John didn't go watch. He was in the Headmaster's office.
He sprinkled a teaspoon of dried Blackroot powder into the cauldron and stirred. A foul, fishy stench filled the room.
"Blackroot, when ingested, provides resistance against dark magic."
Slughorn rested both hands on the sides of his generously padded waist. The buttons on his waistcoat looked as though they might pop off at any moment.
"A very wise choice," he praised. "Though we can't know for certain whether it can resist something like a Bloodborne Curse."
"This isn't a potion meant to counter the Bloodborne Curse," John said, shaking his head. "It's to prevent other magical effects from triggering during the removal of the curse."
"Your caution is admirable," Slughorn said.
"Perhaps we could add some rose thorns."
As a Potions Master, Slughorn offered his own input.
This was precisely why John sought Slughorn's help with the research. On one hand, it allowed him to build a connection with the man; on the other, he could rely on the sharp mind of someone who had taught at Hogwarts for decades.
As Headmaster, Slughorn had no complaints about being invited to experiment on a Saturday.
After all, John had gifted him a new deluxe ice-cream set, and the pineapple flavor inside was especially to Slughorn's liking.
Slughorn also got along quite well with the portrait of the former Headmaster Black. It was common to see the two Slytherin headmasters chatting happily together—much to the annoyance of the other headmasters, who could often be heard huffing through their noses.
John noticed an entire collection of Lockhart's books on Slughorn's shelf.
"Ah~ When he was in school, that Ravenclaw boy always had some outlandish idea to draw attention," Slughorn said. "But once he left Hogwarts, he seemed to become a truly courageous wizard."
Slughorn spoke with a hint of regret. "I failed to recognize his potential back then."
Yes, because he had none.
John's expression stayed blank. Lockhart's success had once made Slughorn suspect that his own judgment had been flawed.
But in reality, everything Slughorn knew about Lockhart had been perfectly accurate.
Even John couldn't understand how Lockhart had managed to graduate from Hogwarts at all.
Aside from the Memory Charm, Lockhart could mess up even two simple unlocking spells.
Slughorn's sharp, cunning eye was usually as precise as a scanning device.
When they finished today's experiment, John prepared to leave.
Slughorn tried inviting him to a Slug Club dinner, but John declined, saying he still needed to sort through the remaining ingredients.
He left the Headmaster's office.
Instead of going to the Constellation Society, John headed to the Quidditch pitch.
He hadn't even entered yet when he heard the uproar coming from inside.
Ten broomsticks were streaking across the pitch, and the fastest rider would advance to the next round.
Among the ten, a girl with golden hair left everyone else far behind.
Wearing windproof goggles, she maneuvered the standard Slytherin test broom— a Nimbus 1000— with practiced ease.
When she reached the point where she needed to turn, she leaned down, lowering her center of gravity. Her movement swept through the curve as smoothly as if drawn by a compass.
Behind her, other candidates were losing control—some slammed into the stands, others overshot and collided with the riders behind them.
The girl won.
John couldn't help applauding, and the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers.
She pulled off her goggles and, still seated on her Nimbus 1000, raised her right hand in victory.
Confident and striking, she drew a shout from one Slytherin boy: "So cool!"
Her golden hair was tied in a ponytail, and her steadily maturing features were captivating to look at.
Daphne waved excitedly. "Astoria! Way to go!"
Astoria entered the next selection round. Off to the side, Malfoy was being held back by Goyle and Crabbe.
"Draco, don't lose your head."
"That idiot shouting 'so cool'—what makes him think he's worthy of saying that to Asto?"
The two big boys barely managed to hold Malfoy back, preventing the prefect from beating up a lower-year student.
The selection continued.
Astoria's performance shocked everyone.
Her looks weren't as sharply intimidating as her sister's "don't-mess-with-me" elegance; instead, she had a soft, adorable face.
But this seemingly gentle girl flew faster than anyone else— and even managed to score eighteen goals while moving at high speed.
Sitting beside Daphne, John remarked in surprise, "I didn't know Astoria had such good flying skills."
"She's very talented at this. She's always the fastest when we ski in Finland."
Her sister spoke with so much pride that she instinctively ignored the question of why Astoria was even here trying out.
Her smile didn't fade until Astoria successfully secured the position of Slytherin Chaser.
"That's amazing, Asto!"
Malfoy couldn't hold it in. Seeing Astoria make the team, he shouted encouragement.
Astoria ran over and gave him a hug.
For a moment, John's left hand shot out almost on reflex.
"Calm down. Calm down."
John pressed down on Daphne's hand just as she drew her wand, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Even if it's Draco, he can't withstand a curse like that."
"That damned ferret!" Daphne struggled. "I'm going to hang him from the Astronomy Tower—"
After a few seconds of fighting, Daphne suddenly froze.
It was as if her mind had crashed—her head slowly lowered.
When she saw the hand tightly holding her own, Daphne's anger dissolved as quickly as cotton candy dropped into water.
In its place rose something entirely different.
John noticed her emotions settling and finally relaxed a little himself.
To prevent her from acting on impulse again, he kept holding her hand—wand and all.
Daphne didn't object. She didn't even spare attention for whatever her sister was doing on the field now.
The Slytherin tryouts lasted two full hours.
Astoria becoming a Chaser was something worth celebrating.
They weren't lacking Beaters—Goyle and Crabbe had performed well last year and successfully secured their positions again.
Chaser positions saw a full reshuffle, and several reserves were recruited as well.
When the selections ended, Malfoy dismissed everyone.
Slytherin's advantages over the other houses were on full display—their discipline was far superior to the usual chaos elsewhere.
They lined up and walked out of the Quidditch pitch in an orderly line.
John watched the new recruits, still innocent and unaware. They had no idea what they were about to face.
Today was only the selection round, so Malfoy hadn't started training.
By next week, they would be subjected to Draco Malfoy's merciless torment.
Compared to the other houses, Slytherin had one simple, unadorned advantage.
Money.
And that wealth didn't only refer to the students' backgrounds—it included team sponsorships.
While other houses still required students to bring their own broomsticks, Malfoy led his players straight to the locker room.
Inside, six Nimbus 2001s were neatly arranged.
They were leftovers from the previous team. Even though it had been years since the first batch of Nimbus 2001s rolled off the line, no broom had yet replaced its position—second only to the Firebolt.
Unless another house purchased Firebolts in bulk, Slytherin's gear would always be the best.
After guiding the team through a familiarization run, Malfoy finally dismissed them.
It was like the calm before a storm. Malfoy allowed the players to enjoy the last easy break of the term while they still could.
…
Gryffindor common room.
Because of Ron's situation, Harry kept trying to comfort him.
Eventually, even Hermione joined the comforting squad.
Ron's skills actually weren't bad—his only problem was his lack of confidence.
And it was precisely that flaw that led to him choking in the second round and getting defeated by McLaggen.
Although Ron pretended not to care, he still couldn't get past the knot in his heart.
Harry even considered giving him another tryout match just to cheer up his best mate.
But he couldn't do that—it wouldn't be fair to the other candidates.
"Why did it have to be McLaggen?" Ron groaned in frustration.
Losing to anyone else wouldn't have bothered him this much, but McLaggen was just too insufferable.
Ron felt McLaggen belonged in Slytherin—that house would suit him perfectly.
Harry didn't like the guy either; McLaggen acted more like a captain than Harry did.
Hermione could only suggest going to find Hagrid.
Ron muttered irritably, "Forget it. Hagrid probably doesn't even want to see us right now."
"Let's go. Hagrid definitely wants to see us," Harry said, thinking this might help Ron relax a bit.
The other two agreed, and Ron was forced to go along with it.
They headed toward Hagrid's hut.
Outside the cabin, they saw Buckbeak—the Hippogriff who was supposed to have been executed.
With Sirius coming to Hogwarts, Buckbeak had returned as well, once again cared for by Hagrid.
Harry knew exactly how to approach him. He stepped forward, met Buckbeak's gaze, and bowed deeply.
Buckbeak stared back for a moment, then bowed in return, allowing Harry to come closer.
Just as Harry stepped forward to stroke the creature's feathers, they saw Hagrid walking around from behind the hut.
He had looked cheerful just moments ago, but his face fell instantly when he spotted them.
________
o(*￣▽￣*)ブSupport and Read 12 Chapters ahead: Patreon/Dragonel