Chapter 133
In the underground classroom of Potions, Harry and Hermione sat at one table, while Ron went to sit with Dean and Seamus.
"Antidote!" Snape said, glancing around the classroom, his cold black eyes flashing with an unpleasant light. "You should all have your recipes ready now. I expect you to brew carefully, and then we will select someone to try it out..."
The fourth-year Potions class was indeed not easy; students were required to research the recipes on their own.
Early in the first week of school, Snape had already explained the relationship between antidotes and other potions—here, antidotes were not just limited to poisons but also included those for love potions, complex potions, and truth serums. The knowledge involved was vast and profound, almost deserving to be a subject on its own. Of course, Hogwarts' curriculum still focused on the more common antidotes.
Snape had mentioned wanting to poison one of them before Christmas to see if their antidotes worked. It seemed that today was the day!
Soren didn't care; after all, according to the plot, he and Harry didn't have to attend class today.
As for Daphne, he had already practiced the preparation of the universal antidote with her secretly a few times. As long as Daphne didn't make any mistakes in the steps, even if she didn't coordinate well with the celestial changes or control the heat properly, she would be able to counteract most poisons—after all, it used bezoar, and as long as it wasn't against the venom of a basilisk or the venom of a spitting cobra, it should be fine.
Moreover, Snape choosing a Slytherin student as the target for poisoning was highly unlikely.
Just then, there was a knock on the door of the underground classroom.
The visitor was a third-year Gryffindor student with a head of gray-brown hair and a short stature. Soren remembered his name was Colin Creevey, a hardcore fan of Harry Potter.
He sidled into the classroom, first beaming a smile at Harry before walking toward Snape's podium at the front of the room.
"What is it?" Snape asked impatiently.
"Sorry, sir, I need to take Harry Potter upstairs."
Snape's gaze dropped from his hooked nose to Colin, and the smile vanished from Colin's eager face.
"Potter has another hour of Potions class," Snape said coldly. "He can go upstairs after class."
Colin's face turned red.
"Sir—sir, it's not just Harry Potter; Soren Malfoy is also involved. Mr. Bagman sent me to call them," he said anxiously. "All the champions need to go; I think they're going to take pictures..."
Snape's expression was quite something.
He had been holding back for so long, wanting to poison Harry on Halloween, but it had been interrupted by the welcoming ceremony for outside guests. Now, finally, he had the opportunity to play a cruel trick on Harry, only to watch the cooked duck fly away.
No matter how unwilling he was, he couldn't say anything, especially since Soren would leave the classroom with Harry.
"Potter—" he sneered. "Our famous Potter, how could he possibly need to attend such a simple Potions class?"
He walked to Soren's table, scrutinizing him with a cold expression, and said, "Malfoy, good luck." He paused and added softly, "Come to my office after class."
Soren looked at Professor Snape and nodded in acknowledgment.
Harry and Soren stood up and walked toward the door.
"That's amazing, isn't it, Harry?" As soon as Harry stepped out of the classroom and closed the door, Colin couldn't wait to say, "Isn't it? You became a champion!"
Harry felt his face burning, wishing Colin would close his mouth. He had lost to Soren twice and thought about competing with him, and his confidence was completely gone.
He tried to change the subject, "Why are they taking pictures, Colin?"
"Probably to publish it in the Daily Prophet!"
"Great," Harry muttered under his breath, "just what I wanted. Further embarrassment."
They arrived at an empty classroom, and after Colin tossed out a "Good luck," he hurriedly left.
This was a smaller classroom, with most desks pushed to the back, leaving a large empty space in the middle. However, three desks were arranged side by side in front of the blackboard, covered with a long piece of velvet. Behind the desks covered with velvet, there were five chairs, one of which was occupied by Ludovic Bagman, who was talking to a witch dressed in a bright pink robe.
Eleanor and Katalin saw Soren and greeted him with surprise, completely ignoring Harry, which made Harry's expression even worse.
Bagman suddenly spotted Harry and quickly stood up, jumping forward.
"Ah, come in, Harry, come in... There's nothing to worry about, it's just the wand-checking ceremony, the other judges will be here soon—"
"Wand-checking?" Harry asked nervously.
"We need to check if your wands are functioning properly and in good condition, because in the upcoming events, the wand is your most important tool," Bagman said. "The expert is upstairs with Dumbledore. Then we'll take a few pictures. This is Rita Skeeter," he said, pointing to the witch in a magenta robe, "she's writing a little article about the tournament for the Daily Prophet..."
Rita was dressed very fashionably, clearly having put a lot of effort into her appearance. Her golden hair was styled in an exaggerated way, obviously held in place by some potion, but her aesthetic sense seemed lacking; the hairstyle looked very awkward with her wide jaw.
She squinted her eyes, staring at Harry as if a hyena had found its prey.
"Before we start, can I have a word with Harry?" she asked Bagman, still keeping her eyes fixed on Harry, "the youngest champion, you know... to add some color to the article."
Bagman had just agreed when poor Harry was already grabbed by her into a broom cupboard for an interview.
Eleanor looked at this scene with interest and said softly to Soren, "Your British journalists are really something, ignoring us overseas guests, not even acknowledging you, and only picking on that boy who survived the big trouble for an exclusive interview..."
Soren naturally knew what was going on.
Rita was known for writing scandalous and gossip-related news; she wasn't afraid of even Dumbledore for the sake of her career. However, she had weaknesses; her greatest fear was losing the career she had worked so hard to build—Soren had connections in the media, so how could she dare to provoke him?
Soren smiled and replied, "After all, he's the boy who lived! He always attracts more readers' attention. You have to understand, today's readers are very picky; they want novelty, coherence, and a masterful writing style. Even so, a few of the Prophet's articles have readers going to its competitors for pirated copies."
Katalin chuckled, "Mr. Malfoy, why do I feel like you have quite the grudge?"
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Dumbledore's footsteps as he and Mr. Ollivander came down from upstairs. Upon hearing about Harry and Rita from Bagman, he frowned and immediately entered the broom cupboard to interrupt the interview, rescuing Harry.
Rita emerged, flushed with excitement, holding a piece of parchment. Harry's face looked as if he had just eaten a fly, and it was as bad as it could get.
Next, the wand-checking ceremony began.
The first to have her wand checked was Katalin Munro.
Ollivander twirled the wand between his long fingers like a conductor's baton, and the wand emitted many pink and gold sparks. Then he brought the wand close to his eyes, examining it carefully.
"Not bad," he said softly, "eleven and a half inches... very flexible... made of mountain ash... contains... oh my, this is..."
"Contains a feather from a quetzal," Katalin said, "it's my family heirloom."
Although Soren had never practiced making a wand, he was not ignorant about wandlore. Whether it was the Malfoy family, the Black family, the Greengrass family, or the Ravenclaw library, there were some texts on wand-making. Combining the knowledge passed down from these families, Soren might not match Ollivander, but he was certainly knowledgeable enough to look down on most in the field of wandlore.
Mountain ash wands are often suited for natural duelists, as they are one of the more powerful wands. At the founding of the Silver Spear, it was said that only wizards and witches with mountain ash wands were allowed to participate.
The quetzal feather is even more extraordinary; it combines the powerful characteristics of dragon heartstring wands—making spells cast with it more potent; at the same time, it possesses the versatility of phoenix feather wands—allowing spells to produce many creative variations.
From the perspective of the wand, Soren's conclusion was—
Indeed a formidable opponent!
Ollivander frowned deeply; the wand's abilities were completely beyond his appraisal skills. The feathered serpent had long been extinct, and he had never seen a feathered serpent wand!
Thus, he could only pretentiously run his fingers over the wand, clearly checking for scratches and dents, and he didn't even dare to use it to cast a spell before returning it to Katalin.
"Very good, very good, in good condition," Mr. Ollivander said, "Mr. Malfoy, it's your turn."
Katalin nimbly returned to her seat, smiling brightly at Soren as she brushed past him.
Mr. Ollivander examined the wand very carefully, going back and forth repeatedly, taking more than ten minutes before he looked at Soren with a serious expression and said, "Mr. Malfoy, do you remember what I told you three years ago when you bought this wand from me? I feel that your wand seems to have changed..."
Soren frowned and asked, "Excuse me, is there a problem with my wand?" He thought there might be an issue with his wand that he hadn't noticed, but he believed he had always taken good care of it.
"No, no, don't misunderstand, Mr. Malfoy," Ollivander hurriedly said, "There's nothing wrong with the wand, but I feel it has undergone some indescribable changes. I assure you this change will only benefit you; its compatibility with you has improved, and using it will make your spells more effortless."
Mr. Ollivander made Soren's wand emit a series of silver smoke rings, which floated from one end of the room to the other. He expressed satisfaction and said, "Miss Hohenheim, it's your turn."
Eleanor gracefully stood up and handed the wand to Mr. Ollivander.
"Well," Mr. Ollivander said, "if I'm not mistaken, this is a product of Grigovich. He is an excellent wand maker, though I don't particularly... well..."
Eleanor's expression didn't change much, but Soren still caught a hint of sarcasm flickering in her eyes.
Ollivander's expression suddenly changed dramatically, "Oh—"
His face turned an unnatural shade of red, clearly shocked by his own discovery, and he whispered, "I was mistaken; this is not Grigovich, this is... this is..."
"This is Cadmus Peverell's wand!"
Perhaps she hadn't expected this unassuming old man to see through the wand's origins, a hint of surprise flashed in Eleanor's eyes, but a smile appeared on her lips.
"Yes, our family was fortunate enough to have obtained this item."
A glint of brilliance flashed in Soren's eyes.
This family that practiced necromantic alchemy was indeed connected to the supreme achievement of necromantic alchemy, the "Resurrection Stone," wasn't it?
In that case, he had almost underestimated this opponent.
"In addition to the legacy of Pallas, do you also possess the legacy of the Peverell family, Eleanor von Hohenheim..."
Ollivander held the wand up to his eyes, inspecting it several times, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead as he could not discern the wand's material or its core composition!
After a while, he spoke, his voice trembling slightly: "Very good, very good... it seems to be a good wand..."
Finally, it was Harry's turn.
Ah ha!
"Ah, yes," Mr. Ollivander said, his light-colored eyes suddenly sparkling with excitement, "Yes, yes, yes. I remember it clearly."
No one knew how excited he was inside! Finally, he could face a simple wand!
It's just a phoenix feather and holly wood! The simplest wand!
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