The Christmas revelry came at a price. Alcohol was fair-it did not stop working just because you were a wizard.
On the contrary, since these wizards all relied so heavily on their minds, they became far more deeply drunk than ordinary people, and their hangovers were much worse.
Fortunately, they had potions. Several experienced ladies had prepared hangover remedies in advance, saving Li Qingshu the trouble of brewing a pot of Sobering Potion Soup.
It was similar to the cold remedy Madam Pomfrey brewed. After drinking it, you felt warm all over, then two thick, visible jets of steam shot from your ears, accompanied by a shrill sound like a train whistle.
Zhang Chengdao had no need for anything like that. His Golden Light Spell had reached an extremely advanced level, and it was, after all, a method of dual cultivation of nature and life. Although he had gotten drunk at the time, he now felt as though he had never touched a drop.
So the family of three sat in a row, watching curiously as Sirius, Lucius, Arthur, and Mr. Granger grimaced their way through bottles of dull gray potion, then began puffing steam from their ears like locomotives.
For a while, the entire room was wreathed in mist, as though they had entered a fairyland. But everyone's sallow faces quickly regained their healthy color, and their flagging spirits improved considerably.
The other young wizards had already gone out to play. The bustling city center was not far away. Mr. Granger had brought plenty of pounds, but Lucius had brought even more.
When Draco Malfoy came up to him with his friends and looked at him expectantly, how could Lucius possibly resist?
He emptied his wallet on the spot, stuffing several thousand pounds into his son's hands. It was