A Potions Master's Insights

Leaving the common room, Allen hurried toward the Quidditch Pitch, hoping the match had not ended yet. He was very interested in Quidditch matches!

Before Allen even entered the Quidditch Pitch, he heard Gryffindor's cheers echoing through the cold sky, mixed with Slytherin's roars and groans.

Allen quickly climbed up to the Ravenclaw stands. Watching from the stands felt completely different from participating himself. Seeing the little lions on the Gryffindor stands opposite roaring wildly, Allen felt that he truly was a Ravenclaw. He could never be so—wild and passionate.

"The Snitch is still nowhere to be seen, right?" Allen asked Roger, who was frowning as he frantically recorded data.

"Yes, we still haven't seen the Seekers' strength. They haven't spotted the Golden Snitch yet. But Gryffindor's Chasers and Beaters are both very strong, especially the Beaters. Their teamwork is exceptionally seamless." Roger turned his gaze toward the Weasley twins soaring freely through the sky, his face full of envy.

"They're twins. They've lived together since childhood, so it would be strange if they weren't in sync. But our team's Beaters are excellent too. You, for example, aren't you?" Allen's discreet flattery made Roger puff out his chest.

"Oh, of course. I'm Hogwarts' best Beater!" Roger's soft golden hair and white teeth practically sparkled under the sunlight, drawing the eyes of quite a few girls.

"Roger, could I borrow your binoculars?"

"Of course. I brought plenty." Roger felt that he was an especially reliable captain.

Allen raised the binoculars and strained to make out a tiny speck in the air—that was Harry. Harry was high in the sky, gliding lightly back and forth above the pitch. Clearly, he had not spotted the Golden Snitch yet.

Allen watched the match with ease. After being so tense before, he now felt no tension at all as he watched. Drowsiness spread through his body, and at that moment, he sorely missed his bed in Ravenclaw, missed the feeling of being wrapped in soft blankets.

"The Golden Snitch!" Roger's scream jolted Allen awake. "Harry found the Golden Snitch!" Allen immediately raised the binoculars. Harry was diving rapidly, but Marcus Flint deliberately knocked him aside.

"So—after that obvious and despicable act of cheating—" Commentator Lee Jordan could no longer control his anger. Allen felt that he was absolutely right; such behavior was indeed shameful!

No matter how angry the audience was, the match had to continue. It proved that when one encountered unfair treatment, there was no need to blame fate or give up on oneself. All one needed to do was become stronger and make one's opponents lose face.

Just as many people were still immersed in their anger, Harry's broomstick began shaking violently out of control. Slytherin scored, and no one noticed Harry's abnormality. Harry's broomstick convulsed and twisted madly as it carried him farther and farther from the pitch, slowly rising higher and higher.

"Something's wrong with Harry." Allen was the first to notice. Roger and Anna beside him hurriedly aimed their binoculars at Harry. Harry's Flying Broomstick began tumbling and rolling without pause, and he could only barely hold on without falling. Suddenly, the Flying Broomstick gave another violent twist and flung Harry off. He was now hanging in midair, gripping the broom handle with only one hand.

The audience in the stands had lost all interest in the match. Many gasped the instant Harry fell. Allen trained his binoculars on Hermione, tracking her through the crowd, intending to help if things went wrong. Fortunately, Hermione successfully set Professor Snape's robes on fire and knocked over Professor Quirrell at the same time. Harry landed safely, spat the Golden Snitch from his mouth, and Gryffindor won.

"Whether it was strength or luck, no matter what, Gryffindor is a formidable opponent." Roger closed his notebook, filled with fighting spirit.

"To Gryffindor, so are we!" Through the noisy, excited crowd, Allen gave Harry an encouraging smile. "Harry, see you in the finals!"

One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts awoke from its dreams to find several feet of snow covering everything, while the lake had frozen solid. Though the cold pierced to the bone, Allen's mood was as wonderful as spring in March. He had finally completed the library task assigned by the system and successfully obtained the Book of Verto, a Potions master. The book recorded the methods for brewing all kinds of miraculous potions. The more he studied it, the more he felt his own ignorance. Allen wandered helplessly through the ocean of knowledge.

Unlike Allen, the other students were eagerly looking forward to the holiday. Though the common room was warmed by Professor Flitwick's Charms and roaring fires burned in the Great Hall, the drafty corridors had become bitterly cold, and the window glass in the classrooms rattled beneath the freezing wind. Worst of all, Professor Snape's classes were held in the Dungeon Classroom. Every breath they exhaled formed a cloud of white mist before them, so they could only try to stay close to their steaming Cauldrons. Only Allen was unusually enthusiastic about Potions class. He experimented with the brewing techniques in the Book of Verto while listening attentively to Professor Snape's explanations and strengthening his foundations. Comparing the two, Allen felt that his Potions had improved by leaps and bounds.

Professor Snape had clearly noticed that Allen was different. He could find no fault with Allen's potions. Once, during a Potions class, he even noticed that Allen was not using the brewing method from the textbook, yet said nothing. To the other students, this was simply unbelievable. Apart from Slytherin students, Professor Snape only treated Allen differently. Not only did he refrain from criticizing him, he even offered guidance from time to time. While the other students suffered the dual freezing assault of mind and body, Allen's ease and comfort made everyone envy, resent, and hate him.

It was not only Potions. Allen performed excellently in his other classes as well. When the gap between oneself and another person became too great, all that remained was admiration from afar. So no one came looking to cause trouble for Allen. Everyone believed that Allen was certain to take first place in the final exams. They could only fight for second place!

Excellent students had the troubles of excellent students: they easily became teachers' assistants. For example, at that moment, Professor Flitwick had called Allen over to help decorate for Christmas. Together, they used their wands to spray streams of golden bubbles and hung them from the branches of the tree Hagrid had just brought in. With everyone working together, the Great Hall became beautiful and magnificent. The walls were hung with swags of holly and mistletoe, and exactly twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room. Some were decorated with glittering little icicles, while hundreds of candles twinkled on others.

Allen saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione following Hagrid into the Great Hall as well. Allen walked over with a smile, intending to greet them, but happened to hear Harry say happily to Hagrid, "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel, we've been trying to find out who he is."