Fleur came to deliver the crystal ball. Ordinarily, this sort of errand would have been handled by Tommy.
Once the item was in hand, John saw Fleur dispel the Heart of Silence.
Suddenly, Fleur let out a sigh.
"I don't think the Weasley family suits me," Fleur said.
John glanced around, realized Fleur was about to vent to him, and gave a helpless smile.
He snapped his fingers. Aberforth, who had been watching the whole time, thought he was being summoned.
Just as he was about to come over, he saw John conjure two exquisitely crafted goblets that looked utterly out of place in the pub.
Along with a bottle of wine so expensive it looked like it could treat the entire tavern for free.
This kid not only wasn't ordering anything—he was bringing his own alcohol?
Aberforth nearly lost it. Who freeloaded a pub like this?
John ignored him, poured Fleur a glass of cherry-blossom-colored wine, and even conjured a cherry to place on top.
Fleur took a sip, and it was as if a dam had burst. She began talking about everything she and Bill had gone through.
John played the role of a listening tree, complete with refilling service.
And every now and then, he chimed in with a word or two in response.
As for Fleur's romantic troubles, they could be summed up in a single sentence.
He's a good man, but his mother isn't a good person.
…
Ron had been dosed with a love potion.
Harry used going to see Romilda as bait, luring Ron toward the Headmaster's office.
The potency of the love potion sent shivers down Harry's spine. Ron was acting like he had no brain at all—Harry could lead him straight to the Headmaster's office without the slightest suspicion.
Slughorn was wearing his sleeping robe, humming a little tune as he picked up a piece of candied jackfruit a former student had given him and popped it into his mouth, already preparing to open a bottle of mead to moisten his throat.
He had only just sat down when he heard an urgent voice.
It came from the gargoyle. From the sound alone, Slughorn recognized Harry.
He opened the door, and Harry climbed the spiral staircase to the entrance of the Headmaster's office.
"Harry," Slughorn muttered, "isn't this a bit early? I usually sleep in on Saturdays."
As Headmaster, Slughorn really didn't want anyone disturbing his comfortable Saturdays.
"Professor, I'm very sorry to bother you," Harry said as softly as he could. Behind him, someone kept rising onto his tiptoes, trying to peek into the old man's room.
Harry was nearly shoved inside. With a pained expression, he said, "But my friend Ron accidentally ingested a love potion. Could you make an antidote for him?"
"I wanted to take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we're not allowed to buy anything from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, so… you know…"
Going to Madam Pomfrey would mean Professor McGonagall and the others would find out, and they would definitely lose points.
The Weasley twins would never have imagined that one day their products would end up harming their own younger brother.
"I thought you'd already made an antidote for him," Slughorn said in puzzlement. "Aren't you something of a Potions expert, Harry?"
"Uh…" Harry's mind raced as he replied without letting himself slip up, "I've never brewed an antidote for a love potion before, sir. By the time I managed it, Ron might already be in serious trouble."
It was a perfectly reasonable excuse, and Slughorn didn't doubt him in the slightest.
Besides, Harry coming to him made the collector at heart quite pleased.
"It's his birthday today, Professor," Harry pleaded.
Slughorn didn't hesitate any longer and waved them inside.
"Let's hope the potion hasn't expired," Slughorn said teasingly. "You know, the longer it's been sitting around, the stronger it gets."
As Harry stepped inside, he noticed the room looked different from the Christmas party.
Unlike during Dumbledore's time, there weren't so many silver instruments. Instead, there were two delicate small cauldrons, along with a display cabinet and an ingredients cupboard.
"You came at just the right time," Slughorn said, drawing a bit of emerald-green liquid from one of the fine cauldrons. "There's just a little left—let's try the 'Universal Antidote.'"
He poured the potion into a small cup and handed it to Ron, whom Harry was still steadying.
"How do I look?" Ron asked dreamily.
Slughorn said, "Very handsome. Drink this—it'll help you stay calm when she arrives."
Slughorn leaned toward Harry and muttered quietly, "This is all I've got. I'm still experimenting with how to brew it."
Harry noticed that the potion looked very similar to the one John had given Mrs. Weasley.
Ron didn't suspect a thing and drank it straight away.
This concoction Slughorn called a "Universal Antidote" worked quickly—its effects were immediate.
"Well? I imagine it tastes a bit like pondweed?" Slughorn asked.
Ron was freed from the love potion's influence, but his face twisted in bitterness, like he'd just eaten a dozen raw bitter shoots.
He collapsed onto the sofa, wearing an expression of existential doubt.
"The taste wasn't great. Maybe we could have something else to perk us up."
Slughorn took out a bottle of mead and said proudly, "This was a gift from John—oak-aged mead. I must say, he really knows how to cater to one's tastes."
As he uncorked it, a rich yet gentle aroma wafted through the room.
Slughorn took out three glasses and poured the mead.
Handing each of them a glass, he said contentedly, "Such a fine drink deserves a proper toast."
"Here's to Mr. Weasley's birthday—may it drive away the pain of shattered love. Cheers."
"Cheers."
Slughorn laughed heartily, and Harry felt the old man looked far more endearing like this. Laughing as well, he raised his glass and called out, "Cheers."
Just as Harry was about to drink, Ron beside him downed his glass in one go—then his body went rigid and collapsed straight backward.
Ron's limbs convulsed violently, white foam spilling from his mouth, his eyes bulging.
"My—Merlin—Ralph?"
"Ron!"
Slughorn was so shocked he even got the name wrong.
Harry rushed over and shouted at Slughorn, "Professor! Do something—quick!"
Faced with the scene, Slughorn froze in panic. He looked down at the glass in his hand, stammering, "How… but… this…"
Harry vaulted over a low table and reached the two delicate small cauldrons. When he looked inside, only two drops of the emerald-green liquid remained.
There was no time to think.
Harry grabbed the entire cauldron, pried Ron's mouth open with one hand, and poured the two drops of the emerald liquid inside.
Ron's body gradually stopped convulsing, but his condition was still far from reassuring—the amount of potion here was simply too little.
Slughorn seemed to snap out of it and hurried Harry to get Ron to the hospital wing.
The bottle of mead was left on the table, still half full of amber liquid.
…
John hadn't expected to be sitting in a grimy pub, listening to Fleur talk about her love life.
Once Fleur finally finished, John returned to the school as well.
He didn't head back to the castle right away, instead stopping to look out over the Black Lake.
After making sure the small bag was securely fastened, he walked toward the lake.
A Grindylow spotted John and tried to swim over, intending to toy with the student.
John gave it a glance, and the Grindylow suddenly felt that this person looked very familiar.
A few seconds later, having remembered something, the Grindylow fled back into the water at twice the speed it had approached.
At the same time, the other creatures in the lake seemed to get the message and scattered, fleeing into the distance.
"I don't remember doing anything,"
John murmured as he watched the scene, falling into thought.
He really hadn't done much in the Black Lake last time.
All he'd done was split the lake open and intimidate them with dragon aura at the bottom, hadn't he?
Aside from that, he hadn't done anything else.
Stepping into the water, the Black Lake rose over his head.
John tried to communicate with the spirit of the Black Lake, but just like last time, there was no response.
He simply swam toward the place where he'd found the giant squid before.
…
Not being allowed to go to Hogsmeade was torture for restless young people.
They could only find ways to amuse themselves inside the castle.
Slytherin didn't have the lofty views enjoyed by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.
Fortunately, they had a one-of-a-kind underwater scene—something uniquely special among the four houses.
Upper-year students seemed to take endless pleasure in pranking younger ones. Just like now, Malfoy wore a wicked grin as he told a younger student, "If you see merpeople underwater, you'll receive a blessing."
The younger student, naïve and inexperienced, believed him without question.
Malfoy's mischievous streak flared up as he added, "Actually, there's an even more advanced blessing than the merpeople's."
"What is it?" the younger student asked, eyes full of admiration.
Malfoy smiled mysteriously and lowered his voice. "Have you ever heard of the legend of John beneath the water?"
"John under the water?"
The younger student looked stunned, raising a hand to point at the massive pane of glass. "Like… that?"
Malfoy turned his head to look, nodded, and said, "That's right, exactly like that. If you see John under the water, then you can—Eh, wait!"
Malfoy snapped his head back around, staring at John walking past beneath the water, his mouth falling open.
It really was John under the water.
A classic scene, perfectly reenacted.
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