Harry was no genius. Even the foolish girls most eager to date the "Salvator Mundi" could see that clearly. Most of his talent lay in Quidditch, so the photographs of him in Witch Weekly were all taken after Quidditch practice, with his entire body drenched in sweat.
He did not stare into the camera with cornflower-blue eyes and flash white teeth like Lockhart, either. Instead, he looked elsewhere, as if all those photographs had been candid shots.
Perhaps he was focused on scoring, or perhaps he was being careful not to get hit by the Quaffle. In any case, his expression was exceedingly serious, which made him seem rather charming—or at least, that was what his admirers thought. The Hufflepuff boys thought he looked far too "self-righteous."
"He wasn't good at Potions at all before!" Ernie said angrily to the other students gradually joining the Potions Club in the greenhouse. "Now, apart from Potions, I don't think there's anything else he's good at!"
The others thought so too. It was as if they had suddenly returned to their fourth year, when Hogwarts' representative had originally been Cedric, only for a "fourth champion" to appear.
After a month spent together, Pomona had learned that the children did not want to sign up for Advanced Potions not because they found the course too difficult or feared they could not keep up. They all knew something of Slughorn's reputation, as well as his Slug Club and the "collection" displayed on his shelves. For ordinary students who did not catch his eye, he could not even be bothered to remember their names, much less devote his energy to them.
Now that Voldemort's return had become an established fact, and with the Potions classroom right beside Slytherin, those who did not want to invite trouble