A few days later, in the Room of Requirement.
Matthew was brewing a Potent Vitality Potion.
He held a bottle of blue liquid in his hand. It was processed Troll Blood. He had finally finished processing it over the past few days. Troll Blood contained many magical impurities, and removing them was a tedious process. He needed a special extracting solution to separate them out, and he had spent the past few days brewing it.
He poured the blue liquid into the cauldron, added an appropriate amount of leeches with their mouthparts removed and some African Tree Snake Skin, then set the Magic Flame to medium heat. After brewing it for ten minutes, he added a packet of Unicorn Horn Powder and stirred it in.
A moment later, all the ingredients had dissolved into the liquid, turning it a brighter shade of blue.
The Potent Vitality Potion was ready. He extinguished the Magic Flame and poured the potion into a clean Glass Cup.
"Let's see how it works." Matthew drank the potion in one go. Though it had been bubbling in the Glass Cup, it felt only lukewarm in his mouth.
Matthew found himself wanting more. The Potent Vitality Potion tasted surprisingly good—sweet and sour, a little like sour plum soup.
Before he could think any further, the magic inside him began to roil violently. He quickly sat on the bed and began practicing the Aemon Basic Meditation Method.
Under the influence of the Meditation Method, the turmoil in his magic began to affect his Sea of Consciousness.
As he practiced the Meditation Method, the magic inside him began to roil in a regular pattern. Each surge struck his Sea of Consciousness, and the attacks came at a very rapid pace.
When he had used Blue Water Flower Juice to aid his meditation before, it had felt like sitting in a small boat battered by crashing waves.
Now, with the Potent Vitality Potion aiding his meditation, it felt as if some skull-crushing maniac were hammering Matthew's head over and over with an iron mallet.
The intense dizziness nearly made Matthew lose his grip on the Meditation Method.
Half an hour later, the potion's effects gradually wore off, and the dizziness began to fade.
Matthew could sense that his Sea of Consciousness had become a little more solid.
The potion could be used once a day. Taking it too often would cause lasting harm.
He was very pleased with the Potent Vitality Potion's effects. At this rate, he would break through soon.
When he finished practicing, hunger stirred in Matthew's stomach. He took out his Pocket Watch and checked the time. It was already lunchtime.
It was Saturday, and he had no classes all day, so Matthew had spent the entire morning in the Room of Requirement.
After tidying the table, he left the Room of Requirement and headed toward the Great Hall.
At the entrance, he ran into a group of students wearing Slytherin Quidditch uniforms.
Marcus Flint, at the head of the group, hurried over when he saw Matthew and called out, "Matthew! Have you forgotten what day it is?"
Matthew suddenly remembered that the new Quidditch season had started. He was a Slytherin player, after all, though his long absence from training had relegated him to the reserves.
He tried to make excuses. "I'm just a reserve. I won't usually get to play anyway, so there's no need for me to train all the time."
"You call this not training all the time? You haven't shown up even once this term!" Marcus was furious. "And today is our first match!"
Matthew had been busy processing Troll Blood over the past few days, and he'd genuinely forgotten that there was a match today.
"I'll definitely be there this afternoon."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Perrigin got injured during this morning's practice. You're filling in for him this afternoon."
"Huh? Is that really a good idea? I haven't trained at all this term," Matthew said, a little embarrassed.
"We don't have a choice. Perrigin's lying in the School Hospital, so we'll have to make do with you."
Marcus was just as frustrated. They were playing a strong team like Gryffindor that afternoon, and with a starting player injured, they had no choice but to put in a reserve.
Besides, Matthew had been brilliant on the pitch last year. Marcus had thought he could groom him as a successor. He hadn't expected Matthew to shine for just one year, then go more than half a year without showing up for training. Just thinking about it gave him a headache.
Matthew agreed. The Troll Blood was already processed, so he wouldn't be too busy over the next few days.
That afternoon, at the Quidditch Pitch.
The stands around the pitch were roaring with excitement. Almost the entire school—students and staff alike—had turned out.
Matthew's two roommates were holding up a glittering sign in the stands. It read:
—Go, Matthew Black, Annual Best Hitter!
—Go, Slytherin!
There was also a thumbs-up symbol beneath the words. It had been Jerry's idea, inspired by the fan signs used at concerts in the Muggle World.
Ron, Hermione, and Neville were in the stands at the other end. They had painted a banner on a bedsheet that read "Go, Potter!" with a lion's head below it. Under the influence of magic, the image shimmered in different colors.
Meanwhile, in the Slytherin changing room, Matthew changed into a dark green Quidditch uniform.
Marcus came over and clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't be nervous. Just bring the same attitude you have when you're fighting."
He knew a little about the younger students' conflicts and had heard that Matthew had taken on plenty of people in his first and second years.
Matthew smiled and nodded to show he wasn't nervous. As a Beater, his job on the pitch was to control the Bludgers' direction, keep them from interfering with his teammates, and try to hit them toward the opposing players.
After such a long time away from training, he might not be very good at controlling where the Bludgers went. But hitting opposing players? He was excellent at that. Last year, he had taken down several of them with his nearly flawless aim, earning the Annual Best Hitter title.
To ease the pre-match tension, Marcus joked, "Will Crabbe's been stirring up the older students lately, trying to get us to put pressure on you."
Miles Bletchley, the Keeper beside him, laughed too. "Matthew's already proven what he can do. Why would clever Slytherins do something so pointless?"
Matthew remembered that a younger student whom Will had bullied had mentioned this to him before, but nothing had come of it since. He had thought Will had given up.
Terence Shacklebolt, the Seeker, curled his lip in disdain.
"Foolish Will tried to get me involved too. Being Pure-blood doesn't make you more noble! The Crabbe family is nowhere near the equal of the Shacklebolt family or the Black family!"
Terence was a Half-blood Wizard too. Like the Black family, the Shacklebolt family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
The others only laughed awkwardly. No one pursued the sensitive topic any further.
Matthew rubbed his chin, wondering whether he should pay the Crabbe family a visit during the holidays.
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