"Mr. Weasley... you've cut the wrong ingredient again."
In the Potions classroom, a gloomy voice rang out.
Professor Snape stopped his patrol. His deep, dark gaze fixed on Ron and Harry, lips curving into a mocking smile.
"I asked you to make a Pain Relief Potion. What are you cutting? Sweet flag root? Hmm?"
The oppressive trailing tone made Ron uncomfortably lower his head, face flushed.
He'd been distracted. Completely failed to notice whether he was cutting bay leaves or sweet flag root.
"Mr. Weasley, could you tell this ignorant professor what potion you intend to make? Weakening Solution? Confusing Concoction? Or... Love Potion?"
"Professor... I was just..."
Seeing Ron clutch the sweet flag root, stammering, Professor Snape snorted coldly. Swept his robes and walked to the podium.
His cold gaze swept across the students below.
"Mr. Weasley, please treat your remaining ingredients seriously. I very much look forward to seeing Mr. Potter personally taste the Love Potion you've created..."
To ensure potion rigor and prevent young wizards from wasting ingredients, Professor Snape occasionally randomly selected students to try their own potions.
Given potions' complex, indescribable taste, this was never good news for the selected students—whether successfully brewed or not.
Hearing Snape's words, the students all lowered their heads. Afraid the next name called would be theirs.
Only Tiger looked at Snape with full appreciation. He really loved Snape's way of speaking.
"I'll do it, Ron..."
Harry patted Ron's shoulder. Took the tools from his hands and began remaking the potion.
He wasn't afraid of testing the potion. But Ron's mood really wasn't good—his attention completely off the potion. This could be dangerous.
"Listen, Ron. We were too impulsive last night. We should calm down and look for another opportunity. Instead of being led around by Malfoy. He's always used provocation to make us lose our minds..."
"But we've already lost game qualification!"
Before Harry finished, Ron angrily interrupted. Bay leaf juice seeped through his clenched fist.
Last night they'd tried cornering Malfoy in the fourth-floor washroom to teach him a lesson.
However, before Ron could taunt him, Malfoy had raised his wand first. Used the smoke and debris from Blasting Curse as cover, charged toward Seamus at strange speed and pressed his wand tip to Seamus's throat.
Unlike Slytherin, Gryffindor had never had any other answer regarding companion choices—even if this was just a game.
Accompanied by vicious taunts, Malfoy dragged pale-faced Seamus out of the washroom. When leaving, hit Seamus with another Blasting Curse.
The protective badge dimmed instantly. Seamus was knocked into the washroom by the explosion's impact.
Before they could help Seamus up, Professor McGonagall appeared in the corridor. Face livid...
Harry understood his friend's anger and frustration. He hadn't expected Malfoy to choose direct action instead of his usual taunts.
After pouring the potion into the cauldron, Harry glanced at Snape, who'd walked to the back row. Moved closer to Ron and lowered his voice:
"Listen, Ron. We just lost the right to act. But that doesn't mean we lost the right to participate in the game. You understand?"
Ron seemed to understand. The anger on his face gradually faded. His eyes lit up.
But after a few seconds, he became dejected again.
"Oh, damn. Let's think about tonight first."
Hearing Ron's words, the smile on Harry's face froze. Undisguisable dejection and frustration crept across his face.
"You're right..."
Professor McGonagall's punishment wasn't just point deduction.
Night fell deep.
Harry and Ron walked out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, shaking their wrists. Eyes vacant.
They'd written fan mail replies for three straight hours while listening to Professor Lockhart's endless boasting.
Pure hell.
"Harry... I suddenly miss Hermione."
Ron murmured quietly, as if his soul had floated away. He'd rather take a beating from Hermione than listen to Lockhart's flowery boasting again.
"Trust me, when you see her again, you'll regret saying that..."
Harry silently glanced at Ron.
After Potions class, learning why the Gryffindor hourglass had been emptied, Hermione wanted to shove their wands down their throats.
Fortunately, an attack from Slytherin saved their lives. Pansy Parkinson's Levitation Charm missed the Potions textbook in Hermione's arms and hit Hermione's skirt instead.
Right beside Tiger.
"Tigger?"
Tiger grinned. (?_?)
Harry never wanted to see that scene again.
The Slytherins scattered.
To cover Pansy's retreat, Blaise Zabini's protective badge was smashed by Hermione with a cauldron.
If Tiger hadn't intervened, Hermione would probably have chased Pansy all day. That mindless look was terrifying...
However, Harry inexplicably felt that Hermione's loss of reason wasn't really because of that Levitation Charm...
"Ahem... let's go check on Seamus first."
Ron obviously thought of this too. After an awkward cough, he quickly walked toward the trophy room...
The trophy room was empty. Cleaning rags and buckets quietly placed in the corner.
Obviously Seamus had already returned to the dormitory.
Just as the two were about to return, Harry suddenly stopped. He quickly drew his wand, looking around with panic.
"What's wrong, Harry?"
Ron was startled. He quickly drew his broken wand too, nervously watching the dark areas.
"Someone's talking!"
Harry's face was particularly pale.
However, Ron still looked completely confused.
"Who? Who's talking? I don't hear anyone talking!"
Harry held his breath. Tried to hear clearly that bone-chilling voice from before, but the surroundings were silent. In the vast trophy room, only their suppressed breathing could be heard.
"Don't know. He seems to have left..."
After a moment, Harry shook his head gravely. That cold, malicious voice had swept past his heart like a venomous snake.
"Let's go, Ron. It's too late. Let's get back quickly." Harry urged Ron to leave somewhat uneasily. "Maybe it was just a ghost passing by..."
"That would be perfect."
Ron put away his wand and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. Harry's face just now had been much paler than any ghost.
"By the way, what did you hear?"
"Seemed like someone wanted to kill someone. Couldn't hear clearly."
"Kill someone? Could it be the Bloody Baron?"
The two quickly walked out of the trophy room toward the staircase, their conversation echoing faintly...
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