bacchusnovels Chapter 565 Fructus Felicis
Chapter 565 Fructus Felicis
Chapter 561 Fructus Felicis
To be honest, it was really enjoyable.
After many years, my long-cherished wish has been fulfilled, and I even have my enemy's son as a punching bag. What could be more delightful than this?
If the three great joys for Easterners are "passing the imperial examination, the wedding night, and meeting an old friend in a foreign land," then Snape's three great joys are—
"That's terrible, Potter."
"Terrible, Weasley."
"That's terrible, Potter. Didn't your previous professor teach you how to use spells correctly?"
Today is a happy day for Snape.
According to the law of conservation of happiness, for every person who is happy, someone else is unhappy.
Harry is unhappy.
Even after leaving the classroom at the end of get out of class, he still couldn't escape the fear of being dominated by Snape.
"Harry, there's a letter for you."
Colin, a big fan, ran over.
Harry took it; it read:
Dear Harry:
Please come to my office at 8 PM tonight, and I will give you a private lesson.
Sean Phillips' command: Honey Lemon Black Tea. "Course? What course?" Ron asked, puzzled.
Harry shook his head, indicating that he knew nothing about it.
Hermione looked puzzled, her cheeks flushed, and she muttered, "Why didn't they give me a separate course?"
Harry and Ron thought she must be crazy.
Having Potions taught by someone other than Professor Snape is definitely a novel experience.
Slughorn's stomach arrived before his men did.
As his classmates entered the classroom one by one, his eyes crinkled with a smile, and he looked extremely enthusiastic.
The underground classroom has changed its appearance.
Snape's traces have been mostly removed.
This is hard to imagine, but considering that Slughorn spent far more time in this underground classroom than Snape, it's not surprising.
Instead of those eerie objects, there were large, bubbling crucibles.
Just like the hot pot restaurants in London's Chinatown.
It tastes strange, stinky yet fragrant, like durian.
It reminded everyone of many scents from their memories, and some people couldn't help but smile foolishly.
"Students, please take out your textbooks."
"I have prepared several potions to broaden your horizons. Although you have never made them yourself, you must have heard of their names."
This sentence translates to:
I'll show you how awesome I am; I can easily make any kind of potion.
"Can anyone tell me what this is?"
Slughorn asked, pointing to the cauldron closest to Slytherin.
Hermione raised her hand without hesitation.
"Miss Granger, you speak first."
"This is Truth Potion. Truth Potion is clear, colorless, odorless, and tasteless. It requires a full lunar cycle to mature. It can be mixed with any beverage, and three drops are enough to make the user reveal their deepest secrets."
"Very good, Miss Granger."
Slughorn quickly interrupted Hermione.
If Hermione continued, he would run out of things to say.
"As Miss Granger said, this potion is very famous. So, who can get their hands on this potion?"
Hermione raised her hand again.
"It's a compound decoction, sir."
The contents of the second crucible were the medicine she had brewed in the women's restroom a few years ago.
It is also—the beginning of a dream.
"Compound potions are potions that can temporarily transform the user into another form. They are extremely complex and time-consuming, making them difficult even for adult wizards."
"Very good, Miss Granger, Gryffindor deserves an extra five points."
Slughorn thought Hermione was praising him indirectly.
Only Ron and Harry knew that she was openly praising herself.
"And what about this one?"
"Aphrodisiac!"
"Aphrodisiacs are magical potions that make the user infatuated or obsessed with another person —"
"How did you recognize me?"
Slughorn looked very surprised.
"I recognized it by its unique pearlescent luster and the spiraling vapor. Its scent also varies from person to person, depending on what others like and what is formed in their brains. I can smell it—"
Hermione stopped abruptly, blushing.
No one knows what she just smelled; it's a secret.
"Of course, love created by aphrodisiacs is all fake."
"In this world, love is the least likely thing to be created or imitated."
"Love is love, and it requires two people to understand each other."
"And this drug only leads to intense obsession and infatuation—I have every reason to believe that this drug is the most dangerous of all."
"When you're my age..."
"Now I know what feelings really mean to some special people."
"
'
"Now, we're going to begin class."
"Sir, you still haven't told us what's in the last remaining crucible?"
McMillan raised his hand and pointed to the crucible next to the podium.
The medicine in the small crucible was bubbling merrily.
Its color resembled molten gold, and the large droplets of liquid on its surface jumped like goldfish leaping over the Dragon Gate, yet miraculously, not a single drop splashed out.
"This is Fructus Felicis."
Slughorn spoke with great pride when "Felix Felicis" was mentioned.
"Miss Granger, you must know about Felix Felicis."
"Yes, sir."
Hermione nodded, speaking with considerable excitement.
"Felix Felicis, also known as the potion of good fortune, is a potion that grants the drinker good luck for a period of time, during which everything they do will be successful."
However, excessive consumption—
—
"It can cause dizziness, reckless behavior, dangerous overconfidence, and even severe poisoning in drinkers."
"Absolutely right, add ten points to Gryffindor."
Slughorn smiled and remarked.
"I've taken FLORS twice in my life, once when I was twenty-four and once when I was fifty-seven. It's no exaggeration to say that those two days were the most perfect days of my life."
if----
If he had already prepared the Felix Felicis, he probably wouldn't have met Sean that day.
But you can't escape what happens on the first day of the month, nor can you escape what happens on the fifteenth.
You can't make sure the first thing you do every morning is to drink a mouthful of Felix Felicis, can you?
Slughorn's expression inspired longing in many young wizards.
Seeing the envious expressions on everyone's faces, Slughorn nodded in satisfaction.
"I will give this bottle of Felix Felicis as a reward for this lesson."
These words caused an uproar in the room.
"A small bottle of Felix Felicis can bring you twelve hours of good luck."
"I hope you learn to accept good fortune and enjoy it."
"...
'
Slughorn's words suddenly brought the atmosphere of the Potions class to a climax.
Look, I really wish Snape would understand what Potions class is all about.
If they could, they would love to bring Snape over so he could audit their classes.
However, it is difficult to do.
The reason isn't a lack of strength. It's because—who is Snape?
All they know is Slughorn!
"Then I bet you're all really curious about how to win this amazing prize."
Ron nodded unconsciously.
"Please turn to page ten of your textbooks. In the next hour, I need you to make a potion of living hell. It will be difficult, but the prize will go to the person who makes the best one."
"Now, let's begin!"
Splash—
The young wizards yanked the cauldrons in front of them.
No one spoke. Only the sounds of turning pages, adding weights, and other sounds associated with making potions were heard.
However, some people were looking around.
They wanted to learn how others made potions so they could improve their own.
It's the same as copying homework.
Hermione won first place without any controversy.
Even if her Felix Felicis was terrible, it couldn't outdo the others' in being even worse.
Hermione's eyes were smiling when she received the Felix Felicis.
They learned new knowledge, earned points in Gryffindor, and even won a prize.
Is there anything better than today?
Unless Felix Felicis can make her—
It was soon eight o'clock in the evening when Harry arrived at Sean's office with his wand.
"Honey Lemon Black Tea!"
"Please come in."
Good evening, Professor Phillips.
Good evening, Harry.
When Sean saw Harry come in, he put down the Daily Prophet.
The recent news in the Daily Prophet is quite interesting.
It's so interesting that even people who aren't interested in the news might want to subscribe to a newspaper for a period of time.
"You called me here for a class? Occlumency? This is... Harry noticed that besides Professor Phillips, there was no other person in the office."
There was also a strange man.
The strange man was wearing a black hood, obscuring his face.
But for some inexplicable reason, it gave Harry a sense of familiarity.
"Don't worry about him, he's just a teaching aid for this lesson."
Sean waved his hand, leaving Harry even more confused.
Yes, it was Riddle, the man.
Sean led Riddle to his office.
In these memories, Voldemort can be considered one of the main characters.
Let him access his memories and learn about some of the things that the other Voldemort did later.
This can also be considered another form of "scenario review".
This will be helpful for both Riddle's growth and the "fusion" in the upcoming war.
Even if Dumbledore and Voldemort combined their brains, they probably couldn't have imagined that the "Voldemort" who became Voldemort would one day swagger around sitting in the Hogwarts Headmaster's office.
What kind of course requires people to make teaching aids?
"It's not a brain shut-off procedure."
Sean further explained.
"It's less about attending a class and more about fulfilling a promise Dumbledore made to you."
"promise?"
Harry's eyes lit up immediately.
You mean—
“That’s right.” Sean nodded. “About everything that happened before you were born—something you should have known all along.”
In terms of character, Harry always thought Professor Phillips was better than Dumbledore.
At least—there won't be a breach of contract.
They also don't say anything mysterious or cryptic.
"So, what should we do?"
Sean didn't say anything, but simply stood up, walked around the table, and picked up a stone basin.
The Pensieve.
"This time, you will enter the Pensieve with us and enter Bob Ogden's memories."
Who is Bob Ogden?
"A former employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Sean shook his head and said with a hint of helplessness.
"But unfortunately, I don't know him. Like you, this is the first time I've seen this memory."
Harry leaned forward and plunged headfirst into the silvery substance.
A familiar feeling.
The world spun around.
He plummeted straight down through the spinning darkness, falling and falling. Suddenly, a bright ray of sunlight stung his eyes, forcing him to close them tightly.
Before he could even adjust to the light, Sean and another man had already landed beside him.
The three stood on a country road, flanked by intertwined, towering hedges, with the summer sky overhead, clear and azure, much like the color of forget-me-nots.
About ten feet in front of them stood a short, stout man.
He wore thick-lensed glasses, making his eyes appear as two tiny dots, giving him a mole-like appearance.
Without a doubt, he is the owner of this memory.
The three of them then followed.
As they passed the road sign, an arrow pointed in the direction they had come from, and it read:
Big Hangleton, 5 miles away. Another arrow points in the direction of Ogden, and reads:
Little Hangerton, 1 mile. They continued along the path, still seeing tall hedges on both sides, a clear summer sky overhead, and a figure in a dress coat hurrying along ahead.
The path suddenly turned sharply to the left, descending steeply down the hillside. Suddenly, they discovered a valley right in front of them, a wide-open view stretching out before them.
A village, without a doubt, that was Little Hangleton.
It sits quietly between two steep hillsides, with the church and cemetery clearly visible. On the opposite hillside, a magnificent mansion stands majestically on a lush green lawn.
Because the slope was too steep, Ogden involuntarily started jogging.
Sean and Riddle quickened their pace, with Harry keeping close behind.
He was confused because he had assumed that Little Hangton was their destination.
Why walk from such a far place? However, he soon realized he was wrong—their destination was not that village.
The path turned right again, and Ogden's tuxedo coat flashed past a gap in the fence before disappearing in the blink of an eye.
The three followed Ogden onto a narrow dirt road.
The shrubs on both sides were taller and denser than before, forming a green wall.
The dirt road was winding and full of potholes, with scattered stones of different sizes. It descended steeply, just like the previous path, as if leading to a low-lying, dark forest.
Sure enough, they soon entered a small but lush woodland.
Ogden suddenly stopped and drew his wand.
The three people also stopped behind him.
Although the sky above was a clear blue, the branches and leaves of the ancient trees completely blocked out the sunlight, casting a cool and heavy shadow.
A house half-hidden among the tangled roots of trees.
The location of the house was quite peculiar—or rather, the fact that the trees were allowed to grow wildly around the house made it seem so strange.
The towering trees blocked out all the light and obscured the view of the valley, making the whole house appear gloomy and closed off.
The house's exterior walls were covered in moss, and many roof tiles were missing, exposing the dilapidated oak beneath. Nettles grew wildly in front of the house, densely covering the edges of the windows, which were already small and now covered with a thick layer of dust, looking as if they hadn't been tended to for years.
Suddenly, with a "click," a window slowly opened.
Immediately afterwards, a wisp of steam or smoke drifted out of the house, as if someone was cooking on the stove.