, or the conversation Draco and Hermione had just had.
And after Harry Potter sat back down in his seat, Horace gave the rest of the students no chance to notice anything either...
“All right.” As he spoke, Horace pushed out his already bulging stomach a little farther. “I’ve prepared a few potions to broaden your horizons. Purely for my own amusement, of course.”
“By the time you finish the advanced class, all of you should be able to brew things like these. Now then, even if you haven’t made them yourselves yet, you’ve certainly heard of them or read about them in books.”
“So, who can tell me what this potion is?”
As Horace pointed toward the golden cauldron near the back of the classroom, every young witch and wizard in the room turned to look.
At that exact moment, Draco saw Hermione, seated beside him, shoot her hand high into the air.
She was so quick and practiced that even Professor Horace, seeing it for the first time, froze for a few seconds.
He probably hadn’t expected anyone to have the answer so fast.
Once he gave her permission to speak, Hermione immediately delivered the answer she already knew by heart. “It’s Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces whoever drinks it to tell the truth.”
A perfect answer.
You could hear from Professor Horace’s laugh just how pleased he was with Hermione’s response.
In a way, choosing Hermione for his class was also indirect proof that his judgment had not dulled with age...
And when Hermione went on to identify the next few potions correctly as well, one after another, the sheer depth of her knowledge left every student in the room staring at her in astonishment. The only ones who kept a straight face were Draco of Slytherin and Harry Potter, who was from the same house.
After all, in the past five years at school, they had seen scenes like this more times than they could count. To students from those two houses, there was nothing remarkable about it anymore.
Only the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students, who rarely had class with Gryffindor, were shocked enough to react like this...
“So this is the legendary know-it-all?”
“Now I finally get why everyone calls Granger that.”
“How does she even do it?”
Given enough time, they might have been able to answer Professor Horace’s questions too. But to give a perfect answer in such a short time was another matter entirely...
...
Veritaserum, Polyjuice Potion, Love Potion.
From the signs these potions showed when completed to the effects they carried, Hermione gave flawless answers to every question.
And with each correct response, Professor Horace’s attitude toward her grew warmer and warmer. There was even a trace of surprise in his eyes.
Perhaps this was the first time in all his years of teaching that he had ever met a student this outstanding.
“Excellent, excellent. I take it you must be Miss Granger.”
“You know me, sir?”
“Of course. You’re very close friends with Mr. Malfoy, aren’t you?”
Professor Horace’s wink and meaningful smile made Hermione flush and shoot Draco, beside her, an accusing glare.
It made sense.
No matter how brilliant Hermione was, there was no way a professor meeting her for the first time would recognize her on sight. More likely, he cared a great deal about everything connected to Draco and had looked into it beforehand.
And since Hermione was almost always with Draco, Horace would naturally know who she was as well...
But that was the extent of it.
His next question made it obvious that Horace didn’t really know much about Hermione’s background.
“Granger? Are you the child of Hector Dagworth-Granger, founder of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?”
That long name left Hermione looking bewildered, while Draco, beside her, vaguely remembered that there did seem to be such a person in the wizarding world.
What Draco had not expected was that Professor Horace would actually connect the two.
Was Horace’s memory really that extraordinary, or were his connections just that terrifying...?
Realizing it was a misunderstanding, Hermione hurriedly waved her hand. “No, probably not, Professor. I’m muggle-born.”
To everyone’s surprise, Professor Horace showed no sign of disappointment at all.
On the contrary, he looked at her with a broad smile, then glanced at Draco sitting beside her.
“Very good, very good. Twenty points, well deserved, to Miss Granger of Gryffindor.”
When it was over, Hermione shot Draco a look that was both proud and puzzled. Draco only shrugged. “I told you before. This Slughorn doesn’t care whether you’re a muggle.”
“Mm... that really is... a very unusual Slytherin.”
At that moment, Hermione seemed to understand why so many students were willing to get close to Professor Horace...
...
Although Professor Horace on the platform showed great interest in Hermione’s outstanding performance just now, he was in no hurry to invite her into his club. Instead, he began introducing the rather special golden cauldron behind him and the potion brewing inside it...
The potion in the cauldron was splashing merrily, its color like molten gold Galleons.
Even more curious, the large droplets leaping across the surface looked like little golden fish, yet not a single drop spilled over the rim.
The scent drifting through the air seemed to be the very thing making Hermione feel pleasantly lazy all over.
This nearly finished potion not only smelled wonderful, it carried a sense of happiness with it.
Just as all the young wizards were craning their necks, trying to figure out what the golden potion was, Professor Horace, one hand resting on his great belly, began the day’s Potions lesson. “Yes, it’s an exceptionally rare potion, because it’s incredibly difficult to brew. If even one step goes wrong, not only will the potion fail, the consequences may be disastrous.”
He paused.
“However, if you succeed, you’ll find that whatever you do will turn out well... at least until the effects wear off.”
At those meaningful words, all the young wizards except Harry Potter, who still looked completely lost, fell into thought.
Among them, Hermione was the first to react. Leaning close to Draco’s ear, she softly voiced her conclusion. “Whatever you do will turn out well... that sounds like Felix Felicis! The magical potion that brings you good luck!”
Felix Felicis.
Just one drop, and all your efforts will be rewarded.
If Felix Felicis needed a slogan, that line would fit it perfectly.
And from Professor Horace’s few words alone, anyone could tell just how valuable and rare Felix Felicis was...
“It seems everyone’s figured it out. That’s right, what you see before you is Felix Felicis.”
The moment the professor confirmed it, all the young wizards below immediately straightened up, their eyes fixed on the cauldron, full of longing and amazement.
Most of them had only ever heard of or read about the golden-glowing potion before them.
None of them had expected to get the chance to see it here.
Only Harry Potter, who had no idea what Felix Felicis was, still looked utterly confused.
From this alone, it was easy to see just how out of place Harry Potter was compared to the rest of the students in the classroom.
Like a Husky that had somehow wandered into a pack of wolves...
...
Although they knew Felix Felicis existed, many of its details couldn’t be learned from books.
And since the young wizards were deeply interested in it, they began raising their hands one after another to ask questions...
“Professor, if it’s that amazing, why don’t people drink it all the time?”
Judging by the robes he was wearing, the student who asked was probably from Hufflepuff.
“Because it’s far too expensive for an ordinary wizard to afford. And if taken in excess, it causes dizziness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence.”
“Have you ever taken it, Professor?”
“Of course. I’ve taken it twice in my life. Once when I was twenty-four, and once when I was fifty-seven. I took two spoonfuls at breakfast, and those two days were absolutely perfect.”
As he said this, Horace wore a distant, almost dazed look as he stared off ahead. Whether he was playing it up or not, his words made one thing very clear. The effects of Felix Felicis were irresistibly tempting...
Hermione, who was just as interested, turned excitedly to Draco. “Have you taken it too, Draco? Can you tell me what it felt like?”
Although Draco had no idea why Hermione was so certain he had taken Felix Felicis, even if he did receive Christmas gifts from Snape every year, he still slowly shook his head. “No. I don’t need that sort of thing to make me more confident.”
“More confident? Isn’t it supposed to make you...”
“Lucky? Felix Felicis really is magical, but it can’t do that. Of course, I won’t deny its value.”
“...Then, Mr. Malfoy, in all your confidence, could you take your hand off my waist?”
“Ahem... reflex. No, an accident.”
Hermione’s face turned red as she ground her teeth and glared at the hand that had so smoothly slipped over there.
If they hadn’t been in class, she definitely would have made the scoundrel beside her pay for it.
Just then, a wave of startled cries suddenly rose around them, and Hermione thought for a moment that Draco’s little move had been noticed by everyone else.
It was only after she listened carefully that she patted her chest in relief.
The reason for the commotion was a single sentence from Horace...
A small bottle had appeared in his hand.
Horace gave the little bottle a gentle shake. “A tiny vial of Felix Felicis can bring twelve hours of good luck, from dawn to dusk. Whatever you do, fortune will smile on you. And I’ll be offering it as the prize for this class.”
“That’s brilliant!”
Horace pressed his hand down for silence, and once the room quieted again, he continued, “However, I must remind you that Felix Felicis is forbidden in organized competitions. Therefore, whoever wins this prize may only use it on an ordinary day... and then wait to see that ordinary day become extraordinary!”
“So, how do you win this marvelous prize? Now then, everyone turn to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We’ve got a little over an hour left, so use that time to brew the potion described there.”
Looking at everyone’s eager expressions, Horace spoke in high spirits. “I know this is more complicated than anything you’ve brewed before, and I don’t expect anyone to produce a flawless result. But whoever does the best will win this little bottle of Felix Felicis!”
The moment Horace finished speaking, he didn’t need to urge them on at all. Every young wizard immediately sprang into action.
The rolling clatter of potion ingredients.
The scraping sound of cauldrons being moved.
Only those sounds filled the air. No one had any interest in talking, because all their attention was fixed on what they were doing.
It had to be said that any wizard who could make it into the advanced class, even if they weren’t some once-in-a-generation genius, certainly possessed real talent.
That level of focus and practiced skill alone was already far beyond that of an ordinary sixth-year wizard.
Well... except for Harry Potter, who stood there flustered and completely lost, with no idea where to begin...
...
The Slytherin common room.
Because they had deliberately distanced themselves from Draco last year, nearly every little snake who passed by him now looked somewhat uncomfortable.
No one wanted to offend someone destined to become powerful, especially not a Slytherin.
Beyond their guilt, some even wore obvious regret on their faces, as though they were bitterly regretting what they had done before.
The reason for such a dramatic shift in attitude among the little snakes was naturally Lucius’s maneuvering and that article.
Although the situation still wasn’t entirely clear, almost no one now believed that Draco would fail to rise...
In short.
Whatever one might say about how pragmatic these people were, or how much of it was sincere, this scene was immensely satisfying to Pansy, Goyle, and the others who followed Draco, making them feel proud and pleased with their choice.
What they didn’t know was that when Goyle and Crabbe had first read about what Draco had done in the Daily Prophet, they too had been stunned and full of disbelief...
And while Goyle and Crabbe were swaggering around the Slytherin common room with several followers, Pansy tugged at Draco’s robe with a strange expression. “Sneaking around... ahem, what’s wrong with Granger? Why does she look like she failed an exam?”
Using “failed an exam” to describe Hermione’s current state was actually very fitting.
In fact, ever since Draco and the others had finished Potions and returned to the Slytherin common room, Pansy had wanted to ask about it.
Because this was the first time she had ever seen Hermione Granger wearing such a life-doubting expression and looking so absent-minded.
Naturally, Draco knew exactly what Pansy meant.
He said with a hint of amusement, “It’s nothing. She just took a blow.”
“You mean... she got hit that hard? Don’t tell me she lost to you again.”
Faced with Pansy’s suspicious stare, Draco twitched the corner of his mouth. “Not me. If it had been me, do you really think Hermione would look like this?”
“True. It’s not like this is the first time she’s lost to you. She should be numb to it by now... so who was the wizard?”
While saying something that darkened Hermione’s expression, Pansy also grew curious about the mysterious wizard Draco was talking about.
From what she knew of the sixth-years, there shouldn’t be anyone like that among them.
Otherwise, Draco and Hermione could never have dominated their year for five straight years...
Glancing toward Hermione, Draco spread his hands. “Honestly, I was surprised too.”
“You were too?”
“No. All I can say is that I handled enough of the details in the potion-making process. Otherwise, the result really would’ve been hard to say.”
What Draco didn’t mention was that the other person’s technique had felt strangely familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before.
And after learning that even Draco had nearly capsized, Pansy became even more curious about this mysterious wizard...
But in the very next second, the curiosity on her face turned into utter shock.
All because of Draco’s answer...
He gave the small bottle in his hand a little shake. A faint stream of golden light shimmered within it, and through the glass, his eyes seemed to carry a strangely fractured look. “It was close. Just a little closer, and this prize in my hand would’ve been his.”
“...”
“That Potter, the one who had no business being in the Advanced Potions class.”
Pansy blinked. “Potter? Which Potter?”
Draco gave her a teasing blink in return. “Other than that Potter, what other wizard do you think is called Potter?”
“...”
Pansy’s mouth fell slightly open.
That was impossible!!
How could it be Harry Potter?
...
If it really was that Harry Potter, then Pansy could understand why Hermione looked so badly shaken.
Although he was called the Savior, everyone knew Harry Potter put almost no effort into studying.
Especially when it came to Potions.
Because of Snape, Harry Potter, who hated the man and everything connected to him, had not only never seriously settled down to study it, but had also thoroughly loathed and rejected everything about Potions.
For Harry Potter, it wasn’t so much that he disliked Potions as that he hated Snape himself.
Strictly speaking, Harry Potter might not actually lack talent in Potions. It was just that because of Snape, he had been unwilling to learn any of it...
So with all that being the case, there was absolutely no reason Hermione should have lost to Harry Potter in potion-making.
More importantly, Harry Potter’s performance had nearly surpassed even Draco’s.
Perhaps that was exactly why Hermione was reacting so unusually.
Hearing the two of them talking, Hermione slowly wiped the expression from her face. “I’m not that fragile. It’s just...”
“You’re just doubting yourself?”
“...”
Well, Hermione’s silence was as good as admitting Draco’s guess.
Seeing Hermione sink back into dejection, Pansy quietly poked Draco with her hand.
The worried look she sent him made Draco smile in understanding.
Whenever those two were together, they were always noisy and bickering.
But if something happened to the other, they couldn’t help worrying. That made Draco gently rub Pansy’s little head, his gaze softening. “Actually, I don’t think Potter has that kind of ability.”
“Huh?”
Although Pansy hadn’t been there at the time, she trusted Draco’s judgment completely.
So while Hermione let out a startled sound, Pansy added her own opinion and guess. “That’s what I’m saying. Maybe he cheated, and that’s why he did so well.”
“Cheated... is that possible?”
“Of course. The effects of dark magic artifacts are beyond your imagination. Maybe, just maybe, he happened to have one in his hands.”
“That does sound possible. If there really is a tool like that.”
“Hmph, who do you think I am!”
“I wasn’t complimenting you.”
Completely led around by the nose by Pansy, Hermione finally nodded hesitantly.
She didn’t quite believe Harry Potter could cheat so openly right under the professor’s nose, but this did seem like the only explanation that made sense.
Otherwise, Hermione truly couldn’t believe she had lost to Harry Potter, who even copied other people’s homework...
While Pansy and Hermione were whispering to each other, neither of them noticed Draco resting his chin on his hand, looking like he was thinking about something.
“Cheating?”
Because of Pansy’s careless remark, a thought faintly flashed through Draco’s mind.
If it wasn’t a dark magic artifact, then what was it that had caused Harry Potter’s change?
And that technique... he felt like he had seen it somewhere before...